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pellucid-constellations · 9 months ago

Text

Trial and Error (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Illness, angst babyyy <3

a/n: I'm going insane and crazy and every iteration of that. I love writing this fic so much I want it tattooed on my forehead. Thanks, love you all <3

Main Masterlist ♡

You were in and out of sleep for the next few days—much to your displeasure.

After attempting to down all the herbal remedies Azriel’s healer had left and continuing to care for your daughter without missing a beat, Azriel had made it clear that that would not fly. You told him several times to go home and not burden himself with caring for the two of you, but he was entirely too stubborn to listen to you.

You even watched as his shadows left and returned with messages for him, sure that his High Lord was calling him home.

But Azriel still stayed.

He made food, he served the food, and he fed Melanie, coaxing her delirious eyes open to make sure she took medicine at the right times. You weren’t completely incapacitated, but it didn’t matter; Azriel wouldn’t allow you to lift a finger.

He answered the door to the apothecary several times, sending away customers after collecting payments and restocking shelves, somehow privy to the knowledge of the store. You weren’t entirely confident that he wasn’t overcharging everyone or putting things in random places.

A few times, when sleep fought for the space in your mind, you felt fingers in your hair, along your face, across your shoulders. Each brush would send you deeper into the void you avoided so adamantly, and you were ignoring the fact that you had never felt safe enough to fall asleep in front of other people until now.

You caught Azriel holding Melanie on a few occasions.

You would crack an eye open after an unexpected bout of sleep and he’d be rocking her in his arms, bouncing her to sleep as she lay her flushed face on his shoulder.

Azriel had never told you if he had experience with children. Sure, he mentioned his closeness with Nyx and how much he loved his nephew, but that was… different from this. The ease with which he held Melanie, the instinct he seemed to have towards her—it felt different. Looked different.

You felt an unexplainable sense of safety as you watched them.

Melanie would pull back from his shoulder and arrange her fingers on the planes of Azriel’s cheeks and he would smile at her. And you felt safe.

You found more energy on the third day of the fever.

You got out of bed and took some semblance of a bath, fumbling around in the bathroom without much coordination. Your head was still fuzzy and an ache still permeated deep within your muscles, but the feeling was lessened.

It wasn’t until after your bath that you realized you hadn’t checked on Melanie the moment you woke up.

You hadn’t shot out of bed and raced to her room as you had done almost every morning since she was born.

You hadn’t feared that she was somehow taken from your home, from your arms—that she was in danger of being ripped from your grasp and sent back to Autumn to live out the same cruel fate you were destined for.

A small voice in the back of your mind offered a gentle whisper, reminding you that it was because of Azriel that you found that brief moment of peace.

You pushed it back.

With a shiver, you made your way down the narrow hallway to your daughter’s bedroom.

Empty.

You felt your heart rate tick up in a small bout of panic, but you were calmed by a fluttering in your chest just as quickly. The light pressure led you into the kitchen and then flushed into a warm bloom as the scene in front of you unfolded.

Melanie was bundled up in a blanket and sat atop the kitchen counter as Azriel whisked the contents of a bowl. She was talking her head off about something that happened at school and Azriel was nodding his head with each exasperated huff she let out. Another glance told you that Melanie had eaten an entire plate of food before you’d entered, a feat in itself as your daughter hardly ate to begin with—let alone when she was sick.

“Mommy!” Melanie cheered, wrapping her arms around your neck as you entered the quaint kitchen. “I thought you were gonna sleep forever. I wanted to wake you up but Mr. Azriel said you had to sleep to get better so he made me lunch.”

“Lunch, huh?” you smiled, gathering her into your arms and sliding her off the counter.

“Uh-huh. You slept through breakfast and lunch. Aren’t you hungry, mommy?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Well, you should have Mr. Azriel’s pancakes.” Melanie yawned. Her blinks became longer. “They’re so good, mommy. He should live with us and make them all the time.”

From the stove, you heard Azriel breathe out a laugh. You glanced at him through your lashes as you held Melanie in your arms, the broad expanse of his wings barely contained in the kitchen. The shirt he wore strained against his arms as he shifted a pan on the burner and he didn’t look back as the two of you spoke.

“I think I need a nap,” Melanie proclaimed, rubbing at her heavy eyes. “I thought I was a big girl at school now and didn’t need to take naps. You told me that, mommy.”

You tore your gaze from Azriel’s back and offered your daughter a soft smile. “Well, you need rest to get better, too. So it’s okay for you to take naps right now.”

“I don’t like having hot blood. This is so annoying.”

You jutted your head back at her statement and made to have her explain, but Melanie shimmied from your arms and scampered off to her room before you could make a sound, her blanket dragging behind her.

That left you alone with Azriel.

“Hot blood?” you asked, leaning against the counter and attempting to appear casual in your own home. It was still surreal that he was up here—making pancakes in your kitchen—when just a few days ago, you never would have let him get past the stairs.

Azriel hummed and flicked the burner off, leaning his back on a nearby counter to face you. “I think she heard what Madja said when she was explaining what was wrong with you both. Mel’s been calling it hot blood. I didn’t—I didn’t think it was my place to correct her.”

You pressed your lips into a line and rubbed your forearm in some attempt of comfort. “Right.” A long pause. Azriel didn’t press you to speak. You did anyway to fill the dead air. “You really didn’t have to stay for as long as you did. I know this place isn’t what you’re used to and it must have been a handful with Mel—”

“I wanted to stay,” Azriel interrupted. He stepped forward and placed a hand on your forehead, ignoring the tension you felt weighing on your shoulders. “You’re still warm.”

“I feel a lot better. Almost completely fine. It would be okay… if you had somewhere to go. If you had to leave, I mean.”

The hand on your forehead slid down to your chin and tilted your face up. Azriel’s gaze flickered between your eyes—back and forth with a furrowed brow as if trying to parse out a deeper meaning behind your words or solve a puzzle you hadn’t presented. His hand was hot against your chin in a way it wasn’t against your forehead.

“You should eat,” he settled on. He brushed your still-damp hair back from your face before turning on his heel. “Mel was right. I make great pancakes and you haven’t eaten in a while. Lucky for you she didn’t finish all of them. She was close, but there are a few left.”

You let him fuss, watched him as he rooted around the cupboards to pull out a plate and a glass, and tried to figure this out now that you were more coherent.

Azriel had stayed—for almost three days he had stayed at your apartment and cared for you and your daughter as if it was expected. Each time you had woken up he had been there, coaxing water and bone-dry broth into your mouth before helping you see Melanie and then helping you to fall back to sleep. He had held your daughter and made her pancakes and he was still here.

Could this somehow be nefarious? Some ploy to get close to you just to use you as a bargaining chip and send you back home? Had the High Lord demanded that his Spymaster keep a close eye on you and this was the outcome?

No.

No, that couldn’t be the reason Azriel was setting a plate down on the counter beside you. That couldn’t be why he caught your eye with a worried gaze and seemed to pinpoint your inner turmoil almost instantly.

But why?

His visits over the past few weeks had been welcomed—confusing at first, but a welcomed break from the mundane, anxiety-fueled life you lived. You had grown comfortable with him and Melanie had begun asking for him when she showed you her art projects or had questions about the walks of life. You had come to expect his presence in your store and found yourself looking forward to the chance to see him outside of Melanie’s school.

But what could he possibly have to gain from making himself a constant in your life?

You had asked before, a single question with a simple “Why not?” for a response that you had brushed off. Because it wasn’t too much of a big deal for him to stop by or help you lift the apothecary boxes or let Melanie talk his ear off.

But this was a big deal.

It was a big deal when he sat beside you until you fell asleep and it was a big deal that he was still standing here now, inches from you, eyes boring into yours.

“Why are you doing this, Azriel?”

Your question seemed to suck all of the air from the room. Azriel winced to such an infinitesimal degree you almost missed it. His fingers twitched as they rested on the counter. The plate of food sat forgotten, its intended distraction wasted.

“I’ve already said.”

You shook your head. “‘Why not’ was okay when you were stopping by the apothecary a few times a week and flirting with me for fun. It was okay when you were saving me from nosey teachers and opening doors when my hands were full. It was okay when this—” you jabbed your finger between your chest and his “—didn’t involve you in my apartment holding my daughter until she fell asleep. I need more than why not, Azriel. I need to understand if… if…”

“What?” he whispered so close the air between you warmed.

When had he gotten so close?

“I need to know if this isn’t safe. If there’s some other reason for all of this.”

This time, when Azriel winced, he flinched. His body seemed to stun and his face twisted into a frown etched with such an uncomfortable pain it was difficult to look at.

He spoke as his head shook. “I’ve told you this isn’t… I want you to feel safe with me. I thought I would have proved that was possible after this.”

“You have,” you were quick to reply. “I wouldn’t have been able to take care of Mel if you hadn’t been here. But, that’s the thing. I don’t even know how you knew to come here. You walked in asking if I was okay—asking where Melanie was. I know your shadows spy, but why, Azriel? Why take such an interest in me? In us?”

“Is it not enough to just want to know you?” he asked, his words tight and pained.

“No. For others, maybe. But not… not after everything I’ve been through. Not when everything I have could be ripped away. I need a reason, Azriel. I can’t let this happen without one. I can’t put Melanie in danger.”

“I don’t understand,” Azriel pleaded. He got closer, wrenching his head down to find your eyes. “Help me to understand. What danger are you in? I can explain, but I can’t protect you without knowing.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, tugging at your hair and regretting the action as a headache bloomed. You took a step back until your back met the kitchen wall.

“You can’t protect me, Azriel. You can’t.”

“I could if you—”

“It doesn’t make sense that you want to! You work for the High Lord. You spy for him! Do you have any idea what any of that means in the grand scheme of things? What it could mean if someone found out that the Night Court’s Spymaster was suddenly asking around about someone from Autumn?”

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, confusion marring his features, but you were breathing faster, the fever and the panic combining beneath your skin.

“I have stayed hidden for five years—five. I shouldn’t have sent Melanie to school. I shouldn’t have asked for help from anyone. If… if someone finds me—”

“No one will find you. Hey—hey.” Azriel invaded your space, your back against the wall and his hands against your face. His eyes softened as they caught yours. “No one is going to find you. You need a reason why I want to be here with you? Why I care about you and Mel?”

Your jaw quivered under his fingers. You nodded in place of speech, unable to find words that wouldn’t make tears fall down your cheeks.

Azriel stared back at you with so much torture and conflict in his eyes you almost wanted to take back the request. He took several breaths and seemed unsure of his next words. But he held your face in his hands with such surety, strong fingers unshaken.

The Shadowsinger brought you forward with the guide of his palms until his lips met your forehead.

And then he pulled back and said, “You are my mate. I want to keep you safe—to protect you and Melanie—because you are my mate. You are what I’ve been waiting for for hundreds of years and if you want nothing to do with me after this, that’s fine. But if you’ll have me, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

part 6

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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rain-water-flowers · 27 days ago

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Unconditional

WC: 1548

Synopsis: Niki can't get a move down in the new choreography. Turns out he just needs something to take his frustration out on.

Warnings: frustrated Niki, unprotected sex (I'm disappointed), dom!niki, sub!reader, he's a little mean ngl, slight slapping, mirror sex, oral (m. receiving), he's tender with her at the end if you squint, rough fucking, lmk if I missed something lol.

A/n: I wrote this for my beta @midnighthazee lol, she gave me this scenario and I just went with it. It's fun making her read fics about her problem people lmaooo. So thank her for this. Enjoyyyy (my first nonskz fic) :)))

Enhypen Masterlist

The music cut out as Niki angrily walked over to the laptop connected to the speaker and aggressively reset the music. The echo of his heavy breathing bouncing off the mirrored walls of the empty dance studio. Sweat clung to his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. He stared at his reflection – red-faced, muscles tense, chest rising and falling too fast. The stupid choreography just wasn’t clicking.

“Again,” he grunted, breathing hard and intensely as he pressed play.

He kept going through the steps, stumbling on one of the counts. His foot caught on the wrong beat, arms jerking out of sync. He hissed a curse under his breath, dragging his hands through his hair and yanking it back like he could shake himself into doing the move right.

“Niki?”

He froze. That voice. Soft, familiar, and getting under his skin.

He turned, slow and sharp, and there she was—leaning against the doorway, his hoodie half-zipped over her tank top, hair pulled up lazily, like she hadn’t come here to interrupt him but just found herself here.

Niki’s jaw tightened.

“What?” he snapped, harsher than he meant. Her eyes flinched, just barely.

“I was just passing by. Thought I’d see how rehearsal was going.”

“Well, now you’ve seen,” he said, arms crossed, his tone all cut glass and fire.

Y/n didn’t move. Didn’t shrink.

“You’re pissed,” she said plainly, stepping further inside, letting the door shut behind her. Her eyes flicked to the scuffed floor, then back to him. “Is it the turn again?”

“I had it. Last week I had it,” Niki growled, pacing like a caged animal. “And now it’s like my body forgot everything. I’m wasting time. I’m wasting everyone’s time.”

“No one’s here,” she said. “Just me.”

“Exactly,” he shot back. “So go.”

Y/n raised a brow, challenging. “You really want me to go?”

His chest tightened. God, she knew exactly how to make him unravel. She always had.

She took a step closer, and then another, until they were nearly chest to chest, his breath ghosting against her lips. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His fists were clenched at his sides.

She reached up, fingers brushing a damp curl off his forehead. “You're allowed to be frustrated, Niki. But don’t take it out on me like that.”

His eyes closed. Just for a second. Like the contact short-circuited his storm. But when he looked at her again, the fire was still there—less rage now, more... something else.

“Why do you always come in when I’m at my worst?” he murmured, voice low, rough.

“Because I know you don’t need anyone when you’re at your best.”

The tension between them hung like static. She was so close. His hands hovered near her hips like he wanted to hold her, but didn’t trust himself to. Not yet.

“I hate how you do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like I’m not falling apart when I clearly am.”

Y/n smiled, slow and knowing. “You're not falling apart, Niki. You’re just mid-spin.”

His laugh was more of a breath, shaky and bitter-sweet. He let his forehead rest against hers.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You still love me.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, hands finally wrapping around his waist. “I do.”

The music was silent, but somehow, the room felt full again. Niki could still feel the anger lingering below his skin, the furrow between his brows still evident despite the slight comfort his girl was bringing him. Thinking about how he kept messing up brought the anger and annoyance back to the forefront of his mind.

“Just watch me,” he growled, stalking back to the center of the room. “And keep your mouth shut.”

Y/n nodded and perched on the edge of a chair against the wall. Niki took a deep breath and launched into the routine again, trying to ignore her presence. But no matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes on him. Distracting him.

After several more botched attempts, Niki finally gave up with a loud groan of frustration. He kicked over a trash can and stalked toward y/n, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet.

“Come here,” he snarled, dragging her over to the mirrors.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked nervously, trying to tug her arm free.

Niki ignored her and shoved her down to her knees, shoving his sweatpants down to reveal his hardening cock. "You're going to suck my dick so I can get rid of some of this frustration," he ordered coldly.

Y/n's eyes widened. "Niki, we're in public-"

"I don't give a fuck," Niki cut her off viciously, fisting a hand in her hair and yanking her head forward. "Open your mouth."

Y/n whimpered but obeyed, parting her lips to let him shove his cock inside. Niki groaned at the feel of her warm mouth enveloping him and started pumping his hips, fucking her face without preamble.

"That's it, take it," he panted, watching their reflection in the mirror. Y/n's cheeks hollowed as she sucked him eagerly, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Niki used his grip on her hair to control her movements, forcing her to take him deeper.

He pulled out with a wet pop after a few minutes, leaving Y/n gasping and coughing. "Get up," he barked, hauling her to her feet and spinning her around to face the mirror.

Y/n braced her hands on the glass, looking at him with tear-filled eyes in their reflection.

"Are you gonna try to be gentle?" she whispered.

Niki scoffed and pulled her pants down, resting them just below her ass and shoving her panties aside. "You want me to be gentle? After I've been busting my ass for hours and you interrupt me?"

He drove into her cunt with one brutal thrust, making them both groan. Y/n's pussy was hot and tight around him, clenching down instinctively.

"That's right, baby, let me take it out on you," Niki grunted, setting a punishing pace. He gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises as he fucked her, slamming into her with enough force to make her breasts bounce in the mirror. "Fucking take it like a good little girl for me, hm?"

Y/n could only moan and push back against him, loving the rough treatment despite herself. She could see how sexy they looked together in the mirror - Niki's lean, muscular body jackhammering into hers, his muscles flexing with every thrust. She could also see the frustration etched into his face, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in concentration as he used her.

"Just like that, pretty girl." Niki growled, leaning over to bite at her neck possessively while placing his hands over hers on the mirror. "Milk my fucking cock. I know you love being used like this."

"Yes," Y/n whimpered breathlessly. "I love it. I love you."

Those words seemed to snap something inside Niki. He reared back and spanked her hard, making her yelp. "Don't fucking say that," he snarled. "You don't get to love me when I'm so pissed off."

He resumed fucking her savagely, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks. Y/n could only sob and take it, tears streaming down her face as she came with a scream, pussy clamping down on him like a vice.

"Fuck!" Niki growled, slamming into her one last time before stilling deep inside. He came hard, painting her insides with thick ropes of cum as he emptied himself inside of her.

They collapsed together against the mirror, Niki's softening cock still buried inside her as they caught their breath. Y/n could feel his heart pounding against her back, could feel the sheen of sweat that coated their bodies.

"I'm sorry," Niki mumbled after a long moment, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder. "I didn't mean to be so rough. I just...I'm so frustrated and I took it out on you."

Y/n turned in his arms to face him, cupping his face in her hands. "I know," she said softly. "But you needed to let it out somehow. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

Niki closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, breathing in her comforting scent. He knew he was lucky to have her, even if he didn't always treat her like it.

"Thank you," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "For putting up with my bullshit. And for letting me use you like that."

Y/n smiled and kissed him back. "Anytime, baby," she murmured. "Now why don't we go get cleaned up and I'll make you something to eat, hm? You need to keep your strength up for another round of this later."

Niki laughed and swatted her ass playfully as she led him out of the studio. He knew he still had a lot of work ahead of him...but with y/n by his side, he felt like he could take on anything.

The next day he came in and immediately had the spin down. Maybe he just needed a little bit of good luck (his girlfriend's throat around his cock).

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mp3bugs · 1 month ago

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Between the Lines

pairing: Viktor x fem!reader

summary: After enrolling at the Academy, you had managed to stumble your way into Viktor's life, and he isn't very keen on letting you go.

wc: 7.5k

a/n: This is my first viktor fic ever... please be nice </3 anw I hope you guys like it. I worked on it for like a week before I deemed it to be good enough for posting.

You were always an achiever. Ever since your parents had taught you how to read you were unstoppable, continuously striving to do more you found interest in a lot of things that the other kids your age never really thought about. It was inevitable that you would eventually become the top student in all of your classes, recognized by your peers and teachers to be one of the most intelligent amongst your age group. It was isolating, the kids around you continued to play while you read books, trying to figure out the meaning behind everything.

You always attempted to excel at whatever was thrown at you and all your hard work only became more worthwhile the older you got. Getting accepted into the prestigious Academy of Piltover was one of your biggest achievements and every moment you spent within those walls felt sacred and special. Everything around you was a result of your hard work. It wasn’t long before you were introduced to the dean of the Academy, professor Heimerdinger, who was quick to offer you various opportunities that would skyrocket your success. Hesitant, you denied the offers, choosing to focus on your studies instead.

It took a few months of persisting from the aged yordle, eventually you warmed up and he jumped the gun, immediately offering you an internship with his current assistant, who just so happened to be a pretty renowned researcher and engineer within the Academy. You couldn’t help but take on the offer after reading the researcher’s scope within the field of science he practiced, it was interesting and promising.

It wasn’t long before you were introduced to the researcher himself. Viktor was his name. He said it with such assurance too, curling around the syllables with a hum and an accent you couldn’t name.

“Viktor.” He held out a hand, the other one was curled around the head of his cane, leaning most of his weight on it. You placed your hand in the empty space he offered. His fingers, thin and calloused, wrapped around yours, engulfing it fully and giving it a firm shake.

He was lanky and quite frail looking but he held himself high with the confidence of knowing he was one of the best the Academy had to offer.

“Your reputation precedes you.” He continued, looking down at you with his chin held up high. “Professor Heimerdinger speaks of you often.”

“I hope it’s only good things.” You replied, heart thrumming in your chest. You felt scrutinized under the older man’s gaze, stripping you apart until you stood bare in front of him. It was a challenge. No one had ever thought anything but good things about you. This was different and you were more than eager to prove to him why everyone thinks the way they do about you.

“Oh, yes. Only good things.”

—------------------------------

It had been a couple of months since then. You had eased into the work environment at the laboratory. It was undoubtedly stressful but you had managed to prove yourself, intelligence and all, time and time again. Working closely with Jayce, Viktor’s research partner, and Viktor himself as his assistant had really set your sights onto the realities of working in science. It wasn’t glamorous, no. In fact it was the complete opposite. There were moments where the three of you had failed to accomplish the simplest of mathematical problems, Viktor had even forgotten his times tables at one point, and Jayce, well, he once somehow forgot the answer to (5+5). Throughout everything, you had developed a close relationship with the two researchers. You felt it was safe to assume that you and Viktor were friends, at the very least. You were really much closer to Jayce, taking into consideration the fact that the larger man was a lot more approachable than the former. The two of you often talked and met up outside of work, finding new things to bond over such as your favorite music, cooking recipes, and somewhat similar personalities.

Though ever since Jayce had taken up an interest in counselor Medarda he had been spending less time in the lab and more time showing his affections elsewhere, leaving you and Viktor to spend hours alone at times without end. Which was fine, maybe a little awkward but that could be easily pushed aside. You had grown used to the fact that Viktor always had his walls up. Guarded and unwilling to let anybody closer than they should be.

Spending more time with Viktor, one on one, had without a doubt helped a lot in cultivating a better work relationship between the two of you, and sure, maybe you found the older man to be extremely attractive to the point where it was becoming difficult to focus on work but that was besides the point. It was nice spending time with Viktor, despite it mostly being through work, however Jayce’s lack of presence at the lab had fostered some annoyance from the lanky brunette, always muttering under his breath about ‘priorities’ and ‘the future’. You always pretended like you didn’t hear it.

As time went on, work only became more difficult. The rose tinted glasses were harshly torn off your face and you were left fumbling around in the dark, but you had Viktor and Jayce by your side, who were more than willing to aid you in this path. Despite your urge to prove yourself there were moments where you truly needed guidance. The harder the days were, the stronger the urge was to overstay at the laboratory, trying to work out an equation or whatever it may be. Viktor was more irritable in these difficult times, grumbling in a language you didn’t fully understand and becoming extremely pissy when he couldn’t find his pen or a screwdriver.

“M.s Y/L/N.” Viktor called out from where he was sitting. His tone was all too familiar, it was not shy of kindness but you could already sense his growing irritation. He had his back turned to you, numerous papers and blueprints scattered over the desk he slouched over.

“Yes, sir?” You replied from the other side of the room, your attention on the equation presented to you on the chalkboard. You had been mulling over it for a few minutes now, maybe hours, but you had lost care in keeping time when you’re in the lab. You looked over but he said nothing, not even bothering to turn away from his desk. He beckoned your presence with two fingers.

Your shoes clicked and clacked against the tile floor as you approached him.

“I’m finding it quite difficult to work efficiently when I cannot find my tools.” Viktor explained quietly, gesturing to his work desk with open hands. You glanced over, not a tool in sight. Nervous, you looked around the room, the days had been blending in together and hours felt like mere minutes. You could not recall where Viktor’s toolbox was. A weird churning feeling began to grow in your gut.

“I’ll bring them right to you, sir.” You mumbled quickly before scurrying off to the other side of the room. You began to peer into any space you could possible. The box was old, janky, and a lot of other unpleasant things. Viktor could replace it if he really wanted to. Something nice that doesn’t squeak awkwardly every time you open it, but was the kind of person who liked to keep his hold on things that are his.

A little desperate, you began to crawl around the laboratory. Maybe you left it underneath a desk somewhere. The lab was by no means organized. It was hard to keep clean when you had three active brains attempting to break past science and discover something the world had not seen just yet. A stupid excuse but it worked just fine, except for times like these.

After looking around like a cat chasing a mouse, you had finally found it. The stupid old toolbox that should have probably been tossed into an incinerator by now. It had managed to hide itself underneath a pile of papers, behind a few more boxes of old contraptions and failed projects. Now why would it be there? You pulled it out from its hiding spot with a small yet proud ‘Aha!’, a grin growing on your face.

“Aha, indeed.” You looked up at the voice. Viktor was standing over you with a small smirk, cane in one hand and the other leaning on the desk you were looking under. You were so engrossed in your task that you didn’t even hear Viktor approaching you. Your position was quite unbecoming, on your knees with some rusty toolbox in your hands, not a very ‘top student’ position.

You flustered under the man’s gaze. You’d never thought that you’d be on your knees in front of the man. Well, you had thought about it but realistically it would never happen. Until now.

“I found your toolbox!” You exclaimed happily, raising it up to the man with flushed cheeks. There weren’t many times where you had Viktor’s full attention. He was a busy man, always on the edge of the breakthrough that continued to distance itself the closer he got. He had no time to dabble into other things when his success was right in front of him, but in the times where you had his attention it was almost daunting.

He plucked the toolbox from your hands with ease, placing it on the desk beside him. Before you could push yourself up from the ground, Viktor held out a hand, pausing your movements.

“Allow me, please.” He reached down and offered his hand to you while the other remained on his cane, as always. Your eyes flickered from his face to his outstretched hand. His eyes met yours for a split second and you willed yourself to look away. He looked like a prince, a knight in shining armor who was prepared to whisk you away and ride off into the sunset – The blue glow from the hex core only added to this daydream you had.

Your cheeks flushed into a deeper colour and thankfully you could blame your little side quest for this. You placed your hand in his and the older researcher helped you up from the ground. Once you rose to your feet you couldn’t help but look into his eyes once more, and there he was again with those stupid amber eyes that made you feel like he was looking straight into your soul.

“Thank you, sir.” You cleared your throat awkwardly and pulled your hand away, tucking it behind your back. You turned back to the desk and pretended to busy yourself by arranging the papers and stacking them into neat piles.

“It’s really no problem.” Viktor replied, you could hear the smile in his voice, how annoying. “And I would like to believe we are past all this, eh… ‘sir’ nonsense. Please, call me Viktor from now on.”

He truly is annoying.

It was another long day at the lab. Jayce and Viktor had recently received a letter of approval from the council allowing them to engineer one of their proposed designed models for a new invention involving hextech and they did not want to waste any time. Your shoulders and many other parts of you were aching for rest but you ignored your muscles’ cries for help as you fetched probably your 5th tray of tea for the day.

“Ah yes, thank you Y/N.” Viktor mumbled absentmindedly as you placed the tray on the far end of the desk, he gave you an appreciative wave but his focus was primarily on the contraption in his hands, it seemed to be a smaller model of the hex core with a case around it. Jayce looked away from the chalkboard and mumbled a quick thank you as well.

“Y/N, would you be so kind and–” Jayce was quickly interrupted by an annoyed cough.

“Eh, last I recall, Ms. Y/L/N is my assistant, is that correct?” Viktor turned around in his chair, eyes locking straight into yours. He had a pointed look, a singular eyebrow raised and a small quirk on his lips, almost as if he was taunting you to try and deny his claims. You could only nod your head, unsure if you could even offer a rebuttal to any of this. “That’s right.” He hummed and turned back to his work, the sound of the wheels of his chair filled the growing silence in the room.

You turned to look at Jayce who, bless his soul, wore his heart out on his sleeve and had a very confused look on his face. You could only shrug with an awkward smile.

You attempted to ignore the interaction, sipping your own cup of tea in the meantime. Viktor was probably itching with pettiness and could barely hold it in any longer. Maybe it was reasonable. Jauce had found love, one of the biggest distractions to the progression of science as Viktor would say. Those words would always find him late at night, when his eyes were heavy with sleep but Jayce would not entirely be at fault, maybe Viktor just needed to loosen up a little.

“If you wish for my assistant to do anything for you, then you must ask for my permission, yes?” Viktor added, the hextech model long forgotten as he scratched the nib of his pen against some scratch paper.

Jayce could only roll his eyes, “Vik, may I ask Y/N to do something for me?” He was now fully turned away from the chalkboard, equation be damned.

The lanky man swiveled on his chair once more, his index finger and his thumb curled around his chin, feigning deep thought, Viktor looked up at the ceiling and let out a sweet hum of random notes, “No.” The older man quipped monotonously and swiftly turned back to his desk. “I would like for Ms. Y/L/N to stay put. I may need her assistance and I would hate for her to be distracted with other unnecessary things.”

Jayce sighed and turned back to the chalkboard. He had bigger problems to solve.

That was weird.

It wasn’t unusual for the two to have a few petty fights which were quite literally childish most of the time but this felt different. An odd feeling began to stir in your gut as you glanced between the two researchers. Ignoring the gnawing feeling at your gut, you decided not to pry.

Once the conversation had properly died and down and had been forgotten, Viktor took a small glance at you from over his shoulder. Your eyes met and he beckoned you over with a small gesture, his index finger pressed against his lips. How childish. You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face at his antics. As quietly as you could, you made your way to his desk, occupying the empty seat next to him.

“What do you think of this equation, hm?” Viktor asked quietly, practically whispering the words into your ear. His warm breath brushed against your cheek sending shivers straight down your spine. You straightened up in the chair and cleared your throat. You looked down at the paper but it was hard to look over the math when Viktor’s arm was pressed right into yours. Despite the four layers of clothing that separate your skin from his, you could feel your cheeks burning up from the contact alone.

Without even thinking about it, you shifted your gaze from the paper to Viktor. Thankfully, his eyes were trained on the paper, lost in his own world. You took advantage of that fact and really soaked in all the little details because when would you have another chance to be this close to the brunette?

His cheeks were angular, eyes sharp and he lacked a lot of body fat but he was never ugly, no. Despite all of the things that your peers have said about him, you always thought he was attractive. The small crease in between his eyebrows, the moles he had scattered around his skin. You took the risk and took the smallest glance towards his lips. He always had a habit, unconscious maybe, where the corners of his lips would quirk up when he was deep in thought.

“Did it stump your brain as well?” Viktor mused, putting a halt to the Viktor Express going around in your brain. He leaned even closer and nudged your arm with his elbow, a small exhale of a chuckle leaving through his nose.

“I’m sure it’s correct.” You whispered back breathlessly, cheeks flushed a dark hue of red, you could only hope that Viktor didn’t notice it.

“I want your input.” He insisted, urging you even, with another nudge. Your resolve was slowly breaking, this proximity was in no way good for your heart, which was already threatening to beat out of your rib cage and present itself on the desk in front of you. As you gnawed anxiously on your lower lip, you looked at the equation again. It was solved… but something felt off. You pointed at a part of the equation and glanced at Viktor.

“You could change the variable here.”

Viktor hummed, content with your answer. He snatched back the paper and began to write up a new equation. You dropped your shoulders and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. The distance helped calm your thumping heart. There were moments where you felt like Viktor knew what he was doing. Aware of his effect on you and deciding to play around with it – but as he solved that stupid equation it felt nothing more than a friendly interaction.

—------------------------------

It had been a month since Viktor had you ‘secretly’ help him on an equation. The entire scenario had plagued your every waking moment, the vision of Viktor so close to you that it was burned into your eyelids. The smell of his cologne was so subtle, you didn’t even know that he wore cologne before that moment, but now, it was all you could think about. You attempted to keep your distance after that day, not wanting your little crush you had to foster into something more. You had to remain professional, this was a work setting, but Viktor was persistent, almost as if he had begun to enjoy your company these past few weeks — Besides the fact that you were his assistant.

Viktor started requesting your presence more consistently at the lab. At first you understood his request. Things were only getting busier and the man would surely need some help during these times but it looked a little suspicious when he would ask you to complete the most mundane of tasks that, despite his schedule, he could accomplish himself.

“Could you arrange my pens?”

“I need your help erasing that chalkboard.”

“I need you to sign these papers. Yes, just forge them, no one will know.”

It was confusing. You didn’t know what to think of it, really. You were just trying to survive every interaction at the lab and hoping you didn’t die from heart failure. Despite everything, you did not want to assume that he reciprocated even an inkling of your feelings – it was just highly unlikely. No hypothesis needed. No tests or observations. It was never going to happen, and you knew that. So you continued to push that thought to the back of your mind and buried yourself in work.

You had stupidly hoped that after all this time, your feelings would dwindle. It was merely a crush at first sight. Viktor was undeniably a good looking man. All angles and sharp edges but it only added to his charm. Amber eyes paired with his boyish smile, the moles that decorated his skin like stars on a clear night sky and that stupid accent that always got your heart racing. Evidently, those feelings had not even diminished in the slightest.

You needed a break from him. A break from the laboratory. A break from the hours that you would spend alone with that man. Some time away to allow yourself to really bury these feelings deep inside you and never to be found again. So you called in sick.

—------------------------------

You woke up the morning of your so-called ‘sick day’ feeling peaceful for the first time in a long time. You had planned to stay in your dorm room, read a few books, work on a few assignments, and figure out a way to find Viktor as unattractive as possible. That would be the hardest task of the day.

Maybe it could be the way that he closes himself off when he’s working, or the way that he blatantly ignores you when he’s too focused. No person would want that right? It was reasonable, your scapegoat into finally getting out of this scrappy mess of feelings that made you feel like a child, yet it only fueled your attraction even further. Your brain travelled to the way Viktor would play with the ends of his hair when he was deep in thought, twirling the messy strands of hair with his index finger. It all went downhill from there. Your mind raced with the thoughts of his long hands, calloused fingers, the way his Adam’s apple would bob when he fought irritation. Sometimes, when you were lucky enough and stuck around long enough at the lab, you would get to see a sliver of Viktor’s chest, his frustrations leading him to loosening his usually tightly knotted tie and unbuttoning the top of his blouse. Those days felt more worth it.

You were pulled away from your thoughts by a series of knocks on your door. You weren’t expecting company but you assumed it was one of your classmates passing by to borrow some notes. You got up and moved to answer the door.

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Shit.

“Viktor! What’re you doing here? Did you receive my letter? I called in sick today.” The words rushed out of you before you could even think. You faked a cough to try and support your case further, hoping that the taller man was oblivious enough to believe it.

“Yes, eh… I did receive your letter. I simply wanted to check up on you.” Viktor said in a matter-of-factly tone, waving his hand around. The brunette gave you a once-over and the horror of realization settled itself deep into your skin. It was pretty obvious that you weren’t planning on leaving your dorm room today, so you hadn’t bothered to change out of your sleeping clothes – which in hindsight was quite revealing in a lot of areas. This was more than embarrassing, more than humiliation. This was hell.

Viktor placed a hand on the door, leaning on the hard wood slightly, “May I come in?” His cunning eyes bore into yours, practically towering over your height. You spluttered over your words, your brain had long melted into a puddle as you looked up at the older man. It’s that damn accent. In an attempt to salvage the situation you simply nodded your head, not trusting your mouth to listen to your brain. You stepped to the side, giving the man some space to enter.

Thump. Tap. Thump. Tap. Thump. Tap.

He looked around the room once before turning back to you.

“How are you feeling? Hm?” Viktor voiced out with a worried look. Both hands were laid to rest on his cane, favoring his weight on his good leg.

You swallowed in an attempt to release the growing knot in your throat, “I’ve got the flu.” The words came out quieter than you expected it to. You weren’t looking at Viktor, in fact you were looking past him and favoring the posters behind his figure. Despite this, you could feel his gaze burning into your skin, maybe he didn’t favor the fact that you were revealing more skin than he had ever seen from you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling a little self conscious.

“I have to apologize.” Viktor took a step towards you and it took everything in you to not take a step back. “It seems that I have, eh, overworked you… But I couldn’t help myself, you make a perfect assistant.” He continued on. Viktor tucked a hand into his pocket and tilted his head to the side. Was he trying to seduce you? Your heart thumped harder in your chest, sweat began to pool in your palms and around your temples. Maybe you really did have the flu.

You didn’t skip over the small compliment Viktor had tossed to you. In fact, the words bounced around your head like an echo in a large cave. You had spent so many months trying to prove yourself as an intelligent colleague, that it wasn’t a mistake that Heimerdinger so kindly offered you up to Viktor. It seems to have paid off.

“It’s alright. I think it’s the weather.” Your voice wavered and you let out another cough in an attempt to cover it up. A big mistake. The cough had seemingly activated something inside Viktor. He walked over to you, worry written all over his face. Before you could react, he had reached out and placed the back of his hand against your forehead. The touch was gentle, barely even there – as if you could feel the molecules between the two of you creating that barrier of separation.

“You are quite warm.” Viktor commented quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. Just as if his hand had a mind of its own for that moment, Viktor abruptly pulled away, clearing his throat awkwardly and tucking his hand straight into his pocket. “My apologies, that was quite forward of me.”

“It’s alright.” You repeated dumbly. Your brain was mush. It seemed no longer viable to consider yourself one of the top students at the Academy when your brain seemed to run away whenever in the presence of an attractive engineer. Any other normal girl would be ecstatic in this situation. Any other normal girl who had a crush on Viktor would rejoice, their minds going a mile a minute on how to take advantage of the fact that he was in their dorm room, a proper place of privacy – unfortunately you were not like other girls.

“Thank you for checking up on me.” The words came out so quiet. You couldn’t believe how shy you were at that moment. You were so confident. Going in head strong no matter what situation you were thrown in. Viktor may be right, love is the biggest hindrance for the progression of science. With how close Viktor was standing next to you, you had no choice but to crane your neck to look up at him. You don’t recall the researcher being this tall before.

“It is, eh… no problem. Don’t mention it.” Viktor mumbled quickly. He gave you a curt nod and began to rush out your room. He was out of your dorm before you could realize it, the moment your door clicked shut you were pulled out of your trance.

What just happened?

—------------------------------

You had tried to ignore whatever thoughts you had about Viktor from that day forward. You had pushed the memories of the day he visited your dorm into the pits of your mind. It was all a distraction. If you weren’t so persistent your grades would have started slipping by now – thankfully they haven’t. Viktor was simply expressing his care for a colleague. Surely he had done the same and then some for his beloved research partner, right?

Though it only got more difficult to ignore these thoughts when he suddenly started to push you away.

Your days at the lab were cut short with a curt, “You may go home now, Ms. Y/L/N.” He would barely even spare you a glance, his attention solely on whatever he pleased on doing, which apparently was anything but looking at you. It hurt. The same way an injection would feel. It was quick and subtle, but you could feel the imprint somewhere on your body.

You had lost your voice. Your arguments and small little conversations to attempt to stay for even a few minutes longer would die down before the syllables had even formed. Shadowed in defeat, you would quietly leave the lab.

Had Viktor changed his mind about you? Did he find a better student for the job? Or did he realize that having an assistant hinders his progress more than it should aid? You could do nothing. The days were cut shorter and shorter until there was nothing left. Until Viktor himself had requested that you, “Focus on your studies, your presence is no longer needed at the lab.”

His words felt like a knife into your chest, or worse, it felt like he had physically reached into your ribcage, wrapped his lithe fingers around your heart and yanked it right out of you. You didn’t know what to think, so you followed his orders. Just like you always did.

Your days became less exciting. You had adapted back to your usual routine of attending your lectures and heading to the library to drown yourself in your studies. Viktor’s words would replay in your mind like a broken record. He sounded so cold, so closed off. You thought that you had at least breached through his walls and found your own place by the outskirts of his own mind but he had abruptly pushed you away and placed brick after brick to keep you out. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really only saw you as an assistant.

It had been a month before you were reminded of anything hextech related. You had managed to distract yourself enough that you barely even thought about the lab, which was great, until you saw Jayce at the library.

Without a thought, you approached him. You were starving for answers, anything to explain why you had been basically fired.

“Jayce.” You called out, a little louder than what you intended which earned you a few hushes from the students who were probably cramming three month’s worth of information in their head. The midterms were coming up, which led you to the library as well.

“Y/N! It’s been a while!” The bright man had leaned over and engulfed you in his arms. He never really knew of the idea of personal space but you had always appreciated the warmth and comfort he would so freely give you, so you selfishly accepted it.

“It has been.” You mumbled, a little sad at that. Aside from the fact that it was a great opportunity to work with the two creators of hextech, you had also just missed the presence of the two men. They were practically a constant in your life, something that you looked forward to every day, all that just to be yanked from you with a cold tone.

“Y’finally decided you had enough of the lab?” Jayce chuckled with a shake of his head. He wouldn’t blame you if so. It was strenuous and anything but glamorous. He had figured that you had gotten your fill and decided to spend the remainder of your youth doing other things rather than slave away at a secluded lab.

“Uhm, no? Viktor told me to stop coming.”

Jayce blinked at you awkwardly and you blinked back. An odd feeling tugged at your heart, maybe it was a touchy subject but you were completely and utterly desperate for some sort of closure. Something that could make letting everything go a little easier than it was now.

Jayce let out an awkward chuckle, lifting his arm and rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, he did? That’s weird.”

“He never told you?” You inquired with a lift of your eyebrow. Jayce simply shook his head, doing as much as he could to avoid your gaze. A weird tension began to grow in the space between you, and Jayce, as much of an image he is for Piltover, simply could not handle awkward situations.

“That’s crazy! Anyway, I have to go.” Jayce plucked a book from the shelf in front of you, seemingly at random and scurried off. You turned to chase after the man but he practically ran out of the library. You thought you were confused before this, but now it felt as though you didn’t know anything.

As much as you wanted to study for your midterms, your brain was more focused on the sudden shift in your conversation with Jayce. You had run through all the possibilities in your head. Perhaps Jayce was feeling awkward now that you had been fired or maybe he was embarrassed that he was left out of the loop with the endeavours and plans of his very own research partner. You tried to entertain the thought that Jayce attempted to sway Viktor’s decision and the latter simply went behind his back – but even that sounded stupid.

You looked up from your textbooks to where the ghost of Jayce’s presence once stood. Nothing was making sense.

This was stupid. You were supposed to be studying for your midterms, you should be worried about your grades and your academic standing — but you were always terrible at following your brain instead of your heart.

You were pacing around the entrance of the lab. You had been for the past five minutes. You wanted to speak with Viktor or better yet, you wanted to wrap your hands around his throat and beg the man to just speak to you, but that simply couldn’t be no matter the circumstances. Maybe in a perfect world. The bigger concern was if this really was a good idea or if you were about to make a complete fool of yourself — but the latter was a fleeting concern. You had probably made a fool of yourself in front of Viktor numerous times, this could be an exception, right? It’s not like you weren’t allowed to speak with him anymore, and if that was the case, well, you wouldn’t know what you would do.

You ran your fingers through your hair for the nth time and decided to just go for it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Jayce had answered you at the door. He was barely peeking out the door, almost as if he was hiding. “Vik isn’t here.”

“I didn’t even…” You stopped mid way. You could hear the distinct sounds of tools hitting metal. That couldn’t be anyone else. You attempted to peer past Jayce but he was a large man, his chest covering what little opening the door already offered.

“Jayce, please. Let me talk to him?” You pleaded quietly, placing a hand on his arm.

Jayce sighed and dropped his head, allowing it to hang low from his shoulders. He looked back into the lab, anxiously chewing at his lower lip before he reluctantly agreed. He pushed the door open and let you pass under his arm as he stepped out — before you could ask why he was leaving, he had shut the door behind you.

You turned around, heartbeat loud in your ears. There he was. He had his back turned to the door, hovering around the chalkboard. You could sense the frustration growing from him and he was definitely too engrossed in whatever he was doing to notice that you were not Jayce.

Your heart ached, the numbing feeling spreading from your chest until your fingertips. Just seeing the tuft of his unruly hair had you missing him more than you ever had. He was right in front of you, you did not need any further proof of that fact, but in that moment it felt like he was a million miles away.

“Jayce, excuse my language, but what the fuck is this math.” Viktor sighed in annoyance, running a hand over his face before he turned to look in your direction. Viktor’s eyes widened in realization the moment they landed on your figure. Almost as if he was caught in the act, the man did not move a muscle, simply staring right at you like he had just seen an apparition of Janna herself.

Viktor cleared his throat and straightened up, “What are you doing here?”

You shook your head and took a step forward. You were having none of this nonsense anymore, “Viktor, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Viktor sounded so calm that it infuriated you. How could he act so normal, so nonchalant, after everything that had happened? You shook your head again and looked away. You could feel yourself wavering, tears brimming in your eyes and your lips had begun to wobble. This conversation could have gone a million different ways but no matter what, it felt like you would eventually end up just like this.

“Please just talk to me.” Your voice cracked but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. This was more than begging for your position back, you at the very least, just wanted to be able to talk to Viktor again. To go back to the way things were before. The rift that grew ever larger between the two of you had you resisting the urge to reach out like a pathetic child.

The engineer simply sighed and tilted his head to the side, shifting his weight onto his healthier leg. “I’d like to believe we are talking right now.”

“Why did you tell me to stop coming to the lab?”

Viktor simply turned back around and resumed his work. “I would rather not discuss that now, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You were at a loss. There was no use in being rational now. You walked up to the chalkboard, right behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso. If he did not want to talk, then so be it, but you were not leaving the lab without at least letting him feel what you wanted to say. Your heart was pounding, maybe it had never stopped. You feared that it was strong enough that Viktor could feel it through all the barriers between you.

Viktor tensed underneath your touch. The sound of chalk scratching against the green board had come to an immediate halt.

“I don’t think you understand.” Viktor whispered after what felt like minutes of silence, forehead pressed against the chalkboard. He didn’t dare look at you, not right now. Not when he felt so weak. One look from you and he was fucked. Viktor was a selfish man. He had grown up with nothing, he was nothing. Even after making a name for himself at Piltover, no one would pay him any mind. No one except you. You and your expressive eyes, kind words, and just how much you cared. It scared him. How could he face you when you had managed to peel through his carefully decorated façade?

You were nothing like the rest of them. You had looked past his physical being, you had seen him more than his weak leg, his cane, and the back brace embedded into his skin. It was a part of him now. It had always been, yet you had managed to strip that away from him. It was odd for Viktor to claim that you had treated him like a real person, the syllables were foreign on his tongue, but his lips were prepared to curl around them and proclaim to the world that you were perfect — and that was the problem. You’re young, intelligent, talented, beautiful, and so much more than what he could ever be, so why would he allow himself the privilege of being selfish and keeping you all to himself? You deserved so much more, more than the world and all the stars — how could he give you any of that?

“Let me understand.” You mumbled, nuzzling your face into his back. Your words were muffled and it tugged at the strings carefully wrapped around Viktor’s heart. You were so endearing, there was so much to love — Viktor could be dubbed a crazy scientist and an overachieving engineer, but he would toss that all away if it gave him the possibility of holding you close at night.

Silence grew in the lab once more. It was cold but with your arms around Viktor that hardly felt like a problem. You were afraid that maybe you were pushing him too much, but the longer you stayed like this, you could feel him slowly letting go.

“It seems that I have grown affectionate towards you.” Viktor explained quietly, hesitantly. You had never heard him sound so unsure of himself. “It’s quite bothersome. I cannot focus on my work like this.” You couldn’t stop the small giggle that escaped your lips. His words were soft, syllables pronounced but it was oozing with emotion.

You shifted around, loosening your arms around the man’s torso in favor of wanting to see his face. “Is that so bad?”

You looped around but Viktor kept himself still. Eyes closed and forehead against the chalkboard. It looked like if he had even bothered to move the whole world would collapse in on itself. Viktor could feel your gaze burning into his skin. He scrunched his eyes shut even further and shook his head, turning to look the other way. You placed your hand on his arm, fingers wrapped around the fabric of his buttoned up shirt. You tugged on his shirt. The engineer let out a shaky breath and reluctantly turned to look at you.

Viktor reached out, cupping a hand around the side of your face. “Eh… maybe not so much.” His thumb smoothed over the apple of your cheek. His touch was so light, so soft — almost as if he pressed any harder, you would break. You leaned into Viktor’s touch, humming softly.

“I like you too, you know?” You mumbled. You lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. It felt as though you were melting under his gaze, you didn’t think it was humanly possible to look at someone with so much affection and care — Viktor was more than human anyway.

It may not have been the right place or time, hell, the two of you were practically professing your love for one another at the goddamn lab. Viktor had always said that the lab was where miracles happened and you guessed that he wasn’t so wrong with that. The two of you remained like that for a few more moments before the brunette pulled away. The ghost of Viktor’s touch was burned into your skin and you were reluctant to admit that you had already missed it.

He took a step forward and placed a gentle hand right by the crown of your head.

“I may have picked up on a few hints.”

Viktor leaned in and pressed his lips on your forehead.

Your mind was racing and your heart was threatening to beat faster and faster until you died of heart failure right then and there. You scrunched your eyes shut and allowed yourself to really soak in the moment. This was what you had been waiting for, craving even, since you had met the man. You resisted the urge to pinch yourself, wondering if this all may be some fever dream. Despite feeling like you were on top of the world, Viktor’s touch kept you grounded.

The man pulled away and cupped your face once more, this time with both of his hands. Cane discarded to lean on the side of the chalkboard. His gaze was almost scrutinizing, as if he himself was assessing if this was real or not. After a few moments, he pulled away and cleared his throat.

“I hope that answers your question sufficiently.” Viktor adjusted his uniform vest and grabbed his cane. “Now if you don’t mind… I would, eh… like to return to my work. I think I had gotten enough inspiration to continue for the day.” He simply nodded and picked up a piece of chalk. You didn’t miss the fact that his cheeks were dusted with a soft pink hue.

“Does this mean I can stay?” You hummed, arms wrapped around one of the poles that held the chalkboard up, a cheeky grin on your lips.

Viktor turned his gaze to you, almost bashfully, and nodded his head. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. That would be quite pleasant.”

You let out a pleasant hum, turning to head to the couch before you were interrupted by a cough. You turned your head to the side, curious and a little confused.

“Actually, ehm… there are some papers over there that need sorting… And I would like a cup of tea.” Viktor confessed shyly, bringing up a hand to point at a desk on the far side of the lab. You followed his hand with wide eyes. It was definitely more than ‘some’ papers, as Viktor had mentioned. It was at least two tall stacks worth of papers sitting next to each other.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Seems like I’m kind of important ‘round here, huh?” You nodded your head and walked to the desk, determined to get started.

Viktor nodded his head with a small smile, “Yes. Very important actually.”

#viktor #arcane #arcane viktor #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor imagines #viktor headcanons #viktor fanfic #arcane viktor x reader

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aila0veyou2death · 11 days ago

Note

HIHIHI!! I saw that requests are on lmao and wanted to request if u can write about a Toga!reader from mha with Mark? I dont have this request well thought out lol but I wanna to read about the reader asking Mark to suck his blood cuz she loves him sm and it's just a way of loving him/wanting to be closer to him. Or maybe how she would be with other variants and their reactions to this?

𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𖹭 pairing: invincible/mark grayson x toga!reader (A.K.A everyone's favorite punching bag with savior complex x darling killer who just wants to be loved)

𖹭 TW: NON CON touching, dark content, blood, gore, violence, yandere behavior, deaths, biting, body horror, m4sterbati0n, biting, n3cr0philia?, sadism, knifeplay, love confession, blood kink, (no smut)

𖹭 author's note: hey love, huge thanks for being my very first requester! ♡ I did my best to capture Himiko Toga's personality, but I gave her my own little twist (hope you don't mind!). I really hope you enjoy this fic, even though it's a bit long and messy. Thanks again for the support :P

YOU left a trail of blood and filth in your wake.

It all started with one body—a man in his forties, found slumped against a dumpster in the alley behind Burger Mart. His throat was cleanly slit, his chest torn open, and his heart gone, leaving only a dried smear of blood across his torso. His limbs were stiff and awkward, as if he'd been dropped carelessly. His skin had gone pale, cold, and tight over his bones, drained of every last drop of blood.

He looked like an empty juice box tossed aside without a second thought.

Just another late-night murder in a city built on violence—the kind of death that barely stirred public interest, let alone made the evening news.

The responding officers were clearly unsettled when they arrived. One of them muttered something about how clean the wound was, how deliberate. Another swore under his breath, as the flashlight trembled in his grip. But there were no leads. No witnesses. No surveillance footage. No prints. Just a corpse that looked too neat for a gang hit and too messy for a clean kill.

They did their job, took their photos, wrote their reports, called it in. The word "TASTY" spelled out on the body had been exsanguinated post-mortem, but couldn't confirm the exact method. It was strange, yes—but in a city like this, strange wasn't enough.

They chalked it up to a mugging gone wrong. Maybe organ trafficking. Maybe some unhinged vigilante making a statement. There was no evidence to say otherwise. So they zipped up the body bag, filed the paperwork, and quietly tossed the case into the ever-growing pile of unresolved crimes that were collecting dust in the precinct basement.

It was left unsolved and forgotten.

Until it happened again.

A week later, it was a young woman, barely in her twenties, who was found dead inside the dressing room of a small boutique downtown. She sat on the floor like a broken doll, her back slouched against the wall, chin tilted down as if she was admiring the beautiful, blood-soaked dress clinging to her body. Her skin was covered in tiny crescent-shaped marks, like someone had kissed her over and over with their teeth.

This one caught the attention of the police. It felt off—ritualistic, too personal. But even then, they brushed it off as a one-off. Maybe it was caused by an angry customer in the shop or maybe a jealous friend. Something. They didn't connect it to the man in the alley, not yet. Just another case buried under red tape and assumptions.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Different corners of the city. Different types of victims. Men. Women. Younglings. Elderlies. None of them seemed to be connected. No shared workplace or relationship. No overlapping habits. But every single one was found the same way—drained, pale, twisted like marionettes with cut strings. Bloodless. Limbs bent into impossible angles. Bite marks blooming across their skin like bruises. Some were stabbed until their organs spilled out in ribbons. Others… seemed to have been used—touched, posed, played with, like toys in some perverted game.

Then the pattern shifted.

And that's when the Global Defense Agency finally got involved.

It wasn't just civilians anymore.

Low-grade heroes began vanishing without a trace. Sidekicks. Interns barely fresh out of training, still grinning with hope, still figuring out how to zip up their suits the right way, disappeared on solo patrols and never came back. At first, it was brushed off as carelessness. A few days passed, then their bodies started showing up.

But it didn't stop there.

Even villains—ones with reputations too terrifying to whisper—started turning up butchered like raw meat. Some were found with their tongues torn out. Others with their chests split open, hearts missing entirely.

There were always messages.

Little tokens of affection left behind at every scene.

Heart shapes drawn in blood—on walls, on floors, sometimes on the bodies themselves. Lipstick kisses pressed onto cold, lifeless throats. And words—carved into skin like poetry, each letter trembling with obsession.

"LOVE ME."

"MINE."

"TOUCH HIM AND DIE."

"PRETTY."

They weren't just killings anymore. They were something darker. Unhinged. A twisted display of violence that made even the most seasoned investigators shudder. There was no clear pattern to follow, but one thing started to stand out—many of the victims were unnervingly attractive. Young, beautiful, desirable. But that wasn't the worst part.

The brutality felt... personal. It was as if whoever was doing this had more than just a need to kill. The manner of the deaths—those intimate, grotesque marks left on the bodies—suggested a perversion, an obsession that couldn't be ignored. It wasn't about justice or revenge. This felt like something far more insidious.

Some even whispered about the killer being a vampire, but no one could explain how such a creature could walk through the city without being noticed. What was clear, though, was the terror each crime scene radiated. Whoever was responsible was insane, driven by something no one could comprehend.

That they didn't care if the victims were heroes, villains, or something in between. Capes, masks, titles—they were all meaningless.

Because this wasn't a killing spree anymore.

This was a love letter.

Written in blood.

Signed with madness.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Invincible.

That very name sent a thrill down your spine every time it was whispered on the news, shouted in panic, or etched into headlines soaked in blood and awe. Invincible. The son of Omni-man. The golden boy born from betrayal.

Everyone knew who he was.

The world called him a hero—sometimes. Other times, they called him a fool. A ticking time bomb. A monster wearing his father's old sins like a second skin, dressed up in bright yellow and blue as if that would cleanse the blood off his name.

But not you. Never you.

You didn't see a monster.

You saw him.

Because once—just once—he saved your life.

The memory of being caught up in the middle of a villain's rampage. Just another face in the panicked crowd. You don't remember much of it—only the weight of rubble above you, the scent of smoke, and the rising certainty that you were about to die.

And then he was there. A blur of colors and blood. Bruised, limping, and barely standing himself.

But yet, he still chose you to save you.

He picked you up with shaking arms and got you out of there. Just for a second, you were cradled against his chest like you were something fragile. Precious even. His heartbeat thundered against your ear. You remember the way he looked down at you—exhausted, bleeding, but alive.

And in that fleeting moment, you believed your life mattered.

To him.

Even if he forgot you the second he flew off to save someone else, that moment stayed with you. Blooming into something deeper than you could fully register.

The hero named Invincible had unlocked something dangerous inside of you.

He's always fighting. Always surviving.

Covered in blood and bruises, barely breathing some days. Even when the world turned against him, even when his own body gave out and he collapsed mid-battle, he always got back up. That's what made you love him. Not his strength. Not the name. But the way he suffered. The way he bled for people who never deserved him. The way he hurt.

And maybe it started there. The obsession. The infatuation. Watching him on grainy livestreams, recording every frame, memorizing the way his fists clenched when he got angry, the way he winced every time he got hurt. You've read every thread, followed every forum. Collected every newspaper and photograph like sacred scripture.

But it wasn't enough.

You needed more.

So you started digging. Slipping into dark corners of the web, bribing black-market info dealers, paying in blood when money wasn't enough. You broke into agency servers, threatened people who got too nosy. You memorized GDA patrol routes, stole files, hacked comms, followed him through the sky when you could.

Until one night, there it was—buried in a corrupted data file deep inside a forgotten hard drive pulled from a broken GDA drone. A name and a face revealed itself.

Mark Grayson.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Mark.

He had a name. A home. A life. A history. He wasn't just a fantasy anymore—he was real.

You laughed and cried a little, maybe. Hugged the screen monitor to your chest like it was a love letter. You whispered his name over and over until it tasted like sugar on your tongue. You watched old news clips of his father, paused them at just the right frames to see Mark in the background. You replayed the moments you had once overlooked, tracing his figure on the screen with a gentle touch.

It felt like falling in love all over again—except this time, you were closer than ever to your goal. Closer to making him love you back.

But even then—he still didn't see you.

Because no matter how much you watched, no matter how close you got,

he never looked back.

So you made sure he'd notice.

You stopped holding back.

For the first time, you let the hunger consume you completely. Twenty lives in just under a month. Twenty warm bodies that writhed and begged and bled beneath your hands. You drained them dry, one after another, licking the life right out of their veins as if savoring the last drops of wine at a decadent feast.

Each one tasted different. Some sharp, metallic. Others are sweet like syrup. But none of them were his. None of them made your tongue tingle with that fantasy you've played over and over in your head.

Mark Grayson.

What would he taste like? Would his blood be warm and rich like sunlight, or bitter with the weight of his pain? Would it burn your throat like a guilty pleasure, or melt on your tongue like a secret?

The thought alone made your thighs press together.

You only chose the pretty ones. The ones with soft skin and bright eyes—people who looked like they were built to be adored. People who, in your twisted logic, deserved to die in the warmth of your love. You'd cradle their lifeless faces as their blood soaked your clothes, paint hearts on their cheeks with their own fluids, whisper sweet nothings into their cold, deaf ears.

And when it was over—when their final breath left their lungs and the world went quiet—you didn't stop just yet.

You straddled the corpse while it was still warm, with sticky blood clinging to your thighs as you rocked your hips slowly, teasing yourself on the dead man's body like it was a lover. It wasn't him—but in your mind, it was. It had to be. You closed your eyes and pretended, trembling as your fingers slid between your folds, soaked with arousal and death.

Your slick mixed with blood, dripped down your thighs as you fucked yourself harder—two fingers deep, knuckle-deep, curling and thrusting as you used their cooling body like a prop for your fantasy. You moaned like a slut, voice broken and desperate with your hips grinding in slow, obscene circles. The blood made everything slippery, messy, and perfect.

You pictured Mark pinning you down, his weight pressing into you, his bloodied hands gripping your wrists, voice snarling filth into your ear as he rutted into you like an animal. You imagined the way he'd split you open, ruin you so good you'd cry for it, his cock stretching you while the world burned around you both.

"Fuck—Mark!" you cried out, breath hitching, fingers fucking faster, rougher. "Need you. Need your cock—need your cum—fuck, please—"

Your back arched as your orgasm crashed over you, your cunt clenching around your own fingers while your blood-slicked thighs trembled violently. You sobbed out his name again, drunk on the fantasy, ruined on top of a corpse you barely remembered killing.

You slumped forward, sticky and panting, with your cheek pressed to a cooling chest. You smiled through the tears and mess.

You were getting closer.

Closer to being his.

Closer to making him yours.

Even if it meant drowning the world in red.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Mark knew about the murders.

You'd be living under a rock if you never heard about it. It was all over the news—headlines screaming about bodies found mutilated and drained of blood, left in grotesque, intimate poses that made even seasoned investigators sick. The killings weren't just violent. They felt personal. Victims were left sprawled on the ground, limbs twisted as if reaching for someone who was never coming. Faces frozen in terror, cheeks smeared with blood-streaked fingerprints, like a lover's touch gone horribly wrong.

At first, it was just civilians. Pretty young women. Handsome men. People who had no connection, no obvious reason to be targeted except that they looked like they belonged in a perfume ad or a fashion magazine. Then a couple of low-level villains ended up dead in the same fashion. Then a few heroes and agency interns. One of them was someone Mark knew. Not well, but enough that it knocked the breath from his lungs when he heard their death.

The GDA started getting involved—quietly at first. But Mark noticed them—agents rushing to crime scenes in the darkest corners of the city, murmuring words like "copycat killer" and "blood fetish" under their breath.The vibe around these murders was different. Everyone felt it. And Mark, who was still reeling from his most recent fight, exhausted and still healing, didn't need one more horror to add to his plate.

And then the letters started showing up.

It began with a simple package. No return address. Dropped into his college dorm mail. Mark barely noticed it until he saw the label:

To my darling Invincible ♡

He frowned and opened it. Inside was a small, handmade plushie of himself. Perfectly stitched in that bright yellow and blue colors. Tiny little bloodstains dabbed at the corners, like someone pricked their fingers while sewing it. There was a note folded neatly beneath it—written in looping, pretty cursive on rose-scented paper:

Hii ♡ You don't know me, but I know you! I'm your biggest fan! I watch you all the time and I love everything you do~ You're so strong and brave and amazing, even when you’re hurt... actually, especially when you're hurt. It makes me want to hold you and kiss all your bruises better ♡

You looked so tired and beaten up on the news the other day... seeing you like that made my chest ache. I just wanted to scoop you up and take care of you myself. I hope this little gift keeps you company while you rest! ♡

Please eat well and get lots of sleep, okay? I worry about you sooo much... you mean more to me than anything in the world. I love you so much (>///<)

I'll be watching you always~ ♡

Love forever,

Your #1 fan ♡

No name. No address. No explanation. Just… that.

Mark didn't think much of it at first. Fans existed. Some got weird. He was used to bizarre mail—requests for autographs, drawings, the occasional flirty note. But then came the second letter.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

That's when things turned strange.

Trinkets started arriving in neat little boxes, tied with delicate pink ribbons. Locks of black hair sealed in plastic. Dried petals soaked in blood, pressed between handwritten pages that reeked of perfume and iron.

Child-like drawings with crayon hearts and stick figures of him and someone else—always a girl with blank, blacked-out eyes and a red smile too wide. They were always holding hands. Always kissing.

Sometimes, he was drawn with a knife in his chest, and the girl crying hearts onto his body.

One package contained a half-burned photograph of him walking out of school in plain clothes—his backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes on his phone. The back reads in smeared ink:

You're so beautiful when you're distracted. I want to be the one who breaks your focus.

Another box had a teddy bear with its head stitched back on, soaked in something sticky and sweet-smelling. A voice recording hidden in its stuffing played a girl humming softly. A lullaby. Twisted and broken by static. But underneath the crackle, he could hear her muttering his name.

And then there were the letters—so many letters.

Covered in lipstick marks, childish doodles, dried blood, and glitter.

They didn't ask for anything.

They only promised to bring him love and devotion. Forever.

I'll be your everything, even if you don't want me yet. I already belong to you.

You looked so tired last night. Gosh, I really wanted to kiss every bruise. Don't worry—I will, one day.

Do you know how many people I've turned down just for you? They begged, but they weren't you. They didn't matter.

Mark didn't say it aloud, but something about it all crawled beneath his skin...

That's when he finally realized.

The gifts weren't addressed to Mark Grayson.

No, they were always for Invincible—but they referenced things only someone who knew his real identity would know. What shirt he wore on campus. Which route he walked home. How he looked when he was too tired to smile. The way he joked with his friends at Burger Mart. What nights he stayed home with his mom, helping her cook dinner because he "owed her a favor."

Details no one should know.

But yet, someone out there knew.

Mark sat at his desk that night, letters scattered across the wood, the room unnervingly quiet around him. He picked up one of the envelopes and turned it over, brow frowning when he caught sight of the kiss mark in blood staining the seal.

Still no name.

Still no hint of who it was.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the mess of notes and little trinkets piling up.

This wasn't normal. They weren't just a fan. This wasn't just admiration, and whoever this was—they've been watching him. Following him. Studying him. A possible threat.

Mark wasn't scared.

He was pissed off.

And worried.

Because if someone was willing to cross this many lines for him...

What else were they willing to do?

Mark's mind raced with possibilities, ugly scenarios spinning out like spiderwebs. What if they came after his mom? His friends? What if they were already close enough to touch him without him even knowing?

Because sooner or later, Mark knew, he was going to have to face them.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

The mission was chaos.

What was supposed to be a simple takedown turned into a battlefield straight out of a nightmare.

Mutated beasts, bigger and faster than anything they'd been briefed for, tore through the abandoned industrial zone.

The new Guardians fought to keep up, but they were scattered, wounded, shouting over broken comms.

Mark barely caught sight of a flash of claws before a massive creature barreled into him, sending him flying like a stone across the concrete wasteland.

The world spun.

He smashed through a wall, skidded across broken asphalt, and lay there for a second, groaning, the night air cold and sharp in his lungs. His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself up, shaking debris out of his hair. His vision swam. Distantly, he heard the others still fighting—but he was cut off, alone.

Stumbling forward, he turned to a corner—and froze.

In the half-lit clearing beyond the broken ruins, a scene of carnage stretched out before him.

One young sidekick—a rookie, barely older than a kid—lay dead in a pool of blood, body twisted unnaturally.

Another sidekick, battered and gasping, feebly tried to crawl away from the figure kneeling over them.

It wasn't a monster.

It was a girl.

YOU sat comfortably in a puddle of blood like it was a warm bath, your head tilted slightly, as you hummed a tune under your breath. Blood soaked your clothes and hands. There's even smudges across your cheek in a careless streak. In one hand, you toyed with a gleaming knife, twirling it lazily between your fingers.

His presence seems to have alarmed you as you looked up in his direction.

Then the moment your eyes locked on his, they lit up like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time.

"Invincible!" You gasped, voice bubbling with giddy excitement. You clapped your bloodstained hands to your cheeks, practically vibrating with happiness. "You're really here! I can't believe it! You're really here! Oh god!"

Mark stiffened instinctively, with his body screaming to move, to do something, but he stayed frozen, caught off guard by the sheer giddiness pouring off you in waves.

You quickly rose to your feet, swaying slightly, with a blood-streaked knife dangling loosely from your fingers. You approached him with a light, almost bouncing step, as if walking on air. Your cheeks were flushed pink, your eyes glossy with tearful joy, your whole body trembling from sheer excitement.

"I'm your biggest fan!" you cried out, your voice quivering with emotion. "I've dreamt about meeting you, about actually talking to you! I was expecting it to be a little more romantic—but that's fine! You're here! You're standing right in front of me! And that's all that matters!" you babbled, the words tumbling over each other in your giddy rush. You looked at him like a little girl seeing her favorite fairytale prince come to life, as if you had just won the most precious thing in the world.

Mark's heart slammed painfully against his ribs.

For a moment, he could only stare at you, the words tripping over themselves in his fogged brain.

Biggest fan.

The letters.

The bloody gifts.

The weird, child-like drawings.

The lock of hair.

He blinked hard, with his mind racing and stomach sinking.

"...Wait," he croaked, voice rough with disbelief. He took a slow, instinctive half-step back. "Wait—don't tell me you're the—the one who's been giving me all those gifts—"

"Yes!!" you burst out, cutting him off, your bloody hands clapping together with a wet, sticky sound. "That was me!! Oh my God, you figured it out so fast! You're so smart, Mark! I always knew you were perfect!" you squealed, bouncing once on the balls of your feet like an overexcited child.

Mark's blood ran cold.

He instinctively shifted another step back, his jaw clenching as his gaze flicked briefly past you—to the bodies sprawled behind you. One unmoving. Another still twitching weakly.

No.

No, no.

He forced himself to focus back on you, his fists tightening at his sides.

"You..." he growled, his voice low and furious now. "You're the one who's been killing people these past few months."

You tilted your head sweetly, your blood-matted hair sliding over your shoulder. You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes, like he had just asked if you liked puppies.

"Aaand?" you said lightly, letting out a soft giggle that sent a shiver down his spine.

Fuck.

You're insane.

You're dangerous.

And you're obsessed—with him.

He shifted his weight, preparing to strike first, to end this before anyone else got hurt.

But you were faster.

The moment he tensed, you lunged at him with startling speed, the gleaming knife flashing in your hand. The blade, still smeared with blood, arced toward him with wild, giggling energy. At your hip, some strange mechanical device strapped around your waist hissed softly—lined with sharp little needles, twitching and ready.

Mark dodged just in time, but you were relentless, laughing breathlessly, slicing at him with wild abandon. Every time he stepped back, you pressed closer, your face flushed with sheer exhilaration.

"I love you, Mark!!" you gasped between attacks, your voice high and breathless. "I've always loved you! You're my everything! Everything I ever wanted!"

The knife slashed again, grazing his arm—it was not deep, but enough to sting.

And your device sprang to life instantly—a sharp, thin needle shooting toward the wound like a striking snake, trying to drink from the fresh cut.

Mark snarled and slapped it away, stumbling back, panting.

"You're insane!" he snapped, his voice shaking with furious disbelief. "Stay the hell away from me!"

But you only laughed—in a sweet, trembling, horrifying sound, so full of innocent adoration it made his skin crawl.

"I just want to be a part of you." you whispered, clutching the bloody knife close to your chest like a precious love letter. "I want to live inside you, Mark. Right here..." You pressed a bloodied hand flat against your own chest, over your heart, your eyes dreamy and soft. "Inside your ribs, close to your heart... wrapped up in your warmth forever... Isn't that beautiful?"

Mark's stomach twisted.

He had fought monsters before. Aliens. Mutants. Nightmares from beyond the stars.

But this?

This was worse.

This was human. Twisted into something terrifying.

And it wanted him.

You twirled the knife playfully between your fingers, giggling breathlessly, the blood on your face gleaming under the broken, flickering streetlights. "You're just so adorable like this, all bruised and bloody," you cooed lovingly. "I just want to scoop you up and put you in my pocket... keep you safe forever. So no one can ever hurt you again! Wouldn't that be nice, Mark? Only me... Only I get to touch you."

Mark's fists clenched tighter, fury burning through his veins.

He charged at you without thinking—and for a moment you dodged gracefully, almost dancing—before you spun on your heel and lunged, stabbing at him again with the sharp device strapped to your waist.

Mark grunted as he hit the ground hard, the air punching out of his lungs. Before he could even scramble up, you were on him — straddling his hips, pinning him down with surprising strength. Your hands, still sticky with blood, pressed against his chest as you leaned in close, your face flushed, your eyes wide and glassy with adoration.

The needle found a new wound, and it pierced just beneath his ribs—and you let out a shaky, blissful sigh, your whole body shuddering in delight.

"Please..." you whispered desperately, voice trembling with devotion. "Please, just let me have a sip... just a little taste... so we can be connected. So I can be with you forever..."

You gazed down at him, your eyes wide, glassy, pleading.

"Let me live inside you, Mark... inside your heart... inside your blood... I want to be yours forever and ever and ever..."

Mark struggled, growling under his breath, but your grip was surprisingly firm. His body tensed and jerked beneath you, trying to break free, but you clung to him with the desperation of someone who had waited their whole life for this moment. His mind screamed for him to move, to fight, to do something—but there was something stopping him.

Maybe it was the hesitation blooming like a poisonous flower in his chest, a sick, churning knot twisting his guts.

Or maybe it was the blood loss—the slow, awful realization creeping over him as he felt the thin sharp tubes of your device hungrily siphoning more and more of his blood, the warmth of it leaving his body in shuddering waves.

He gritted his teeth, his heart hammering painfully, his vision starting to blur at the edges. His fists clenched into the fabric of your outfit as he tried to push you off, but you only pressed closer, pinning him tighter against the cold concrete with a strength fueled by sheer, manic devotion.

"Get off me...!" he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice low and dangerous—but you only giggled softly in response and that sent fresh chills skittering down his spine.

Your eyes shimmered with feverish delight as you leaned down, your face inches from his. "Not until you love me back..." you whispered, voice quivering with emotion, "and let me have a taste of your blood."

Mark's body jerked weakly beneath you, but you shushed him, your bloody fingers brushing tenderly over his bruised cheek, smearing crimson across his skin like war paint. You smiled widely, trembling with joy—like this was the happiest moment of your life.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut for half a second, gritting his teeth harder, trying to block out the horrible sweetness of your words. He forced his body to move, to react—but the blood loss made everything slow, sluggish, like moving underwater.

The needle of your device slid deeper against his skin, greedily drinking from him, and you let out a soft, breathless sigh of pure bliss, your whole body shuddering from the overwhelming happiness of being this close to him as your dream finally come reality.

"You're mine now." you whispered.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𖹭 please don't repost, publish, or translate this shit anywhere. You don't have the right to do that. Thank you for understanding.

Divider made by @cafekitsune ୨ৎ

author's note: sorry this took forever to finish! I kinda stared at anon's request for a while like "??? Help:)" because this was actually my first time writing a request fic! Thankyou so much for being patient and reading through it!

#𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒕🐈‍⬛𖹭.ᐟ #(∩˃o˂∩)Requested♡.ᐟ #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson smut #invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #invincible x fem!reader #toga himiko #MY VAMPIRE QUEEEEEN

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solxamber · 7 months ago

Note

Hello!! I absolutely adore your writing and have been reading a lot of it recently 🫶

I have a request, but may follow a more sensitive topic? I was wondering if you could write a fic with Idia, Cater, Rollo (twisted wonderland), or Welt, Ratio, Boothill (honkai star rail) comforting a recovering reader struggling with SH.

I can understand the denial of this request, as it can touch on a sensitive topic, but it would mean a lot to me if you considered it. I've been struggling with this for a while and it would be nice to have some comfort with recovery.

Again, I adore your work and I hope you can consider my request.

Idia, Rollo, Cater and Welt, Ratio, Boothill with a Recovering Reader

Warnings: Mentions of SH

i hope you're doing well now anon. i'm so so proud of you and i'm cheering you on in your recovery. if you wanted something different, please let me know!

it's a sensitive topic that i don't have first hand experience in, so i hope that nothing comes off as insensitive.

Idia Shroud

It had been one of those days. The weight of everything felt suffocating, and you couldn’t quite shake the heaviness that clung to your chest. The dorm felt too loud despite the silence, and yet somehow still too empty. You needed an escape—something to distract from the gnawing thoughts that tugged at the edges of your mind.

So, naturally, you found yourself at Ignihyde.

You didn’t say much when you got there. It wasn’t like you needed to. Idia was sitting at his usual setup, bathed in the glow of his multiple monitors, tapping away with his game controller. He didn’t glance up, but his fingers paused just for a second.

“You, uh, can sit over there if you want,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely to a cushion beside him. “No big deal, really. You can just… chill.”

You took the offer, sinking into the seat beside him. Idia never pressed for conversation, which you appreciated more than words could express. The quiet was comforting in a way that only he could provide. His presence wasn’t demanding, nor was it suffocating—it was just there, a steady companion when everything else felt too much.

After a few minutes of just the sounds of the game filling the air, Idia spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“I’m not, like, great at pep talks or anything.” His eyes stayed glued to the screen, a blush dusting his cheeks. “But, like, if you ever… I dunno, need a distraction or something, you can always come by. We can game or… just sit. Whatever works.”

It was such a simple offer, but the sincerity in his voice cut through the haze of your thoughts. You knew Idia wasn’t one for big gestures or emotional outbursts, but his awkward, roundabout way of offering support warmed something deep inside you. He understood—maybe more than anyone else—the desire to escape, to disappear into a world where the problems of reality couldn’t touch you.

The next few times you visited, the routine was the same. Quiet, gaming, the occasional muttered commentary from Idia. But there was something so comforting in the routine, in knowing you didn’t have to explain yourself. That he didn’t expect anything from you, just your presence.

One evening, as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, Idia hesitated, fidgeting with his controller before finally speaking.

“You’re, uh… You’re important, you know that, right? Like, I don’t have many people I’d say that to, but you’re… one of them. Just… don’t disappear, okay?”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you, and you found yourself blinking back the sting of tears. It was a simple statement, but it held the weight of his affection and worry, wrapped in the awkward delivery that was so uniquely him. You didn’t have to say anything; you knew he wasn’t expecting a response.

Instead, you just stayed. That night, in the warmth of his presence and the soft hum of the game, you felt a little less alone.

Cater Diamond

You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until you found yourself dragged into Cater’s latest selfie spree. He had a way of sneaking up on you with his usual grin and carefree energy, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as he pulled out his phone.

“Hey! How about we grab some quick pics? No filters this time, just the two of us being real.”

Normally, you’d groan, roll your eyes, and let Cater have his fun without thinking much of it. But today, the idea of being in front of a camera, of capturing yourself as you were now, felt… daunting. You hesitated, tugging at the sleeves of your shirt, your eyes downcast.

Cater, as perceptive as ever, didn’t let it slide.

He turned the camera away for a moment, his smile softening just slightly as he glanced at you. “Hey, no pressure, seriously. We don’t have to do the whole selfie thing if you’re not feeling it. I just thought… you know, we could capture some real moments.”

You glanced up at him, noticing the way his usual carefree demeanor had gentled. Cater might act like everything was all fun and games, but he was more in tune with people’s emotions than he let on. He wasn’t forcing you, wasn’t pushing—just offering a moment of distraction, of fun, if you wanted it.

After a long pause, you finally shrugged, offering a small smile. “Okay, one picture.”

Cater beamed, but it wasn’t his usual bright, showy grin. It was soft, genuine, like he understood what a big step this was for you.

The selfie session wasn’t as performative as you’d expected. Cater didn’t force you into poses or try to make you laugh when you weren’t in the mood. He just stood beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders, and snapped a couple of candid photos. There was something comforting in the simplicity of it, in the way he let you just be.

After a while, he pulled back and glanced at his phone, showing you one of the photos. It wasn’t perfect—your smile was a bit lopsided, your hair a little messy—but Cater grinned at it like it was the best picture he’d ever taken.

“See?” he said, his tone light. “No filters needed. You’re perfect just like this.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and you found yourself blinking back tears you hadn’t realized were there. Cater, ever perceptive, noticed immediately and nudged you gently with his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be ‘camera-ready’ for me. I like you as you are, messy hair and all.”

Later that evening, when you checked your phone, you found the photos he’d sent you. Beneath one of them, he’d written: "Real friends don’t need filters. You’re more than enough, just as you are."

And for the first time in a while, you believed it.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo had always been the type to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You admired his conviction, his sense of duty, but today, as you sat beside him in the quiet of the garden, it was hard to find comfort in his seriousness.

You had come to him seeking solace, though you weren’t sure if Rollo’s stoic demeanor would offer the comfort you needed. He wasn’t one for soft words or gentle encouragement, but something about the way he watched the world with such intensity made you feel like he saw through the chaos swirling inside you.

For a long while, the two of you sat in silence, the rustle of leaves the only sound breaking the stillness. You expected Rollo to stay silent, as he often did, but after a moment, he spoke, his voice low but steady.

“There’s a battle you’re fighting,” he said, not looking at you. “A battle within yourself. I understand.”

His words startled you, not because they were untrue, but because they were so unexpectedly... personal. You glanced at him, finding his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve fought similar battles,” he continued, his tone measured. “It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, to believe you’re fighting alone. But you’re not. You never have to be.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, and for the first time, you realized just how much you had been carrying by yourself. Rollo’s offer of support was understated, as was his way, but the sincerity behind it was impossible to ignore.

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I won’t pretend to understand everything you’re going through. But I’m here. I’ll stand with you, as long as you need.”

The weight of his promise hit you harder than you expected, and without a word, you found yourself leaning into his steady presence. He didn’t flinch or pull away—he simply let you rest, offering the quiet strength you didn’t realize you needed.

Welt

Welt’s calm demeanor had always been a source of comfort for you, but today, it felt especially grounding. After a long day of battling your inner turmoil, you found yourself seeking him out, hoping his presence could soothe the storm raging inside.

You didn’t have to say anything when you arrived. Welt, ever perceptive, seemed to understand without words. He led you to a quiet spot under the stars, his gaze gentle as he sat beside you.

“The stars have always been a reminder to me,” he said softly, looking up at the sky. “No matter how dark it gets, there’s always light somewhere. You just have to look for it.”

You followed his gaze, the twinkling lights above offering a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in days. The silence between you was comforting, not suffocating, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

Welt turned to you, his expression kind. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you’re going through, you have people who care about you. And if you ever need a reminder, just look at the stars.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made your chest ache. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear that. The stars twinkled above, and you found yourself nodding, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I don’t want to burden anyone,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Welt shook his head, a gentle smile breaking across his face. “You’re never a burden. Reaching out is part of being human. We all have our battles, and sharing them makes them lighter. You have to let others in, even when it feels hard.”

You looked away, feeling the warmth of his presence wrap around you like a comforting blanket. Welt had a way of putting things into perspective, of making you feel seen without demanding anything from you. His understanding was a lifeline, a beacon guiding you through the darkness.

“What if I keep struggling?” you asked, the fear spilling out before you could hold it back.

“Then we’ll face it together,” he replied with quiet confidence. “Every time you feel lost, remember that I’m here, and so are the others. Just like the stars—sometimes hidden, but always there.”

As the cool night air wrapped around you, you leaned into Welt’s side, allowing the silence to envelop you both. You felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a little, the comfort of his unwavering presence bolstering your resolve.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you finally said, your voice steadier.

“Me too,” Welt replied, glancing up at the stars once more. “And remember, no matter how dark it gets, you are never truly alone.”

Dr. Ratio

Dr. Ratio sits across from you, his expression calm and thoughtful. He’s not the type to rush into emotional outbursts, but the concern in his gaze is unmistakable.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he says quietly, voice steady. “I know the weight you’re carrying is immense, but you’re stronger than it.”

You nod, feeling a knot in your chest loosen as he continues. “One step at a time. We’ll make sense of it together. Just know—I’m here for you.”

He reaches out, his hand resting gently on yours. His grip is firm but comforting, grounding you in the moment. The logical part of him is evident in his approach—he breaks things down into manageable pieces, knowing that’s what you need right now.

“There’s no shame in struggling, and there’s no shame in asking for help. It’s okay to feel lost, but you won’t always be. Healing isn’t linear, but each day is progress.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, soothing the anxious storm swirling inside. As you lean into his comfort, he offers you a small smile, the kind that tells you things will get better, even if it doesn’t feel that way now.

“You don’t have to have everything figured out today,” he adds, his thumb gently tracing soothing patterns over your skin. “But I’ll be here, however long it takes.”

Boothill

Boothill isn’t the type to hover, but he knows when someone’s hurting—he’s been there too many times himself. His heavy boots clunk against the floor as he approaches you, sitting down beside you in a quiet, solid presence.

“Life’s got a way of takin' pieces outta you,” he says, voice gravelly. “But you don’t gotta do this alone, partner.”

You look away, unsure of how to respond, but Boothill doesn’t push. Instead, he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. It’s a gesture so simple, yet so grounding. You can feel his steady heartbeat, his unwavering support.

“You’re tougher than you think,” he continues, his voice softer now, “but even the toughest folks need a hand sometimes. Ain’t no shame in leanin’ on someone.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself lean on him, just a little. Boothill’s grip tightens ever so slightly, and he lets out a quiet sigh, as if holding the weight of the world alongside you.

“We’ll get through this, partner,” he murmurs, “one step at a time.”

Boothill isn’t one for long speeches, but the sincerity in his voice is more than enough. You feel the warmth of his presence, the understanding in his quiet demeanor, and for a moment, the weight you’ve been carrying doesn’t feel so heavy.

And with that, you know you’re not alone.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #rollo x reader #rollo flamme x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #welt x reader #boothill x reader #dr ratio x reader #ratio x reader #tw: sh mention

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leejenowrld · 2 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 !!!!

hi loves, i found these videos on pinterest and couldn’t stop thinking about back to you jeno and y/n—each one felt like a stolen glimpse into their world. i’ve attached them with links and added a little description of what i think they’d be doing in each moment. they’re all things they’ve definitely done—some soft, most of them messy, sexual, intimate. things you weren’t meant to see, but things they can’t stop doing to each other. hope u enjoy baby’s <3

→ like what you see? give my fic — ‘back to you’ a read. the couple here are meant to represent the ‘back to you’ couple.

→ warning — smut

→ see all ten links below the cut!!

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄

you’re smug from beating him at every game—he’s gripping your ass, whispering “let’s see if you still win with my cock inside you.”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐓𝐖𝐎

you’re overwhelmed—mind racing, body tense, eyes wet—so he pulls you onto his lap, buries his cock deep inside you, wraps his arms around your waist and whispers, “shh, i’ve got you. just stay right here. let me keep you calm.”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

you sit at the piano in a backless white dress, hair pinned high, fingers moving soft and slow—and jeno watches from the doorway, cock hard in his sweats, jaw tight as he whispers, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

you’re still in your dress, he’s still in his half-unbuttoned shirt when he pulls you into his lap—hands roaming, mouths kissing slow, your hips grinding against the thick bulge in his pants as he whispers, “keep moving just like that, baby…”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

sweat clings to your skin post-workout, his hands on your hips as he presses you against the mirror in the empty gym—cock hard in his shorts, breath hot in your ear when he mutters, “bend over the bench. now.”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐗

he lifts you like you weigh nothing, arms locked around your thighs as you cling to his shoulders—your dress riding up, his cock hard between you, mouths crashing together as he breathes, “been wanting you like this all fucking day.”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

he lifts you up against the windowsill, hands gripping your waist over your jeans, your ass pressed to his chest as you reach for the cat—his eyes locked on you, not the view, jaw tense like he’s seconds from unbuttoning you right there.

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

he’s trying to work, jaw clenched by his desk—but you’re in his lap, fingers tracing lazy circles near his cock, your voice soft in his ear as he shifts beneath you, cock hard and aching while he growls, “baby, you’re not gonna let me finish a single thing, are you?”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

you send him a clip in a tight black two-piece—long skirt hugging your hips, short top riding just above your belly button as you dance slow, teasing, knowing he’s watching with his cock already hard, fists clenched, whispering “wait until i get my hands on you.”

𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐍

late night in a city that isn’t home, lights glowing soft and far below—when you joke you’re too tired to walk, he throws you over his shoulder effortlessly, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slapping your ass as he strolls with a grin, “my girl doesn’t get to walk when she’s mine to fuck later.”

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reneki · 1 month ago

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You Remembered First

Igris x Reader

Reincarnation, forbidden love, memory awakenings, soft yearning, knight x princess

Warnings: emotional intimacy, memory triggers, heavy yearning, soft romantic tension

Authors note; This fic is soft, shadowy, and 100% fueled by my love for loyal knights. Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you stepped foot in the Shadow Castle, something inside you cracked.

Not broke…cracked.

Like stone giving way beneath years of pressure.

You told yourself it was just the mana in the air. The eeriness of the shadows. The distant pull of death magic woven into every wall.

But then you saw him.

And everything inside you went quiet.

Igris.

The knight in crimson. Sword in hand. Silent as ever.

The others bowed when Jinwoo passed. Igris didn’t move—but his eyes landed on you. And something inside you shifted like the sound of a forgotten melody.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But he followed you with his gaze long after the others turned away.

It took days before you were alone in the throne room.

Jinwoo had gone to handle a gate. Beru had scuttled off after him. The castle was empty, but you weren’t alone.

He stood in the center of the room, unmoving. The empty black throne towered behind him like a ghost of a crown that never found its king.

You stepped in slowly.

“I know this sounds insane,” you said softly. “But I feel like I’ve been here before.”

Still silence.

Your eyes scanned the room. The banners. The shattered sword by the staircase. The window of crimson glass that painted the floor in blood-red light.

“I knew it even before I met you. But the second I saw you… it hit harder.”

His head tilted.

You walked closer. “I’ve been dreaming about you. For weeks. A knight in red. Always standing between me and danger. Never speaking. Just watching. Always watching.”

He lowered his sword slowly, resting the tip against the floor.

“I think I was someone else once,” you whispered. “And I think you were someone to me.”

A flicker of red passed through his eyes. You weren’t imagining it. You saw it—that sliver of emotion behind a thousand years of silence.

“I don’t know what you remember,” you said. “But I know what I felt the first time you looked at me.”

You were standing right in front of him now. The height difference was still there. The armor still imposing. But his presence wasn’t suffocating it was grounding.

“You remembered first,” you said quietly. “Didn’t you?”

He moved, slow and deliberate one hand rising, armor clinking faintly, until his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your cheek.

He paused there.

You closed your eyes.

And then like a wave breaking you remembered.

The palace of gold. The embroidered red of your gown. The secret corridor where he would stand after nightfall, just to see you from afar.

The way he always knelt when spoken to.

The way he never touched you.

Until that final night when the kingdom fell and you ran to him, sobbing, your crown cracked, your lips whispering the words that had been forbidden.

“I love you.”

You opened your eyes.

“Igris,” you whispered.

His hand trembled.

You reached for it and held it between your own. Cold armor. Familiar weight.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked.

He lowered his head. Still no words.

But then—slowly—he sank to one knee before you.

Just like he used to.

You let your hand rest against the side of his helmet, fingers curling along the curve of steel.

“You waited this long,” you whispered. “But I’m here now. I came back.”

His free hand rose again hesitating. Then he pressed it over your heart, right where your old royal crest would’ve rested on your chest.

You felt it again that heat in your bones. That quiet sense of home.

“I remember you,” you whispered. “I remember us.”

And finally after lifetimes of silence he moved.

He stood. Slowly. Deliberately. Still careful. Still reverent.

But this time, he didn’t kneel again.

Instead, he leaned in.

His forehead pressed lightly against yours—armor cold, mana buzzing beneath his skin. No words. Just closeness. Just history.

His lips didn’t quite meet yours.

Not yet.

He was still waiting for permission.

You gave it.

Your hand slid up to his jaw barely brushing the edge of his cheek beneath the helmet.

And then you leaned in and kissed him first.

It was soft. Careful. A meeting of something ancient. And for the first time in centuries, the throne room wasn’t filled with silence—

—but with something sacred.

Something remembered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, if you felt something, Igris did too. Let me know if you want more of their story.

#solo leveling #solo leveling igris #igris the bloodred #igris x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #shadow soldiers

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stargrltara · 19 days ago

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Kinda Outa Luck III

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song "Kinda Outa Luck by lana del rey. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩. Reader is kinda inspired by catwoman in the batman, she works in a club, and on the low she's gothams most wanted female thief. She is gorgeous, and she uses it to her advantage. Oh, did I mention she has a thing for the Red Hood? And, honesty, he does too, though he is pretty shit at hiding it. PT 1 PT 2 PT 3

warnings: 18+ MDNI,

a/n: hey cuties!!! i cant apologise enough for how long i’ve spent doing this, DAMN. but heres the long awaited part 3!! lmk if u enjoy my fics bc i’ll definitely write more in the future! xox

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“ 𝒊 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊’𝒎 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌. „

Each day blended into another after that night. It felt as if your own soul melted from your skin and body, but you were still conscious in the empty pit of your mind. Of course, you were still making drinks, talking to your friends and your boss like normal, but behind your melancholic eyes is a forbidden abyss; impossible for you to crawl out of.

You were so drawn to the electric feeling that scraped through your limbs that night; the sounds of your lewd moans and his gruff pants and grunts. Even the familiar sound of rain trickling onto the glass windows still shoots memories back into your mind. Every word he uttered sounded perfect in that moment, no matter if it was complete bullshit. The slam of the door behind him when he left scarred a burn in your soul.

Although, he left your apartment like it was nothing. And the night after, you found yourself rushing around the city, watching his every move. Every punch and hit he took and gave. Every criminal he stopped, every person he put a bullet in. This was the man you fucked.

You were finally coming to terms with the actions you performed that night; finally accepting that you had hot, sweaty sex with the infamous Red Hood.

You were finally coming to terms with the fact how it would never happen again, and it was a one time thing. He’s clearly got something up with him, the way he just strutted out of your apartment after he just finished inside of you.

That was until you heard the thudding of boots entering the lounge, gasps and light chatters echoing in the room and your eyes glaring up, wondering who it is.

Your lips parted in disbelief when you saw Red Hoods tall, muscular figure glance over the bar, his crimson mask boreing into your bewildered features. And suddenly, you felt a slight sensation pool into your lower stomach, an unknown emotion. You unhand the glass you were cleaning, plopping the hand towel on the wooden countertop before making your way to him, noticing the way he’s just staring at you, almost as if he’s trying to work out a puzzle, or a riddle.

“Anything I can get ‘ya—?” your voice was breathy, but your tone was stern, almost too nonchalant as if the known vigilante isn’t standing before you. He cut you off quickly, “Know where Oz is?” He shifted in his position, arms now folded over his chest which revealed his broad shoulders and highlighted his biceps.

You thought for a moment at how he just cut you off, clearly in a rush for some odd reason you’re not even sure you want to know; a low hum escaping your lips. “He’s not here today.”

Penguin wasn’t here for the whole week actually, apparently some business he had to handle elsewhere, he cut out all the gorey details before drowning you in the responsibility to handle his lounge while he’s gone, along with a few of his other close assistants.

“Where is he?” The man grunted impatiently, a low grumble erupting from his throat and seeping from his helmet. You sighed, not wanting to tell him much as you don’t wanna piss off Penguin for spreading confidential information.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth before shrugging bluntly. “He’ll be back in a few days.” You reached for the hand towel and continued where you left off and focused on drying the glass, trying to act as unbothered as you can, though your furrowed brows and narrowed eyes betrayed you. “Left me and some others to manage it in the meantime.” you muttered lowly, and you heard his abrupt scoff.

“..Oz left.. you in charge?” his brows raised in disbelief, and though you couldn’t see it, you could tell he was shocked by the fact how The Penguin left you in charge of his Lounge for a few days, as if you couldn’t run it, as if you were undermined and deemed weak.

You scoffed back at him, mimicking his own move before glancing back up at him slowly, eyes raking leisurely over his body and then back up at his helmet. “Got a problem with that?” you questioned, clearly taken offence at his passive aggressive tone.

You could feel his stare into you, and a rough snicker emerged from his throat. His head shook, “No.” he said bluntly, but you could tell he was biting back his tongue. You hummed in satisfaction before he spoke again. “You’re just ‘gonna tell me instead.” his head jerked towards upstairs, gesturing Penguins Office; your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You abandoned the drink you were fixing up and the two of you made your way to Penguins office. He carefully shut the door behind you, and you leaned against the desk filled with stacks of paperwork, some cash and a glass of whiskey left behind.

“So are you gonna tell me what this is about?” your eyes rolled, trying to act as cold as possible, though the heated patch in your chest was growing hotter and hotter by the second.

He inched closer to you, each step thudding, mirroring the exact way it thudded the night he left you in your apartment. “Tell me everything you know about his caches.” he ordered, voice rough and rigid.

“..and why would I tell you that?” your head tilted, almost challenging his authority. “You know that ‘info is classified.” you crossed your arms over your chest, still leaning against the desk.

Red hood creeped closer and closer, until you could almost feel his chest on yours, as your eyes raked along his helmet, head folded up at his tall figure as silence echoed the atmosphere. You couldn’t deny the burn flowing under your skin at the familiar proximity of his body before you.

“I’m not asking, doll.” his voice was ragged, and almost a warning. You knew he would leave until he got what he wants, but you also knew Penguin would fire your ass if he knew you told Red Hood anything about his upcoming illegal activities.

You bit the inside of your cheek which was helping to refrain something you’ll regret escaping your lips. But he noticed, and he huffed in annoyance at your stubbornness and grabbing your chin and making you lock eyes with him, his fingers gripping your skin harshly.

You winced before your hands flew up to his chest, attempting to push away the muscular frame as you finally opened your mouth. “—Fine! fine..god..” you kept shoving at his chest, before he finally let go of your chin.

A sigh left your lips. “It’s tonight..” your muttered reluctantly, eyes falling from his to the ground in defeat. “Where?” he straightened his back, listening to your every word, but that also meant his body loomed over you like a tower, raking his shadow along you.

“Downtown..by the docks.” you huffed, still stubborn and pissed at your obvious defeat, knowing you could probably break free but you don’t wanna reveal your strength too soon. “..but all of Penguins goons will be there guarding the place.” you snorted, undermining his strength. “You don’t stand a chance.”

Red hood was silent until a low scoff left his helmet as you underestimate him. “We’ll see about that.”

His grip loosened on your cheek, and you rubbed the reddening marks softly, soothing the pain. He turned around, boots thudding as he left, door slamming shut mimicking the same night he left your apartment. You sucked in a shakey breath, cant deny you were a little intimidated, but also felt a small spark between you two. Did he feel it too?

You were left there in that room flustered, and then you realised. You really want him back. So, a little danger can’t hurt, can it?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

“ babe you can see that i’m danger,

glamorous but i’m deranged, yeah,

teetering off of the stage, yeah „

It was probably a bad idea, but what could go wrong? You just wanted some fun, life was getting tedious without something or someone to play with. And you cant deny Red Hoods sexiness.

Once again, you peeled on your black suit, the material clinging to your curves so perfectly. After putting on your mask and hood over your head, you climbed out of your window, rain trickling down onto your back as you melted in the cool atmosphere.

You made your way to the docks, and you peered over at the sight from a building, examining the setting and waiting for Red Hood to make his appearance. You were starting to lose your patience when heard the interference, and that was your cue.

You leaped down, crawling behind a crate as he swiftly took down multiple goons so effortlessly. You scoffed under your breath as you leaned crawled into the now opened cache while he was distracted, and took as much money as you could stuff in such a compact bag hurriedly.

“In a rush?” his voice echoed through your ears as he stomped his boot on one last thug, making his way closer to you and you bit the inside of your cheek before turning around.

“..you here to stop me?” you raised your hands defensively as you asked through a hum. Even though you planned to get caught, you couldn’t help but allow goosebumps to raise on your arms in anticipation and desire.

He chuckled dryly, arms crossed in-front of you and you could make out how his forearms spilled out of his tight shirts. It was almost alluring. “Just curious on what you’re gonna do with all that money. ”

A playful smirk creeped onto your lips, and you walked up close to him, so close you could feel his body heat radiating yours. Your hands came up to rest in his chest, and slid up to his neck as your heart was beating out of your chest in adrenaline.

“You never kissed me goodbye.” you muttered lowly, leaning up on your tip-toes to glare at him. He was praying that you couldn’t hear the way his heart was beating, the way his breath hitched at every word you spoke.

“..about that,” he huffed roughly, though there was an unknown edge to it. “That was a mistake, ‘m not usually one for one-night stands.” His hands reached down to your wrists, pulling them down from him and your eyes narrowed in disappointment.

“—but,” you stammered, watching him as he began to move away from you. “Oh, come on.” you blurted out, eyes hazey as you watch his every movement. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” your tone was nearly a purr, low and teasing. A small hum rose from his mask.

“I never said that.” he stopped in his tracks before admitting, still facing away from you.

“Exactly.”

“Don’t act all smug now, doll.” your hand was on your hip as you watched him stand still in his spot, head tilted slightly at you.

You both were silent for a bit before you walked up to him and placed your hands on his chest, riding them up around his neck right below his red mask. “Still wish you would ‘just take off this pretty thing, hm?”

He shook his head, scoffing at your persistence to see his true identity. “You won’t be impressed.” his hands reached in his pockets as he grabbed the remote of a device. Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he backed up a little from you. “Might wanna stand back for this one.”

“Huh—?” you muttered before the cache blew up. And then you chuckled at all the money being destroyed before you turned back to him, although he disappeared. Like. Always..

You were about to leave before you heard some of penguins thugs shouting, “There ! Get her—!” your eyes widened as you tried to find a way to escape, but it was too late. Some big guy knocked you out cold on the ground, and your eyes fluttered closed.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

“ 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒚, 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒓? ,,

Your eyes began to flutter open and adjust to the dimly lit room you were in. You were restrained; wrists tied together around the back of the wooden chair you were seated on. Your eyes narrowed in annoyance at the sight, how could you let yourself get caught?

You grunted, attempting to break free at your tied hands, but then you noticed Penguins thugs surrounding you. Their murmurs were annoyingly loud, talking about you as if you weren’t there. Thankfully, they hadn’t taken off your mask yet, if they did, you’d be truly fucked and jobless.

“Look, boys—“ you sighed, adjusting your hips in your seat as the murmurs silenced, “Let me go. — or we ’gna do this the hard way?” You’d raise your hands in defence if it wasn’t for the restraints, it only pulled at your wrists earning another light grunt from you.

What was worse is that you recognised some of these guys from the bar; especially the leader who just scoffed at you, shaking his head. “Not till you tell us what the fuck you were doin’ messin with Penguins cache.” his rough voice echoed through the walls and the thick air.

“That wasn’t even me—!” you snapped, eyes widening. He inched closer, pulling out a pocket knife and pushing it up to your throat, the cold metal lingering against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “Listen, lady. We ain’t playin’ games here.” He spoke again, voice laced with spite. “So unless you wanna live to see Gothams lights shining again tomorrow, you ought’a tell us.”

You rolled your eyes, honestly getting a bit bored of this, you didn’t really have a plan, but you were planning to go with the flow. “I told you already, ass hole.” you groaned, before slamming your forehead against his nose, he staggered back with a painful groan into the other thugs, grasping onto his nose now gushing with blood.

Another thug turned to you and kneeled down to your height on the chair, “Oh.. You’re gonna regret that, bitch.” and his hand came to wrap around your throat. Your eyes widened, and taking caution your legs lifted up, wrapping around his neck before snapping it with ease.

The other thugs stood in shock, and you took the opportunity to quickly stand up, chair still attached to you before you whipped your body round, slamming the wooden chair against one of their bodies before it broke and you pulled the ties, your hands breaking free.

You beat up all of the thugs, knocking them out. You had your boots heel on one guys neck, waiting for him to pass out before your ears picked up a sound in the distance. Your head turned round, and you were hit hard, a force which knocked you only the ground with a thud.

You could feel blood trickling down from your brow, and you muttered ‘fuck.’ You tried to stay conscious, really, but it was hard as the figure lingered over your splayed out state, glaring at you. “Not— cool, man..” you slurred lowly, before you passed out.

Though, you could slightly hear a cacophony of chaos happening. Some swearing, some punches and some knives. But one noise in particular made your eyes shoot open. A gun shot.

You gasped at the sight, the thugs were all shot. Your vision was spotty and a haze, you couldn’t really see much though you could definitely decipher what was said to you. “Looks like I’m late to the party.” a familiar voice ricocheted across your ear canals, his cold but slightly smug tone making you scoff lightly.

“You.. weren’t invited.” you muttered, wincing as you tried to sit up, his colossal hands wrapped around your waist, helping you up, and you fell limp into his chest, body aching. He stood straight, not sure on what to do, but then you felt his gloved-palm creep up to your head, pushing it into his chest in an embrace.

You glared up at him through lidded eyes, still a haze. The crimson mask blinded your eyes, helmet glimmering in the dimmed lighting, still shining in the shadows. “What? No thank you for saving you?” he stared back at you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, they were softening behind the helmet.

“I didn’t need saving..” you muttered, knowing you had it under control.. for a bit. Though, you still didn’t need a man to save you, you’re fully capable and independent. He chuckled roughly under his mask, and the sound echoed through your mind, sending waves of an unknown emotion in your stomach.

He picked you up, hands wrapping around your body to carry you out of the scene. Before you knew it, you were placed on the back of his motorcycle, and you didn’t even realise but your hands subconsciously wrapped around his waist, craving that sense of protection.

He drove you to his base. Fortunately, by now you were pretty much awoken, and back to reality. You followed behind him as he entered through the doors, and your eyes wandered around the place. It was nice, cozy. “..cmon let’s patch up those wounds.” he sighed, placing his keys on the counter before you jumped up onto the kitchen counter opposite him, watching as he opened the cabinets looking for some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads.

You waited, swallowing hard as he turned around, now facing you as he inched closer, positioning himself between your thighs. You both couldn’t deny the tension, it was still strong, still clinging onto the air. Every time he got closer, sparks of electricity from the night before come back, and you find yourself shifting in your seat, trying to hide your growing arousal.

He brought the cotton pad up to your forehead, dabbing the rubbing alcohol against your cuts. You winced at the stinging, and moved your head slightly which resulted in him grabbing your chin with his free hand, holding it in place. “Don’t move.”

“Fine— god.” you muttered low, scoffing at how cold and blunt he is. “How’d this even happen, huh?” he continued with the task a hand, patching your cuts on your forehead before throwing the used cotton pad into the bin and lowering his gaze down your body, checking for any other injuries.

“It’s your fault.” You stated in annoyance, “—they thought I blew up that cache.” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as he glared at you intensely, scoffing through his helmet. “You were there.” he shrugged, mimicking you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“So? .. anyway— I had them, you didn’t need to come to my rescue.” you rolled your eyes, and he just shook his head at your attitude. “You gotta be a bit more grateful.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, before you spat, “ and you gotta learn to not leave a girl hanging.” he growled when you mentioned the night again, before he pressed up against you, impossibly close to the point you felt his body heat, and the undeniable bulge growing in his pants that rubbed against your clothed groin.

“Look, I had a lot goin’ on— I didn’t mean to hurt you, really.” his tone was sincere but laced with something else, need? desire? his pitch low, rough. The truth was, he didn’t know what to do. Afraid you might’ve saw his identity, how scarred he is outside and inside. He didn’t want to hurt you by staying and leading you on but leaving meant hurting you more.

You glared down, avoiding eye contact as you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s.. fine.” You wanted to say more, wanted to tell him about that burning desire that still pools in your stomach even at the sound of his voice, but you bit back your tongue.

“It’s not..” he admitted lowly, his gaze also faltering as he looked down before his hands came up to his helmet, and you heard a heavy thudding to the ground. You were too afraid to look up, too afraid to see what might be under the mask, good or bad. But his fingertips came to your chin, lifting your gaze to take in the sight of him.

Your lips parted in shock, confusion, arousal, deep unknown emotions. He was ethereal, his gun-metal, heavy lidded with yearn eyes glistening in the light and locked onto yours. his messy hair from the helmet jet black and tickling his forehead slightly; pink lips wettened by his tongue and a nose which looks like it was carved by a greek god himself.

He stared at you intensely, searching for any signs of fear or disgust, but he couldn’t find any, instead he noticed the way your eyes darkened with the same look you gave him that very night. His glare twinkled between your eyes and your lips, and your hand came up to cup his face.

“—now, why would you hide your beauty from me?” you cooed, soft palm resting on his rough skin which contrasted with the way his heart melted under your touch. “..i’m scarred.. and unfixable..” he whispered, eyes closing softly as he leaned into your hand.

You shook your head, other hand now coming to cup either side of his face as you pulled his face closer to yours. “You’re perfect.” you said without hesitation, noticing the way his eyes softened and the way he was completely allured in your touch. It was different, but you weren’t complaining. Having the Red Hood like this, at your mercy was actually quite heartwarming nonetheless.

You both felt it, the electricity pulling you two together. He leaned into you, flush against your chest as your legs wrapped around his waist, and his lips collapsed onto yours.

Although he was at your mercy, he still devoured your lips. His tongue slipped into your mouth, gliding against your and capturing each others saliva. It started off slow, but gradually became more rough, and filthy as his hands snaked up your torso, gripping the flesh through your suit firmly, as if he’d never were to let go.

Your fingers grazed up his neck, tangling in the wavy, jet-black locks and tugging lightly resulting in the most desperate moan you’ve ever heard him let out. He deepens the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, hand sliding down to your hips and that’s when you realise the growing bulge that’s prodding at your heat; you take the opportunity to grind against it teasingly, and Jason moans again, slightly reluctant of surrendering to you.

You pull away, though Jason’s taken aback by the sudden stop, his eyes open back up and glare into yours. His emerald orbs yearning, his drooping with need and hunger.

You reach for your domino mask, beggining to take it off since he took off his but his hand comes to your wrist, stopping you. “what..?” your brows furrow in confusion before he chuckled dry and gruffed. “..You think I don’t know who you are? I knew since the day we fucked, since then you’re all I could think about..” he trailed off, eyes fluttering closed at the confession, though he carried on.

“..still cant get your fucking scent off my suit,,” his voice was low, a hint of annoyance at the statement but then his voice turns into a soft, needy whimper, “—don’t wanna get your scent off my suit..”

Your breath hitched, and your fingers stopped gliding through his locks as you were in complete shock at his confession. How he knew this whole time who you were, how he was afraid to tell you.

You were stunned, “I don’t know what to say..” his hand came up to your chin, holding it up to look at him and he groaned softly, “I just— I need you..” he rocked his hips against yours to prove how much he needed you, and you gasped when you felt his solid buldge hitting against your core, the feeling sending shivers of arousal down your spine, and slick to coat in your panties.

You knew you had the upper hand, and you felt a wave of dominance rush through you as you grabbed his face, fingers brushing over his lips before dipping them into his mouth. His eyes widened at your bold move, but soon they were shut as he took them in his mouth.

Jason's breath hitches at the feel of your fingers in his mouth, his mind spinning as he loses all control and self restraint, a small moan slipping out from between his lips. “So good for me..” you purred, lips forming into a small smirk.

He lets out another rough moan, his hands coming up, grabbing your wrist, his warm fingers curling around it, pulling your hand in deeper, taking your fingers deeper into his mouth, his mind going blank; his tongue wrapping around them, sucking softly, his mind and body completely at your mercy.

You abruptly pull your fingers out of his mouth, and he whines at the empty feeling. You instead find your fingers raking through his hair,, and then pulling tightly for him to come down to your mouth level before whispering in his ear, “—let’s take this to the bedroom, sugar.”

He waisted no time hoisting you up onto him, carrying you with one hand supporting your ass and the other around your back as he entered the bedroom. He laid you down on the mattress, but before he could get on as well you pulled him by his shirt onto it, crawling on top of him confidently and straddling his lower abdomen.

He looked up at you in pure awe at your beauty, at your fierceness and at the way you looked down at him with a mischievous grin. You take fingertips along shirt-clad biceps, raking along the fabric and glaring at him through doe eyes.

“You gonna tell me what you want?” you raised a brow, leaning in and laying opened mouth kisses along the skin of his neck. He shuddered at the feeling, your soft lips now biting down creating maroon marks to wake at the surface.

“I want—“ he stammered, chest heaving uncontrollably, “I want you..” he groaned, his cock now pulsating with need of release. You hummed, but then shook your head as you leaned back up to glare at him.

“..where do you want me?” your hands came up to run down his chest, and back up again before tugging firmly on the material. “I want you everywhere..” he breathed, struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of your hands on his chest, body tensing up.

You pulled his shirt up and he helped you get it off of him, now he laid under you bare chested, and you could properly see the way his muscles curved. Every scar, every dip and line on his skin was now revealed to you and you bathed in the beauty of it all.

You immediately leaned in, wet kisses planted all over his chest and stomach. You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to mark him, you needed to mark the Red Hood, to make him yours. “Ahh..” he moaned at your touch, eyes shutting as he needed more, “..please..”

You hummed, tilting your head as a way of asking, ‘what?’ and he just whimpered softly, “Need more..” so you complied, and began to grind hard against him, and his head flew back against the pillows, letting out a sharp gasp whilst his body arched up against yours.

His mind went blank as he grabbed onto your hips, fingers gripping hard, his breath ragged and uneven as he tries to regain control, his teeth gritted together, trying to hold in another moan that pleads to escape his lips. "Oh..god...please" He begged so beautifully, his voice low and rough, the desire coursing through his entire body.

Your hands grab onto his that rest on your hips, and pull them off of you , interlocking your fingers before pinning his hands on either side of his head.

You must admit, having him pinned here like this, under your submission, aching for you is quite ironic knowing that he can easily flip you over and take you, he’s twice your size and strength, though it’s amusing seeing him like this all pathetic, starving for touch. “..let’s not get ahead of ourselves, honey.” You whisper into his ear, hot breath fanning his skin. He nods, humming a small sound before you chuckle, “..now tell me where you want me, again.”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, he finds his mind a haze, this feeling foreign to him. “Where..?” you repeat teasingly before licking a long stripe from his jaw to his throat, a slick trail of your saliva glistening through the moonlit reflection. He lets out a groan at the feeling, wanting to pull you off of him and flip you over, wanting to show you who’s boss, show you who’s stronger, but he couldn’t, he felt under your submission.

“..was it here..? You then move down moving up to where you have his hands pinned and nibble on the skin of his muscles, before kissing the reddening mark. “—or here..” you giggle slyly, knowing how pent up you’re making him before giving one hard grind against him.

His eyes closed at the wave of pleasure that rushed through him, and he begged again, this time more rough, more demanding, “Please— stop teasing me,” and you just smirked, bottom lip coming between your teeth. “..because you asked so nicely.” you trailed off, sitting back on his lower abdomen, now staring at his state. He looks fucking gorgeous, could genuinely devour him right there right then.

His hair a mess, beads of sweat collecting near his eyebrows and gunmetal blue eyes now hooded with need and desire. You peel off your top, and Jason relishes in the sight, savouring every moment as you then throw the shirt into the abyss of his bedroom floor.

Jason’s body tense with anticipation, his eyes drinking in your every movement, his breathing ragged and uneven. His eyes move across the exposed skin, your laced-lingerie that he just wanted to rip off, the way your nipples pebbled under your bra.

His body reacting almost automatically, his hands reaching up, wanting to touch you, to pull you to him, to feel your body against his. He pulls your bra down, hands coming to unclasp it as quick as possible as he almost moans at the sight of your breasts, all perky and on display for him.

He leans in, taking the bud into his mouth before swirling his hot tongue around your nipple, over hand coming up to palm at your other breast, your body warmth radiating off of each other. He groans against your skin, vibrations attacking you, when his nose is corrupted with your natural aroma.

Your eyes shut at the feeling, your hips slowly moving at a rhythm against his. He pulls away from your breast with a pop, before moving to the other one, thumb rolling against the nipple as he watches it harden. “—fuck..” you gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure, it overcomes your senses, and you drown in the bliss.

He pulls away again, leaving you in a quivering mess as he moves you slightly to take off his pants, along with his boxers. You sit between his thighs as you watch his cock spring free, the sight heavenly.

Seeing it this time was different, last time it was mere features that happened to show in the dimmed lighting, this time you could see it perfectly. The thickness, long length and slight curve, two veins which ran down the sides and the twitching, flushed mushroom tip leaking with pre-cum. He looked like he was carved by a greek-god himself.

You needed to taste him, to taste his seed. You wanted to feel him in your throat, and he wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of your lips wrapped around his length.

Your lips part as he looks down at you with desperation; then your palms come down to his thighs, before you leaned in, kissing the tip of his dick too softly, too sweetly. He groaned in pleasure at the feeling, but he needed more. His hands came to your hair, tangling in the locks before forming a ponytail and without warning, shoving your throat into his cock to end the teasing.

He moaned, so beautifully; head thrown back onto the pillows whilst you sat between his thighs taking his thick cock. You took him so well, head bobbing up and down as he face fucked you, spit bubbling at the corner of your mouth and dripping onto the sides of his length, onto the sheets and his thighs.

Your hands removed their grip from his thighs but moved to where you couldn’t take all of him. Your hand wrapped around the bottom of his cock, pumping as your spit that dribbled down from your mouth was now lubricating the bottom of his cock.

“Shit.. ahh— ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum if you keep doing that,“ jason’s voice was strained, full of lust as his grip on your hair got tighter, and you started stroking rougher, eager to make him release all whilst hollowing your cheeks which made his legs tremble.

Though before he came, he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped for air, eyes rolling back as you came back to reality from the haze of his cock shoved down your throat. He sat up, pulling you up onto his lower abdomen as you tried to look at him through hooded eyes.

His fingers came up to your chin, tapping your face lightly, “—need to feel you,, need to feel my cock inside you.” he muttered low, and you nodded, a smirk growing on your lips before you leaned in, letting him taste your saliva.

He groaned into the kiss, hands coming to wrap around your hips. The slick in your panties now seeping through, and collecting on his stomach. You moved off of the kiss, before lowering onto his cock, pulling off your panties and throwing them onto the floor, as you took his cock inside of you.

Your hands placed on his chest, steadying you as you slowly took his thick cock. Every inch that went inside of you resulted in your mouth gaping open, the tip twitching in your walls as you took him fully; a guttural moan left his throat when he felt your pussy squeezing him up so tight, so possessive.

His precum and your juices mixing inside of you, and leaking down onto his thighs and onto his sheets. Your fingers grazed up his chest, manicured nails leaving light marks as they came up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair as you found the strength to bounce lightly, not too fast, you didn’t want to tire yourself out too quick.

Your mind quickly grew a blurred haze, unable to focus of anything but the growing arousal both of your pants and moans which filled the four walls. "—ah.." Jason breathed out, his grip on your hips tightening, bruising as you were sure it’d leave a mark in the morning.

Your pace grew faster, and his whimpers turned into primal groans, “..you’re so beautiful,” He found himself fucking up into you, hips slamming against yours as he adjusted you to his desired speed as he moved you back and forward on his cock. His digits dipping into your skin, “..all mine..” he was lost in the moment, muttering sweet nothings all whilst colouring your skin in unethically beautiful maroon marks.

Your mouth gawped open, and you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped your lips, “Red—“ , his hand came to your mouth, silencing your screams as he corrected you, “Jason.”

You nodded as his hand moved off of your mouth, fingers dancing over your lips as you whimpered, “..Jason..” . Your lips purred his name so perfectly, so seductively as you looked like a goddess bouncing on his cock. Hooded eyes shutting, furrowed brows with sweat beading on your temple, relishing in the feeling of his cock inside of you, re-arranging your guts.

You felt your release approaching, along with his as his cock twitched inside of you. Your bounces faltered, beginning to get tired so he gripped onto you and fucked his cock up into your walls fast and hard, every thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs as your arms snaked around his neck; his pants and primal grunts growing louder as your gummy walls squeezed him, aching to come all over him.

The sounds grew filthier and slicker, and you were both close. The moon shimmering its hue onto his hooded eyes, deep with hunger and a hint of an unknown feeling.. love?

He was whimpering, moaning into your ear, breath fanning over your ear as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, lips brushing over his skin at every thrust. He was so aching for release, his thighs trembling, “..so close, baby.“, so eager to fuck his seed into you.before grinding so hard onto him, “—know you are too, can feel you squeezing me, i’m right here, honey— not going anywhere,” he muttered sweetly into your ear as you were gasping his name; you were seeing stars, literally.

“Jason—!!” A loud scream escaped your lips, and again, and again, you couldn’t stop saying his name, the way it rolled off of your tongue, it sounded all too natural, like you were made to be screaming his made with his cock stuffed in you.

His seed emptied inside of you whilst your cum spilled out of your cunt mixing with his. You were both panting, gasping for air and seeking the privilege of coming back to reality. He looked perfect a mess. Hair scruffy, tugged and stuck to his forehead, eyes darkened and breathing like an animal in heat. He grabbed the back of your head by your hair and shoved you into a filthy, sloppy kiss. It was passionate, each of you moaning into the kiss as your hands came to cup his cheeks whilst your saliva was leaking down his chin onto his chest.

You slowly moved off of him, the warmth of his cock now gone as you fell back against the mattress beside him, staring at the ceiling catching your breathe. You were still in shock about the whole situation, but now you’re literally lying in his bed.. naked.. whilst he’s next to you.

He’s reluctant about what to do, but then hand comes up to face, pushing a stray hair away from your face as he glared at you with puppy-dog eyes, like he’s been waiting for this his entire life.

“You’re perfect.” he chuckles softly whilst taking in your every feature, even when you’re lying here a fucked out mess, you still looked amazing, still looked like his perfect mess. Your lips cracked into a small smile at his words, heart melting at his soft touch.

He pulls you closer, and your head lays contently on his chest whilst you two simmer in the wave of silence, though it’s not awkward or uncomfortable, it’s quite tranquil, as you listen to his every breath, counting way his heart beats.

His fingers rake through your hair, scratching softy through the scalp as you grow tired whilst your heart flutters at the feeling. Your body relaxes at his touch, mind slowly feeling at ease as he keeps you close, his heart filled with a warm feeling that he almost doesn't recognise. You let out a soft sigh, his body melting against yours, the sound sounding more vulnerable than you would like to admit.

He chuckles while watching you relax under him, "You're making me soft." mutters gruffly and you giggle tiredly, innocently, “Uh, Oh, big bad Red Hood gotten soft?” your voice is low and muffled against his chest.

“Don’t start.” he warns playfully, though there’s also a relaxed tone to his voice too. You smile contentedly at how peaceful this moment is his usual gruff and tough exterior completely gone, replaced by the sight of a man who looks completely vulnerable and yet somehow, completely at peace. He continue to rock you softly and soothe you until you’re completely asleep, your soft breathing the only sound in the room.

୨♡୧

As the golden morning hue peaked through the blinds in beams of blaze, Jason’s eyes blinked open to be met by the sunrise. His heart melted, a smile creeping onto his lips as he took a glance at you in a peaceful slumber. Your hair slightly messy and lips parted, you shifted your position in your sleep while you began to awake as well.

Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took and you lifted it lightly to take a look at him. His fingertips came to your temple, brushing away the stray hairs as he gruffed, “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

You giggled softly before lifting your hands from around his waist to crawl ontop of his lap, kissing him on the forehead. His hands immediately gripped onto your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and you were soaked in his body heat. “Morning, handsome.” you purred, voice still sly and laced with tease which was surprising even at this time of morning.

“You still think this was a mistake?” you tilted your head, leaning in to plant another kiss, this time on his nose which resulted in his face to get all undeniably flustered. He shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his throat, “Never. I don’t regret a thing.”

You smirked, “—not gonna get up ‘nd leave like last time?” you teased, the memories of that night still rushing through you. He just scoffed at how you thought so low of him, even now; emerald eyes rolling sarcastically.

“Well— maybe,” he shrugged, a bit too nonchalantly and your brows furrowed as he got up from the bed, now towering over your confused figure. “..to shower.” he raised a brow, and you sighed in relief but then a small giggle escaped your lips when he held his hand out like a gentleman. “—care to join me, m’lady?”

You nodded eagerly, jumping from the bed as he hoisted you up into his arms, your legs immediately wrapping around him as his lips smashed onto yours in a passionate, gentle kiss. Your hands rushed up to cup his face, and as you pulled away from his lips, you gave him a smitten grin, “It would be my honour, baby.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

a/n II: I’d like to thank everyone for all the support i got during making this series. I’m also so so so sorry for how long it’s taken me, i hope this makes up for it. Please tell me if you enjoyed it, it means a lot and i’ll be sure to make more fics like these in the future. I’m also happy to make part 4, it might not follow the same song but i’d could just be little blurbs or head cannons that reader and jason do in this universe! <3

tags: @1abi @vrtualknife @callmeash @dollishmehrayan @marveljedimaniac

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wordsofwhimsy · 2 months ago

Text

𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚎𝚜 & 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎 - 𝙿𝚝. 𝟷

【ａ／ｎ】： I had to write some soft stuff for my guy after making him a dominating sex master in the last few fics. Especially in light of the most recent episode – he really is just a big softie 🥹❤️ Also songs give me a lot of inspiration, if formatting fanfics this way is lame tho please let me know! ALSO also I don’t remember exactly what happened after Mark’s fight with his dad so don’t come for me about any and all inaccuracies.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】： Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＧＥＮＲＥ】：Tragedy & romance

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】： Mentions of blood & death [based on series lore]

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】： “Forrest Gump” by Frank Ocean

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ I know you, Forrest I know you wouldn't hurt a beetle But you're so buff and so strong ♪♫

You had never been a particularly emotional person, but seeing Mark that night broke your heart. You worked your usual shift at the Moonlight All Night Diner, clocking in a little before noon and staying until just past 8pm. It was a busy day at the restaurant, not really giving you a chance to check your phone until the end of your shift. As you pulled your phone from your apron pocket you overheard it be said on the news, “Hundreds suspected dead in the wake of the battle between Omni-Man and Invincible.”

“What a tragedy…” the cook Marlon murmured from the window behind you. You felt your blood run cold now noticing the seven missed calls from Mark.

“Oh my God.” The words came out of your mouth in a slur while you tore your serving book from your apron and tossed it next to the register. “Marlon, I need you to tell Stacy to finish my last table, I have to go.” You didn’t wait for a response and headed straight out the door to your car. The streets were all but empty, no doubt due to the catastrophe that had unfolded just earlier in the evening. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth you didn’t dwell on the thought of why and just remained grateful that you could get to Mark’s house in 10 minutes flat.

The lights all seemed to be off inside, and you contemplated knocking but the image of Debbie crying in the dark stopped you. She would need this time to process her feelings on her own, and you didn’t want to be an intruder in that moment. Instead, you opted to head straight for the backyard and found Mark sat on his roof, knees brought halfway to his chest and head hung low. He was still dressed in his suit, which was torn in countless places and so bloodied you could barely make out its true color pattern. Even from the distance you stood, his massive black eye was evident. The sight made you want to cry.

“Hey,” you said with no intention in elevating your voice. You were sure he knew you were there before you’d even rounded the corner. You waited a moment, and when he didn’t give a sign of acknowledgment you added, “I’m sorry I missed your calls…” Mark lifted his head to look down at you now.

“Don’t worry about it…” You clenched your jaw at his words, trying to swallow the hurt you felt at his immediate forgiveness. Even in his own torment he still was the sweetest guy you’d ever known.

“I’d love to join you up there.” He slid himself down to the roofs edge, as if he was just going to slip right off, but instead gingerly floated down to be right in front of you. His eyes were bloodshot, and the crimson across his cheeks had streaks running down to his chin. You didn’t want to imagine how hard his sobs had been, especially with the knowledge that he’d tried to reach you, but you weren’t there. Draping your arms around his shoulders and closing them around his neck, he held you back in a tight hug. You could feel the pain radiating from his body and all you could think was how badly you wished you could take it from him. You both stood there like that for an unmeasured amount of time, and as far as you were concerned it could have lasted on forever.

But eventually he squeezed you tighter, just for a second, and turned his face down to rub his eyes over your hair to try and hide his tears. You felt yourself lose footing as he drifted you both upward until you were back on his roof. Still, you didn’t let go of one another as he sat down and placed you into his lap, your body slightly angled to the side to fit comfortably between his muscled legs. “I am so sorry Mark.”

“I just don’t understand—it’s like my entire life has been a lie.” For the first time you considered the fact that you knew no details about what had transpired, or why. You didn’t even know if Mark’s father was still here. There was so much you needed to be filled in on, but at the same time didn’t think pressing him for answers was the best thing to do right then. He would tell you everything you needed to know when he was ready. “What if I hurt people…?” Still wrapped in an embrace you reached your hand up to cradle the back of his head.

“I know you, Mark. You would never intentionally hurt an innocent person. I mean hell, even the bad guys I think you take it too easy on.” He huffed through his nose in response, and it was unclear to you if that was in laughter or annoyance. “You are so strong, and I know that has to come with so much pressure and a sense of forced responsibility. But you’ve got to remember you literally just graduated high school, and still have so much left to learn and figure out in life!”

You pulled back from him now so you could see his face. His expression was… empty, broken. Your heart ached horribly in your chest. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No, not right now… Can we just lay down?” He asked, looking at through his lashes at you with vulnerable puppy eyes.

“Of course.” You leaned forward and kissed him softly, being very mindful of his fat busted lip. You could feel the smallest amount of tension release from his body, and you were grateful. You both stood up and crawled back in through his bedroom window before settling into his bed. Most nights Mark would assume the role of “big spoon” and curl himself behind you, and without thought tried to assume that position again. You stopped him though, and gently urged him to roll away from you as you molded yourself perfectly against his broad back. Your slender arm rested over the dip in his waist as you placed kisses between his shoulder blades. And although he made no noise, you could feel the way his body jumped slightly from his cries. All you could do was hold him tighter, until you both fell asleep.

♫♪ You run my mind, boy Running on my mind, boy ♪♫

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic

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amialunatic · 6 months ago

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Just trust me baby..

divider credits to @anitalenia

Based on anon request: would you be willing to write a sam fic about his first time between him and reader where she has scars from her time with a vamp nest (say she was taken a while back and that’s how she got into hunting) and she’s insecure and a little anxious with having his mouth on her body because of the way she was once treated but sam is very patient and understanding. basically just really sweet and sam is catering and talks her through it :,)

Warning: Light smut, Fingering, Sam Winchester/ Hunter!Reader, Fem!Reader, brief mention of readers time in vampire nest.

A/N: Omg my first actual fic. I'm quite stoked to be putting it out. Nervous too. I hope you all like it. I'm starting simple and soft core ig.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

“Hey, you awake?” Dean called from the driver’s seat. That jolted you from down the memory lane. They were returning from the hunt. It was rough. At least 10 vampires. 3 newly turned, innocent, and pain-stricken but unable to control themselves. You guys had to kill them all. Everyone sustained injuries. That was natural. You getting bitten was not. You tried your best to not get bitten as it brought back nightmares that lasted quite a while than you cared to admit.

Sharp teeth piercing you had been a routine for weeks. Until you were rescued by Bobby and the boys. They found you on the brink of death. Several weeks of hospitalization later, you were fit to hunt. You hunted alone, focused mostly on vampires. And sometimes with the boys if the targets were nests. Helping those trapped there brought you catharsis. You wanted to be the hunter you needed all those weeks. And you strived your best to be that.

As you got out of Impala to the motel you were staying, you realized how tired you were. Slumped shoulders and bitten forearms, you moved slowly to your room. In the background, you hear Dean invite Sam for a drink and he refuses. As soon as you enter the room, you get into the shower. Maybe warm water can block out the sensations, the fangs that haunt your mind when you close your eyes. It never has, but you always hope it does this time. As you get out, red from the shower, you hear a knock. Sam’s voice calls out “Hey, it’s me.”

You open the door to see him standing at the door frame all fidgety. “I didn’t think you’d be showering.” he looked unsure almost second guessing his decision.

“I was done.” You moved back as he let himself in. Awkwardly standing with his arms on the chair, brows furrowed he asks “You okay?”. “As ok as you’d be after ganking a bunch of vampires I guess” you tried to lighten the situation. But Sam was having none of that “ You got bitten”. “Yes Sam, vampires bite. That’s like their whole MO.” you poured sarcasm to derail the conversation. This enraged Sam. “Don’t downplay this” his voice raises.

Reaching your breaking point and seeing that Sam wouldn’t leave you without a confrontation, you spit out the truth “You wanna know? OK. I’m fucking tired and I’ll probably have nightmares for days." Your outburst continued as you paced the room in a dressing gown. "You wanna know how weak I am, how the thing that happened to me years ago still brings me to my knees? There you go”. These moments were always followed by tears for you. But he didn't have to know that. You move across to the window facing the half-empty parking lot and turn away, not wishing to humiliate yourself further.

You hear the shuffling of feet as you feel two large hands wrap around me. “Y/N..” his voice laced with sympathy and concern. You lean into his familiar hug, your back nestled against his chest, his warmth enveloping your core. “Sam. I..I don’t want you..guys to see me weak. I am not weak.” you sigh. Sam chuckles “Now that’s the dean-est sentiment I’ve heard you express.” you appreciated his efforts to cheer you up.

“Hey it’s not like you too to sit around and express your feelings” you counter.

He sighs “I know. Me and Dean. Not the greatest examples of sharing feelings. But..you can tell stuff to me. You know that right?” He continues. “Also I don’t think you’re weak at all. Infact you’re one of the most badass hunters for recovering and facing your fears.”

You look down with a grateful smile “Thanks Sam.” As you turn around to face him, you take in his face. His eyes look desperate. Like he is trying to convince you that he can be your safe place. That you needn’t be scared of being vulnerable. And you can’t help but place a kiss between his furrowing eyebrows. Those lines that form when he is worried. You wanted to stop those and let him convince you. To forget the pain and nightmares even for a moment.

“Kiss me”

He looked at you, slightly surprised. “Now? You sure?”.

They had made out before. But this felt different. Somehow more intense, somehow more desperate.

“Yeah Sam, kiss me. Now.”

He didn’t need more encouragement. He bend down, caught your face with his hands as he pressed his lips on to yours. Restrained strength flowed through his hands that he tried to keep in check while pure gentleness caressed your lips. He lifted you effortlessly so your faces were leveled as he continued kissing you, gently tugging your lower lip with his teeth drawing out sighs. You mindlessly tugged his flannel, wishing it’d disappear.

“Patience” He chuckles as placing you on the desk, your back against the wall. You hastily removed the buttons one by one while he untied the knot of your dressing gown in a nanosecond. Your freshly showered skin glistening with water drops stops him in his tracks. As he stares at your underwear-clad body mesmerized, he stops to notice the bite on your forearm, still fiery red, even with the ointment around it. Around your shoulder and neck were faint scars. He caresses the skin around the bite, careful not to cause you any pain. After gently running his fingers along the scars when he looks back to your eyes he only notices your fierce stare, bestowed on his eyes, his swollen lips, and his now visible body, muscular and oh so strong. How you wanted him to take you then and there.

Not wishing to drag it any longer, he starts kissing you again as you gently run your hands through the battle scarred abdomen of his. Moving down to trace a drop of water from your jaw to your neck, he presses gentle kisses coaxing you to lean back your head opening up your neck and chest in the process. He practically groans as he gently nibble across you neck connecting to your shoulder.

In a flash, you freeze and push him away. All of it happened so sudden, Sam stared at you one feet away, confused. In a moment of clarity, it dawned on him. He gently came close to you and tentatively caressed your sides. Your apologetic eyes said everything it needed to. He lifted your chin up to him.

“hey hey..baby. , it’s ok. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He looked at you concern etched in his forehead. When you remained silent he coaxed you “Baby, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just..I..was bitten..mouths on my body.” you shudder, visions running through the back of your eyes

“ Does it bring back memories?” He gently asks

“Sometimes, I just can’t block it. I want to Sam, believe me. I want this. I want you..so bad.” I look at him desperate.

“I know. But you know I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with right? We don’t have to do this at all”

“I want to. Sam. I need you.” you lock eyes with him, forehead burrowing

His eyes searched mine for any trace of hesitation. Seeing none, he reaffirms gently “Do you trust me, baby?” “I do” I whisper as I breath out.

“You can stop me whenever you need to.”

A corner of his lips curled revealing the deep dimple. “So no biting I guess?”

“Yeah, no biting.” You bit your lips slyly. “ Well not you anyway”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart” He nudge your lips again easing them apart. As the same time, his hands part your thighs as he stepped impossible close.

You feel his hands slipping the robe off you. Before long, his long fingers were moving closer to your core. His fingers slipped in to your panties and finding the wetness pooling, he groans. I met his gaze, my eyes a blend of desperation and embarrassment at being so affected by him. “Sam..”.

“I know baby” He looks at you for permission before plunging his finger in the wetness. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your fingers never managed to reach that deep. He ease it out. And again and again until you were a slobbering mess. To add to the torturous pleasure he lifts his palm so each thrust is paired with your clit being rubbed enough to cause friction but not enough to tip over. This was agony but delicious agony.

Sam looks into your convulsing face, his features radiating nothing but the desire to please you. To make you forget, to have a moment of pleasure, away from the darkness that consumes both of you. As you almost reach the height of pleasure, he adds in yet another finger. Through your hazily closed eyes, you don't see him kneeling. Suddenly you feel his warm mouth enveloping your clit. You gasp as your eyes flew open. “Sam..Sammy..” you say tentatively.

“Trust me baby..this will feel good” his voice is laced with soothing promise.

Before you can have further doubts, pleasure blankets you and drags you up to the height of it. As he sucks and laps gently, your hands involuntarily wander through his luscious locks. Finally with a cry and grasp of his hair, you tip over. His hands and lips soothe you through the fall with barely-there touches of your slit.

“oh god..that was..” you breathe heavily through your mouth as you struggle to push words out. Sam leans over and kiss you sloppily, with a goofy smile. “it’s cute to see you all thoughless and spent”

“Sam..you little jerk” you say in amidst panting.

“Hey remember I was the one making you moan my name a moment ago. Some gratitude” he smirks.

“And I’ll make you do the same, just you wait” you rope your hands through his neck pulling him.

"Is that a threat or a promise, honey? Either way, I'm all in." He interlocks his lips with yours, the deepening kiss tasting like an invitation for round two.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

MAybe there should be a second part! Idk. This felt long but not long enough at the same time. Please let me know if anyone would like a second part. I'll try to write one (meaning I'll probably stress over it and write it in 2 weeks)

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #jared padalecki #sam winchester fluff #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader

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ldydeath · 3 months ago

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Let's Make This Count | Kang Dae-ho

Summary: You've entered into Squid Game to help pay off some debts, not expecting your best friend, Daeho to be there. You both will do anything to proect each other, no matter the cost.

Warnings: Typical squid game stuff.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing Dae-ho. If you'd like to be tagged in future fics of his, please let me know.

Life has been hard lately, which is why when you’d been presented a chance at fixing at least one of those things, you’d jumped at the chance. You however, hadn’t been expecting this to be a game of death. You’d heard player 456’s cries to listen to him at the start of the game, but like everyone else you had ignored him. That was until that girl moved during red light, the chaos that had ensued after that had you praying to gods you didn’t believe in to keep yourself safe. You’d been in Squid Game for a few hours now and already had the blood of your competition splattered over you. You were definitely in over your head and needed to get out.

Thankfully, the pink suits had announced a vote and you prayed everyone would agree to send you home. You’d been standing for what felt like hours waiting for your number to be called, listening to play 456 plead with everyone to leave the games. He’d been here before so you were definitely going to take his advice. Once your number was called you made your way quickly to the front, voting to go home. You may have needed money, but you’d find another way. You weren’t going to die over some debt.

As you were putting your x badge on your jacket your eyes caught sight of a familiar, gorgeous face and your breath caught in your throat. No. He couldn’t be here. Why was he here? Daeho’s eyes met yours and his brows crinkled in confusion. You shook your head and made your way to your spot. There were too many people around to talk comfortably yet and you weren’t exactly sure it was safe to announce that you knew someone else in the games. That mother and son duo seemed to be the only exception to that rule, and you weren’t about to chance it. After play 001 voted, the pink soldiers announced that there would be another game in the morning, panic rising in your body.

Trying to act normal, you turned to head towards your bunk when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Don’t touch-“ you let out a breath, thankful you didn’t have to fight for your life when you came face to face with your best friend.

“What are you doing here?” He hissed, panic in his eyes. You shrugged out of his grip, crossing your arms defensively.

“I needed money. What are you doing here?”

His hand went to his hair, fixing the bun that sat on top of his head and nodded in the direction of some empty bunks.

“I also needed money, why else would I be here?” You raised a brow as you followed him towards the private spot.

You wanted to know what he could possibly need money for, but Daeho was so private you knew you’d never get that answer. Even if you were his best friend.

“You shouldn’t be here, Dae.” You sighed as you leaned against the wall.

You couldn’t protect your best friend, not from this. After Daeho enlisted in the Marines you had a never ending supply of worry in your body for him. Constantly fearing the worst, him being here was going to distract you from staying alive. Your heart raced at the thought of either of not making it out and your eyes found his.

“I can’t lose you.” It came out as a whisper but you knew he’d heard you as he moved closer to you.

His hand moved to cup your cheek.

“Come on, I’m a Marine, I’ve got this. And I’ve got you. We’re going to get out of here. I promise.” You nodded, moving to lean your head on his chest.

You knew it would be bad if anyone caught you panicking but as Daeho's hands wound around your body you allowed yourself to take a few minutes to collect yourself. Perhaps it wasn’t normal to feel so much comfort from a friend, but you weren’t ready to dive into those feelings, not yet.

“We don’t die.” He murmured against your hair.

“We don’t die.” You repeated. He grinned at you before walking you over to your bunk, making sure nobody messed with you as you got sleep.

The next game was a team game, Daeho took the lead in finding you a group, being the friendlier person in your duo. You’d somehow managed to end up with player 456 and player 001. You said a nervous hello and stuck close to your best friend. After you completed your task perfectly, the team cheated, Daeho pulling you in for a quick side hug as you marched forward. For a second, with his arm wrapped protectively around you, you almost forgot that you were fighting for your life inside these games.

After the game had ended you stood with your newly found team, waiting for the next vote. You had all agreed to vote to go home again so when it was your turn to vote, you proudly hit that x and put the badge on your jacket. Almost as if on instinct, Daeho moved to stand next to you as you awaited the rest of the votes. As the final four players made their way to the front, your hand reached out, grabbing his, he gave you a squeeze in response. Your heart raced at the touch and you looked down at your entwined hands before meeting your best friends’ eye.

So, maybe you had a crush on your best friend, maybe that was why you were so afraid to lose him. Either way, this wasn’t the time to start admitting your feelings, so when he smiled at you you smiled back and pushed those thoughts down, hoping that these votes would go in your favor and you’d be able to go home. A groan rang out amongst your peers and you looked up to see that there was only one vote left and you’d lost. Your mouth hanging open in shock as you turned back to Dae.

Another game? Why would anyone want to stay here?

“Let’s Go!” Someone shouted from across the room and you looked around spotting the purple haired man high fiving his friend.

Of course he’d be excited to stay.

“Hey, look at me.” Daeho’s hand was under your chin moving your gaze back to him, your heart racing as you locked eyes.

Daeho had always been in tune with your mood, and would do anything in his power to keep you calm and safe. You were the most important person in his life and even in a game of literal life and death he was going to do whatever it took to make sure you weren’t living in constant fear.

“We’ll get through this one together too, okay?” You swallowed the lump in your throat refusing to let the rest of your team see you so defeated and nodded.

“Yeah.” You agreed.

“Let’s go get some food and talk strategy for the next time.”

He held his hand out for you, a reassuring grin on his face and you eagerly took his hand following him to your new found team. You weren’t sure you wanted to be close to anyone else in the game, but you also knew you couldn’t keep Dae alive without some help so you were going to do whatever it took to keep him alive, even if that meant making nice with people who all had one goal in mind. You scooted closer to Daeho, your hand resting on his leg and he grinned at you as he started eating his food. You didn't care if you made it out of here or not, so long as he did.

#kang dae ho x reader #kang daeho x reader #kang daeho #kang dae ho #squid game #squid game x reader #my fics #lmtc #divider by @cafekitsune

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bunnywritesjunk · 2 years ago

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My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks.

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization.

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read.

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.'

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega.

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match.

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega.

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down.

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed.

“What? Mom, you're too loud.”

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled.

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you.

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.”

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say.

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.”

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.”

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out.

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside.

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say.

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock.

“Come in.” You said.

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly.

Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily.

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page.

‘Congratulations!’ It read.

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag.

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply.

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously.

“Please hold while I transfer you.”

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve.

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?”

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.”

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.”

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?”

“No not at the moment.”

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.”

“Bye.”

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?”

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.”

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall.

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV.

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.”

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in.

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly.

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded.

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance.

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand.

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on.

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her.

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in.

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued.

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly.

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.”

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso.

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him.

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you.

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?”

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him.

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first.

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress.

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said.

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused.

“Put them on.” You encourage him.

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?”

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod.

“Thank you, Leibe.”

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?”

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day.

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?”

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled.

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in.

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?'

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.”

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.”

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through.

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant.

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?”

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask.

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.”

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well.

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.”

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said.

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign.

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled.

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said.

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex.

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said.

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words.

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation.

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.”

“Alright then, that's all that matters.”

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask.

“I also had a good time, liebe.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.”

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek.

“I'll see you soon, love.”

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majinael · 4 months ago

Text

"i need a friends to lovers kaiser x reader fic with a deep focus on his trauma and his toxic coping mechanisms and he's slowly doing better thanks to the reader, healthy love with the reader heals him, and he learns what it is to be loved :((

i don't want smut i want DEEP EMOTIONAL INTIMACY !!!!!!

i swear people don't get his character like i do, my baby needs LOVE"

from @krys4h

here we go for a part 1 :3

★michael kaiser x she/her pronouns reader (can be interpreted as GN)

★3,6k words

★songs associated : one & two

I had known Michael Kaiser since the day I was assigned as the team’s nurse. In my line of work, I’d learned to connect with every player on a professional yet friendly level—it was part of treating them with care. Most of them warmed up to me quickly, eager to share stories or jokes during their treatment sessions. But Kaiser? He was something else entirely.

Rarely injured, he was almost like a ghost in my office. When I did see him, it was brief, and he would insist he didn’t need anything. His arrogance would radiate even in those fleeting moments, accompanied by a dismissive smirk that said, I’m untouchable.

During my breaks, I often watched the team train from the sidelines or walked through the gym and facilities. It was fascinating to observe them push their limits, but truthfully, I was never particularly drawn to football. It felt more like a job perk than a passion.

The first real conversation I had with Kaiser wasn’t in my office or the gym but on the field during an unplanned encounter. After sitting at my desk for hours, buried in work, I needed a breather. Wandering aimlessly, I found myself by the field. It was supposed to be empty, yet there he was, surrounded by several soccer balls lying on the damp grass.

I stopped, my curiosity piqued as I watched him shoot a goal with such precision and power that it left me speechless. The ball sliced through the air like it was destined for the net, hitting its mark flawlessly.

“Impressive,” I murmured aloud, my voice breaking the silence.

Kaiser turned, his signature cocky smile already plastered on his face as his gaze landed on me. “Of course it is,” he replied smoothly, his ego inflating visibly. But before he could bask in my compliment, I raised an eyebrow and added, “But can you actually pull that off in a real match?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and almost condescending. “I wouldn’t train something useless,” he retorted, brushing off the challenge. But then, to my surprise, he launched into an explanation of the technique. “The Kaiser Impact Magnus,” he called it, and as he spoke, his words were laced with passion and precision.

I was captivated. His knowledge and ability to articulate something so complex left me staring, wide-eyed.

“That’s... wow,” I said, genuinely impressed. “You’re really smart. I’ve never seen or heard anything like it. Would you mind if I watched you play? I promise I won’t be a bother.”

He smirked, tilting his head arrogantly. “Of course, you’d want to watch. Sit still, pretty.”

For the next hour, I sat on the barrier of the field, watching him train. His movements were mesmerizing—the way his blue-tipped hair framed his sharp features, the rise and fall of his chest as he pushed himself relentlessly, the calculation in his eyes as he analyzed every play. It wasn’t just skill; it was artistry.

I couldn’t help but stare, completely unaware of the stray ball ricocheting off the goalpost and hurtling toward me until it struck me square in the face.

Pain exploded across my nose as I fell back onto the wet grass. My vision blurred, and as I tried to gather my bearings, I heard footsteps approaching.

Kaiser loomed over me, his expression torn between amusement and mild concern. “Could’ve dodged that, y’know,” he said, a faint chuckle escaping. “Really, I can’t tell if you’re lucky or unlucky. The ball usually doesn’t even come this way.”

Blinking up at him with an innocent, dazed expression, I felt a sharp sting of both pain and embarrassment. My nose throbbed relentlessly, blood trickling down onto my shirt, while specks of wet dirt clung stubbornly to my cheek. He crouched slightly, pulling a tissue from his bag nearby, and for a fleeting moment, I noticed something unusual in his eyes—an almost imperceptible softness that seemed out of place.

What was he seeing? Whatever it was, it must have stirred something unfamiliar in his chest. I remembered an interview where he mentioned his fascination with faces of despair, but I doubted that was what I wore now. No, this wasn’t despair—it was vulnerability, raw and unguarded,I looked just like a defenseless kid and it lingered between us like a secret neither of us knew how to acknowledge.

“Don’t look at me like it was intentional,” he added, rolling his eyes. “Here. Wipe that off. You look horrible.”

Taking the tissue, I stood unsteadily, trying to laugh off my humiliation. “At least I’m fully awake now,” I joked, though my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

My optimism seemed to amuse him. He smirked, returning to his training, but as droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, I lingered.

“It’s raining,” I called out, expecting him to follow me inside. When he didn’t respond, I hesitated. “Michael? Are you not coming inside? You’ll get sick. Training can wait.”

He shrugged without looking at me, the raindrops glistening in his hair. “Worry about yourself. I’m fine.”

Something about his nonchalance struck a nerve. If I were as talented, as admired, as incredible as him, wouldn’t I take better care of myself? Yet, there he was, drenched in rain, pushing himself as though he had something to prove.

I watched him for a moment longer before turning away, a strange ache settling in my chest. Back in my office, I tried to focus on work, but the sight of him—so brilliant, yet so reckless—stayed with me. It wasn’t the first time I noticed how different he was from the others, but now, for some reason, I couldn’t shake the thought.

And for the first time, I wondered what it was that drove Michael Kaiser to treat himself like he was anything less than extraordinary.

The next morning, I made my way to the cafeteria at around 9 a.m., craving a much-needed coffee. While chatting casually with the bartender, I heard familiar footsteps behind me. Turning around with my coffee in hand, I spotted Kaiser lounging on one of the couches, his attention fixed on the TV replaying football matches.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I approached him. His usual cocky posture remained intact, but something about his red-tinted nose caught my attention. Without hesitation, I plopped down beside him.

“Red nose... Is someone sick?” I teased lightly, trying to catch his attention.

His infamous grin spread across his face, almost as if it were second nature. “Mind your business,” he quipped, barely sparing me a glance.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well actually, I’m the nurse. This is my business.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. He turned to me, his grin softening into something that resembled amusement. “Fair,” he conceded, “but I’m not sick. Some idiot just threw a ball at me.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because that happened to me recently too.”

His gaze narrowed, a playful glint lighting up his striking blue eyes. “Are you calling me an idiot?” he asked, leaning slightly toward me, his tone light but teasing.

The sheer audacity of the situation made me burst into laughter, while I was taking a sip—resulting in the coffee exploding spectacularly all over my white shirt and on my face.

For a moment, silence hung between us before Kaiser’s eyes widened in disbelief. Then came his reaction: “You look insanely stupid right now,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching.

“I know,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning as I avoided his stare, mortified by my rather unusual clumsiness.

His laugh was instant and unrestrained, echoing in the nearly empty cafeteria. But it wasn’t his usual mocking chuckle; no, this laugh seemed genuine. His shoulders shaking as his eyes grew watery. It was... different. And somehow, the sound pulled me in.

Caught up in the absurdity of the situation and the rare warmth of his laughter, I found myself laughing too—though not at the coffee-stained mess I’d become, but as an answer to his laugh. Seeing Michael Kaiser, of all people, like this was oddly disarming.

“I should probably clean this up,” I said awkwardly after a moment, standing up to leave.

His gaze lingered on me as I walked away. I could feel it like a weight on my back, even as I disappeared into the hallway.

Left alone, Kaiser’s attention shifted to his reflection in the darkened TV screen. For a fleeting second, he caught sight of himself wearing an unguarded, genuine smile. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“She’s an idiot,” he though.

He shook his head, refocusing on the replay, but the corners of his mouth twitched again, the thought of witnessing another one of my shenanigans lingering in his mind far longer than he cared to admit.

As the day unfolded, I buried myself in paperwork for two and a half hours before rushing to the field. He was still there.

This would become a habit—an unspoken agreement. Neither of us addressed it, but it was clear.

When I approached, his trademark smirk appeared. "Are you stalking me, or are you missing me already?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I chuckled in response, leaning casually against the barrier. Before I could come up with a clever retort, he shot a ball directly at me. I barely dodged it this time.

"Good reflexes," he said with a slow clap, clearly entertained.

"Are you trying to kill me?" I shot back, sarcasm masking the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. My heart raced, but I kept my composure.

The ball rolled to a stop behind me. I picked it up and shot it back at him with, let’s say… slightly less precision. The ball missed him completely and soared into the goal instead.

His expression was a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "Lucky shot," he muttered.

I grinned triumphantly. "Skill only."

He scoffed. "Tch." And with that, he turned his back to me, resuming his drills, pretending I no longer existed.

I stood closer than usual now, watching him. "Don’t you have a water bottle?" I asked.

"Some idiot stole mine today," he grumbled. "When I find out who it is—"

I couldn’t help but laugh softly. If I were the culprit, I’d want to stay far, far away from Michael Kaiser.

Time passed, and at some point, he noticed me on the other side of the field, awkwardly mimicking his movements.

"That’s not how it’s done," he called out, exasperation lacing his tone.

He placed a ball on the ground, letting it roll for a moment before striking it with flawless precision. "Like that."

"You make it look easy," I said, walking closer to the goal. "Maybe I should try from here."

I attempted his move, but as the ball ricocheted off the goalpost and left the field I looked up at him.

"You’re terrible at this," he said, barely hiding his amusement.

"Good thing I’m not a footballer," I shot back. "But I can’t say you’re a good teacher."

His eyebrow arched. "It’s not difficult, you idiot."

"Not for the great Michael Kaiser," I teased with a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes but, to my surprise, set up another ball. This time, he explained each step while executing the move.

"That wasn’t so bad was it?" I asked proudly, succeeding after his clearer explanation.

He ignored me, returning to his training with a quiet huff.

I leaned against the goalpost, watching him intently. "I wish someone had taught me how to play football too. It looks so fun when you do it."

"Too?" he asked, his tone sharp. "I learned how to play alone."

I blinked, surprised. "No way. Your parents must’ve been amazing athletes then."

That’s when everything froze. He stopped mid-step, and for a moment, even the soft drizzle seemed to halt.

A lump formed in my throat. Had I said something wrong?

Without turning to me, he replied bitterly, "No, they're not."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, driving an invisible wedge between us. I felt like I’d crossed a line I didn’t even know existed.

Instinct told me to leave, so I did—quietly, without another word.

I spent the night overthinking it all, replaying the scene in my mind. For days, I didn’t see even a shadow of him. He hadn’t left his usual spots; our timings just seemed to miss each other.

And it left me wondering: What the hell just happened?

That was until I was called onto the field during a training match. Noel Noa scolded me lightly for not being there as I usually was, but the weight of my guilt over the situation with Kaiser left me too drained to respond.

A player had injured himself, and “as usual”, he refused to seek my help. I had a small idea of who it might be.

Fate had an odd sense of humor, I thought, bringing us together in the most inconvenient ways.

As I approached him, he sat on the grass, glaring down at it as though it had personally offended him. His posture screamed irritation, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Hello, Michael,” I greeted, keeping my voice even.

No answer. Just a sharp glare in my direction, like a dagger aimed straight at my chest. I swallowed hard.

“Let me take care of you,” I offered.

“I told him I didn’t need your medical attention. What part of that does he not understand?” His tone was biting, his disdain palpable.

I sighed softly and crouched in front of him. “Michael.”

His eyes widened slightly at the sound of his name before flicking away from mine.

“Please,” I continued, my voice gentler. “At least let me take a look.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, as if granting me a favor, and muttered, “I don’t need your help.”

“But I need your well-being,” I countered, my voice cracking faintly.

“No, you don’t,” he shot back, his tone quieter this time. “I’ll be fine.”

I tilted my head, offering him a patient smile. “I doubt Noel will let you play unless you let me take a look.”

That argument seemed to hit its mark. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from his pocket. It was smeared with sticky, drying blood. Someone must have stepped on it with their cleats. My stomach churned imagining the pain it must have been.

I sat down beside him and took his injured hand gently in mine, studying the wound. “This might sting a little,” I warned as I began cleaning the blood away with alcohol and tissues.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, focused on my task.

When I glanced up, I noticed his expression had softened. It wasn’t the usual arrogance or anger I’d come to associate with him—it was something different, quieter, almost vulnerable.

I continued cleaning the wound, careful and deliberate, as though I were handling something fragile. When I finished, I held his hand for a moment longer than necessary, expecting him to snatch it back. But he didn’t.

There was something profoundly strange about his demeanor. He sat there, a paradox of composure and vulnerability, his posture steady yet his eyes betraying a depth of confusion I’d never seen before. His gaze held an unnameable expression, something I couldn’t quite decipher, as if the moment we’d just shared was far more intimate than either of us had anticipated. The silence between us was heavy, not with tension, but with the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

“Hey, Michael?” I asked softly. His head turned toward me, but he said nothing.

“Are you okay?” I added with a bright smile.

Still silence.

I stood up and rummaged through my bag. “Here,” I said, holding out a water bottle. “When Noel told me what happened, I knew it was you. I remembered you said someone stole yours last week.”

His gaze flicked between the bottle and me, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse.

So much gentleness and care all of a sudden was probably more than he could comprehend but he gently took it and looked up at me all in silence.

“I’ll tell Noel you’re good to go. If you need your bandages changed or anything else, my office is always open,” I said, standing.

As I walked away, I felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, as though I’d just witnessed something rare and fleeting—a glimpse of the real Michael Kaiser, the one hidden beneath the sharp edges and icy walls.

When I returned to Noel and reported that Kaiser was ready, he called him back to the field with a simple gesture. I sat on the sidelines, watching Michael play with an attentiveness I hadn’t felt before.

To me, he wasn’t just Michael Kaiser, the arrogant genius striker. He was someone I could call a friend. A friend I was proud to have, even if he could never know.

hiiii! I am trying so so hard to keep him in character xo, I hope you like this first part, the second part is here ;) don't hesitate to give me feedback love y'all

#michael kaiser #blue lock #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk kaiser #bllk x reader #female reader

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bangchansdirty-slut · 9 months ago

Note

🍊hi I'm the one who requested the jay fic

First it was so good(I've read several of your fics so I'm not surprised)

I was thinking of a park 2 were sunghoon is the cold member of the friend group and finds out about jay and m/n but thinks jay bottoms and follows m/n after school cause he is secretly curious about bottoming

(Also I'm nervous to ask this but do you write for ni-ki cause I had a cute story in mind w/ no smut cause I know some people who get really heated about this)

Ps it's OK if you don't I just thought it would be OK to ask cause you seem chill and not likely to go ballistic on me(it's happening before so it give me anxiety)

Our Secret Part .2

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Paring: Top!Jock!Jay x Switch!Nerd!Male reader x Bttm!Jock!Sunghoon

Genre: smut

Requested

Pt.1

More: Masterlist

A/n: Thank you all for the requests. I'm currently working on them, so I don't know when my next post will be, but stay tuned. Requests are still open. Also, I write for all the members of Enhypen. Also, I hope this is what you requested and I did it well.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

"You're going to be late for your math test, Jay," Sunghoon called out as Jay lingered by the lockers, his eyes glued to M/n's retreating figure.

Jay nodded absently, his mind still swirling with the memories of their last secret encounter. "Yeah, I know," he murmured, pushing off from the locker and heading towards his class. He couldn't shake the feeling that Sunghoon had noticed something different about him, but he brushed it off. He had always been the quiet, stoic one of the group—his friends wouldn't suspect a thing.

As the days passed, Jay and M/n's secret grew stronger, fueled by the stolen moments in the bathroom and the risky glances they shared in the hallways. Each meeting was a clandestine dance of desire, the thrill of discovery heightened by the fear of exposure. Jay felt alive in a way he never had before, the excitement of their secret trysts overshadowing the mundane routine of school and the increasingly dull camaraderie of the ENHYPEN.

One noon, as the bell rang and the hallways filled, Sunghoon lingered, his eyes narrowed as he watched M/n slip into the bathroom. His curiosity piqued, he waited, his thoughts racing. He knew Jay had been acting differently, and the whispers of their secret had reached his ears. He couldn't help but feel a strange mix of jealousy and fascination—Jay, the golden boy of the group, breaking their unspoken code of heteronormativity. Sunghoon found himself drawn to the bathroom door, his heart pounding in his chest.

As the minutes ticked by, he heard the faint sound of the lock turning. He waited, his breath held, until the door opened a crack. Jay stepped out, his face flushed, and their eyes met. For a split second, Jay's expression was one of pure terror, but it was quickly replaced with a smirk. "What's up, Sunghoon?" he said casually, as if he hadn't just been caught in a compromising situation.

Sunghoon felt his own face heat up, unsure of what to say. He'd never been one for confrontation, preferring to keep his thoughts and feelings buried beneath a layer of stoicism. But something about the situation, the raw passion he'd glimpsed, had shaken him to his core. "I need to talk to you," he said, his voice firm.

Jay raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Can it wait until after school?"

Sunghoon's curiosity won out over his nerves. "No, it can't."

Jay sighed, the tension in his shoulders visibly releasing. "Fine." He led the way to an empty classroom, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. Once the door was closed, Jay turned to face Sunghoon, his expression unreadable.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. "What's going on with you and M/n?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his stomach.

Jay leaned against the desk, his eyes never leaving Sunghoon's. "What makes you think anything's going on?"

Sunghoon's voice was low, almost a growl. "Don't lie to me, Jay. I saw the way you looked at each other, the way you touched him in the bathroom."

Jay's smirk fell away, and he took a step closer to Sunghoon, his eyes searching for any sign of judgment or disgust. "It's not like that," he said softly. "I just… I can't explain it."

Sunghoon's gaze never wavered. "You don't have to. But if you're going to keep this up, you need to be careful. The others can't find out."

Jay nodded, his throat tight. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Sunghoon studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "But why M/n?" His voice was filled with confusion and a hint of accusation. "You could have anyone you want."

Jay looked away, his eyes misting over. "It's not about who I can have. It's about who I want. And…who makes me feel alive." He took a deep breath, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And it's not just about me. It's about you too, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Jay took a step closer, his voice barely audible. "I know you've been watching us. And I know you've been…curious." He paused, watching Sunghoon's reaction closely. "You've always been so closed off, but I've seen the way you look at M/n when you think no one's watching. The way your eyes follow him, the way you get all tense when we talk about him."

Sunghoon's face grew hot, his heart racing. He hadn't realized his feelings were so transparent. "What are you saying?" he managed to choke out.

Jay stepped even closer, his voice a gentle murmur. "I'm saying that maybe you're not as straight as you think you are." He reached out and placed a hand on Sunghoon's arm, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through Sunghoon's body. "And if you ever want to explore that…I could help you."

Sunghoon's mind raced. He had never considered the possibility that his curiosity about M/n went beyond mere fascination. The idea of Jay guiding him through this uncharted territory was both terrifying and intriguing. He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Jay's hand on his arm, then back up to meet his gaze. "What are you proposing?"

Jay's eyes searched Sunghoon's, looking for any sign of rejection. "I'm saying that we could all learn from each other, you know? M/n and I, we've got this… connection. And maybe you could find something like that too." He paused, his voice dropping even lower. "I know you're curious about bottoming. I can see it in the way you watch us."

Sunghoon felt his cheeks flush, his eyes darting away from Jay's intense gaze. "How did you…?"

Jay gave a knowing smile. "It's not that hard to see, Sunghoon. And I've been there. I know what it's like to have those thoughts, to wonder." He took a step closer, invading Sunghoon's personal space. "But you don't have to wonder anymore. You can experience it."

Sunghoon's breath hitched, his eyes locked on Jay's. "How?" he whispered, the word barely audible.

Jay's smile grew, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. "Well, we could start with you watching us. Or, if you're ready, we could try something with you." He leaned in, his breath hot against Sunghoon's ear. "I'd be gentle, I promise."

Sunghoon's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing with a mix of excitement and fear. He had never allowed himself to act on his curiosity, always pushing it down, telling himself it was just a phase. But Jay's words resonated with him, whispering the promise of a freedom he had never dared to dream of.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice shaky. "I'll join."

Jay's eyes lit up with excitement, and he gave Sunghoon's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Good," he said, his voice filled with a gentle confidence. "Meet us in the bathroom after school. We'll make sure it's empty."

The rest of the day was a blur for Sunghoon. He couldn't focus on his classes, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. He found himself glancing at Jay and M/n during lessons, his imagination running wild with what the two of them had been doing together. The anticipation was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his entire world was about to change.

When the final bell rang, Sunghoon's stomach twisted into knots. He gathered his books, his legs feeling like jelly as he made his way to the designated bathroom. He checked his watch, ensuring that the coast was clear, and slipped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. The tiles were cold under his feet, echoing his nervousness as he approached the last stall.

The door was slightly ajar, and he could see Jay's shoes peeking out. He took a deep breath and knocked lightly. "It's just me," he murmured. The door swung open, and Jay's warm smile was the first thing he saw. M/n was there too, looking equally nervous but with an unmistakable spark of excitement in his eyes.

Jay stepped aside to let Sunghoon in, his hand lingering on the small of his back. "You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes flicking to M/n, who gave him a tentative smile. "I… I think so."

Jay's hand slipped away, and M/n took its place, his touch feather-light. "We'll go slow," he promised, his voice soothing. "You can tell us to stop anytime."

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes darting between the two of them. Jay's gaze was filled with understanding, while M/n's was a mix of excitement and apprehension. They both knew the risks involved in what they were about to do, but the allure of the unknown was too tempting to resist.

M/n reached out and took Sunghoon's hand, leading him into the stall. The space was tight, but the three of them managed to fit, their bodies pressing against each other in a way that was both awkward and thrilling. Jay leaned against the wall, watching as M/n began to undo Sunghoon's pants. "Relax," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Sunghoon's.

M/n's hands were gentle as he pulled Sunghoon's cock free, his thumb tracing the vein that pulsed with desire. Sunghoon's eyes closed, a soft moan escaping his lips as he felt M/n's warm breath against his skin. Jay's own erection was clear, pressing against the fabric of his jeans as he watched the scene unfold.

M/n took Sunghoon in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip before taking him in deeper. Sunghoon's breath hitched, his knees threatening to buckle. He'd never felt anything like this before—the wet heat, the suction, the way M/n's eyes never left his own. It was like he was being claimed, and he couldn't get enough.

Jay stepped closer, his hand sliding around to cup Sunghoon's ass, pulling him closer to M/n's eager mouth. "Look at him," Jay whispered, his voice thick with lust. "You're doing so good."

Sunghoon's eyes fluttered open, meeting Jay's intense gaze. He felt exposed, but also protected, like he was part of something intimate and beautiful. Jay's hand began to move in slow, firm circles, massaging the tension from his muscles as M/n continued to suck him off. It was a sensation like no other, and Sunghoon found himself letting go of his inhibitions.

Jay leaned in and kissed Sunghoon, his tongue probing the depths of his mouth as M/n's tongue swirled around his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that had Sunghoon's toes curling in his shoes. He felt Jay's hand move down to join M/n's, the two of them working in tandem to bring him closer to the edge.

The kiss grew more passionate, Jay's hand gripping Sunghoon's ass tighter as M/n's pace increased. Sunghoon's hips began to move, his body taking over as he lost himself in the moment.

M/n's eyes flicked up to meet Sunghoon's, a silent question in his gaze. Sunghoon nodded, his eyes glazed with desire, and M/n took that as his cue to push him over the edge. He sucked harder, his hand moving in time with his mouth, until Sunghoon was panting and trembling, his release spilling out into M/n's eager mouth.

M/n pulled away, a smear of cum on his lips, and looked up at Sunghoon with a smug satisfaction. Jay stepped back, giving them space as M/n turned to face the newcomer. With a swift movement, M/n pulled his own pants down, exposing his already hard cock. He bent over, his asshole puckering slightly, and reached back to spread his cheeks. "I want you inside me," he murmured, his voice filled with a need that was impossible to ignore.

Sunghoon's eyes widened, his own cock still pulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He stepped closer, his hands shaking slightly as he positioned himself behind M/n. Jay watched, his own erection straining against his boxers, as Sunghoon tentatively pushed the tip of his cock into M/n's waiting hole. M/n's breath hitched, his body tensing before he began to relax, allowing Sunghoon to slide in deeper.

Jay's eyes darkened with need as he stepped behind Sunghoon, his own erection demanding attention. He quickly shimmied out of his pants and boxers, revealing his hardened length. Without a word, he pushed into Sunghoon, who gasped at the sudden intrusion. Sunghoon's cock was still semi-hard, and the sensation of Jay's thickness entering him was a shock. But as Jay began to move, Sunghoon felt his body respond, his cock swelling back to life as he pushed into M/n.

The two of them started to move in sync, creating a rhythm that was both erotic and slightly uncomfortable in the cramped stall. Sunghoon's hands gripped the divider for support as Jay's hips slapped against his ass, driving him deeper into M/n. The sound of their muffled moans filled the small space, mixing with the rustle of clothing and the slick sounds of skin on skin.

M/n's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt Sunghoon's cock push into him, filling him in a way he hadn't experienced before. The mix of pleasure and pain was exhilarating, and he couldn't help but push back, urging Sunghoon to go deeper. Jay watched, his own desire building as he saw M/n's body react to the new sensation. He knew exactly what M/n needed, and he was eager to give it to him.

With each thrust, Sunghoon felt himself growing more accustomed to the sensation of being the one in control, the one to give pleasure. His own cock was hardening again, and he couldn't deny the excitement of having Jay's thick length inside him as he claimed M/n. The feeling was strange, but not unwelcome. It was like he was discovering a new part of himself, a part that was just as hungry for connection as the rest of him.

M/n's moans grew louder, his body shuddering with each powerful push. He reached back and grabbed onto Sunghoon's hips, pulling him closer, urging him to go harder. Sunghoon's hand found its way to M/n's cock, stroking him in time with their movements. The three of them were lost in the moment, their bodies moving together like they were made for this.

Sunghoon's grip tightened on the divider as Jay's pace grew more insistent. He could feel Jay's cock pounding into his ass, and the friction was driving him wild. He pushed into M/n with renewed vigor, his own climax building. M/n's cries grew more desperate, and Sunghoon knew he was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, M/n came, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Sunghoon felt the warmth of M/n's release spill over his hand, and the sight of M/n's face, contorted with pleasure, was almost too much for him to handle. He came, his own cock pulsing inside M/n, filling him up as he buried his face in the crook of M/n's neck, biting down to muffle his own cries.

Jay watched, his own climax approaching rapidly. Cumming inside Sunghoon was an intoxicating thought, but he held back, wanting to savor the moment. He leaned in and whispered into Sunghoon's ear, "You're doing so good, baby." His voice was thick with lust, his breath hot against Sunghoon's skin.

Sunghoon's eyes met Jay's, and he felt a rush of emotion. He had never felt so wanted, so desired. He pushed back into Jay one last time, and Jay's cock slammed into his prostate, sending him over the edge. Jay groaned, his own orgasm ripping through him as he filled Sunghoon with his cum.

The three of them stood there, panting and trembling, their bodies still connected. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. They were a tangle of limbs and desire, a secret no one else knew about.

M/n pulled away, panting heavily, his body spent and trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Jay followed suit, his cock slipping out of Sunghoon with a wet pop. They both stepped back, giving Sunghoon a moment to process what had just happened. He looked between them, his eyes glazed with a mix of confusion and exhilaration.

"Was it good?" Jay asked, his voice hoarse from his own recent release. Sunghoon nodded, his cheeks still flushed. "It was… intense," he managed to say, his voice shaking slightly.

M/n straightened up, his own pants back in place, and handed Sunghoon a wad of toilet paper. "You did great," he said with a gentle smile, the air between them thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

Sunghoon took it, his hand shaking as he cleaned himself up. He couldn't believe what he had just done, but there was no denying the satisfaction that hummed through his body. He looked up at Jay and M/n, their expressions a mix of pleasure and anticipation. "I… I liked it," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jay stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Sunghoon's waist. "I knew you would," he said with a wink. "But remember, this stays between us."

#bangchansdirty-slut #sunghoon x male reader #jay x male reader #park sunghoon x male reader #jay park x male reader #enhypen x male reader #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut

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cherryxbooo · 3 months ago

Note

omg i love your mason fic, the angst one. please write more angst i love your writings!!

Lost me forever

Summary: You thought you had finally found 'the one' and that you were the first choice all along, but that was until the truth finally came to light.

Note: Thank you so much lovely! As for the angst request, your wish is my command! I chose to write this for Mason since I found it fitting. Hope you enjoy it!

Reader x Mason Mount

Genre: Angst

Loving Mason Mount felt like the easiest thing in the world.

It was effortless, like breathing, like waking up to golden sunlight streaming through the curtains, warming my skin before his arms ever had the chance.

From the moment we found our way to each other, it felt like the universe had been waiting for it to happen.

Like everything before him had been grayscale, and he was the color I’d been missing.

He made life feel lighter, and softer. It wasn’t just the grand moments, it was the little things.

Like the way his fingers would find mine beneath restaurant tables, absently tracing patterns against my palm as he listened to me talk.

Or how he would pull me back into bed on Sunday mornings, refusing to let me go,

his voice thick with sleep as he mumbled, “Five more minutes, baby. Just five more.”

And we both knew it would never be just five.

It was the way he’d insist on carrying my books when he met me outside my lectures, even though I told him I could handle it.

“I know you can, but I like taking care of you,” he’d say, pressing a kiss to my temple before reaching for my bag anyway.

Late-night drives with the windows down, my feet propped up on the dashboard as he glanced over at me, grinning like I was his favorite sight in the world.

“You know I love you, right?” he'd say out of nowhere, his voice soft but certain.

And every time, my heart would stumble over itself as I whispered back,

“Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

The way he’d tuck me into his chest on the couch, his fingers running lazily through my hair as we half-watched a movie, more focused on each other than whatever was playing.

Or how he’d tease me when I got grumpy, pressing exaggerated kisses all over my face until I was laughing, pushing him away only for him to pull me right back.

He made me feel adored. Cherished.

Like I was his entire world.

And for a while, I truly believed he loved me just as much as I loved him.

But I didn’t realize that, all along, he was still orbiting around someone else.

The change was subtle at first. So subtle that I almost convinced myself it wasn’t happening.

At first, it was little things.

Mason would forget to text me back, not just for a few minutes, but for hours.

I’d send him something funny, something I knew would’ve made him laugh before, and the read receipt would linger, unanswered.

Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s just tired. I made excuses, brushing it off like it wasn’t the start of something unraveling.

Then he started canceling plans last minute.

"Sorry, something came up. Training ran late. I’m exhausted, let’s do tomorrow?"

Tomorrow would turn into the next day, then the next, until suddenly, I realized I was the only one trying to reschedule.

Our deep, intimate conversations, the ones where we’d stay up until three in the morning talking about everything and nothing, where he’d tell me about his childhood dreams, his fears, the things he never admitted to anyone else, turned into empty small talk.

"How was your day? Did you eat?"

His words felt distant, mechanical, like he was just going through the motions.

I tried to ignore the way his responses lacked warmth, the way he barely asked about me anymore.

And when we were together, it felt like he wasn’t really there.

He’d sit next to me on the couch, but his body was tense, like he was waiting for an excuse to leave.

He’d hold my hand, but it didn’t feel the same, his grip wasn’t as firm, as reassuring.

His kisses were quick, and absentminded, like they were more of a habit than something he wanted to do.

The worst part? He stopped looking at me like he used to.

The light in his eyes, the way they used to soften when they met mine, it was gone.

Now, when I caught him staring, it felt like he was searching for something that wasn’t there anymore.

I tried not to let it bother me. I told myself it was stress, that he was overwhelmed with training, with matches, with the constant pressure to perform.

It has nothing to do with me. I repeated it like a mantra, like if I said it enough, I’d believe it.

But deep down, I felt it.

The distance. The absence of his warmth.

The quiet way he was slipping away from me, little by little, day by day.

Then came the late nights.

I’d wake up to an empty bed, the sheets cold where he should’ve been.

At first, I thought maybe he couldn’t sleep, maybe he was just restless.

But then I heard it. The hushed whispers from the other room, the way his voice softened in a way it never did with me anymore.

The first time, I told myself I was imagining things.

The second time, I told myself it was probably a teammate.

The third time, I stopped lying to myself.

Because when I walked in too quickly, when I caught him sitting on the edge of the couch, phone pressed to his ear, he snapped his head up so fast it was like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

His expression shifted, just for a second, before he forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Didn’t wanna wake you.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him like I always had.

But my heart was screaming at me. Telling me something was wrong.

I just didn’t want to ask.

Because I already knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

The night everything fell apart,

I was at Mason’s place, curled up on his couch, wrapped in the blanket he always draped over my shoulders whenever I got cold.

It smelled like him, like the faint traces of his cologne mixed with something unmistakably him, something that once made me feel safe.

I had been waiting for him to get back from training, my phone resting loosely in my hand as I scrolled absentmindedly, not really paying attention to anything on the screen.

The TV hummed softly in the background, playing an episode of a show we had started together but never finished.

He used to insist on waiting for me before watching the next one. Lately, he didn’t wait anymore.

I tried not to think about it too much.

I tried not to think about any of it too much.

The unanswered texts. The canceled plans.

The way his kisses felt like muscle memory instead of something he wanted.

I had spent weeks, months, convincing myself that this was just a rough patch.

That things would go back to normal once the season settled, once the stress faded, once he had time to breathe.

That we would go back to normal.

I wasn’t looking for answers that night.

I wasn’t searching for proof that something was wrong.

But sometimes, the truth doesn’t wait for you to be ready.

Sometimes, it finds you when you least expect it.

And that night, it found me in the form of an unexpected message on Mason’s laptop.

The screen lit up suddenly, casting a soft glow over the coffee table. At first, I barely noticed.

I was too lost in my own head, too focused on distracting myself from the gnawing ache in my chest.

I wasn’t the kind of person to snoop. I had never needed to be.

I trusted Mason.

Or at least, I thought I did.

But then, my eyes flickered to the name at the top of the message.

And my heart stopped.

Her name.

His ex Charlotte.

I stared at it, my breath catching in my throat.

It was just a name. Just a simple notification.

And yet, it felt like the ground beneath me had shifted.

There was no reason for them to be talking. No good reason, at least.

Mason never spoke about her. He had told me, once, that their story was over.

That I was the only one he saw a future with. That she was a part of his past, and that’s where she would stay.

I wanted to believe him. I had believed him.

So then why was she here, on his screen, reaching out like she had never really left?

For a moment, I hesitated.

I wanted to look away, to pretend I hadn’t seen it, to act like it was just some meaningless message.

That would be easier, wouldn’t it? I could go back to the way things were, smiling through the doubt, pushing aside the way he had been slipping away from me piece by piece.

But then I saw the preview of the message.

Just a few words.

But they were enough to send ice through my veins.

I miss you.

My hands shook as I reached for the laptop.

My heart pounded against my ribs, screaming at me, begging me to stop.

But I couldn’t.

I clicked on the message.

Then another. And another.

And with every message I read, my world crumbled around me.

It wasn’t just casual conversation.

It wasn’t Hey, how have you been? or Hope you're doing well.

It was confessions whispered in the dead of night.

It was I think about you all the time.

It was I miss everything about you.

It was Being with her doesn’t feel the same.

It was I still love you.

The air rushed from my lungs.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

Waiting, praying, for the words to change.

For my eyes to be playing tricks on me.

But they didn’t change.

They sat there, staring back at me like undeniable proof that I had been living in a lie.

Every moment Mason and I had shared, every soft I love you, every late-night conversation, every time he had pulled me close and promised me forever, it had all been meaningless.

I had just been something to fill the space she left behind.

A placeholder.

A distraction.

A way for him to forget the girl he really wanted.

And the worst part?

I never even saw it coming.

I had been so sure of him. So sure of us.

I had loved him with everything I had, blind to the fact that his heart had never really been mine to begin with.

Tears blurred my vision, but I couldn’t cry. Not yet.

Not until I heard the sound of keys jingling at the door.

Mason was home.

And I had a choice to make.

Pretend I hadn’t seen anything, pretend I hadn’t fallen apart while reading his betrayal in black and white.

Or look him in the eye and ask the question I already knew the answer to.

When Mason walked through the door, tired and unsuspecting, his duffel bag slung lazily over his shoulder, I felt my entire body lock up.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his shirt sticking slightly to his skin from the shower he took after training, and for a fleeting second,

I saw the version of him I used to love, the boy who used to make me feel like the center of his world.

But that version of Mason didn’t exist anymore.

He didn’t know it yet, but I had seen everything.

His lips parted slightly when his eyes landed on me, confusion flickering across his face as he took in my stiff posture, the way my arms were crossed tightly over my chest like they were the only thing keeping me together.

His gaze shifted to the coffee table, to where his laptop sat open, the screen still glowing.

He didn’t know yet, but he would.

The air in the room shifted.

"Hey, love." His voice was soft, familiar, too familiar.

Like he hadn’t just shattered me beyond repair.

I didn’t respond.

I reached for the laptop, my movements slow, deliberate, my fingers curling around the edges before I threw it onto the table between us.

The loud smack echoed in the silent apartment.

Mason flinched slightly, his brows knitting together. “What the hell—”

"Tell me the truth." My voice trembled, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

His eyes darted between mine, searching, confused. “Y/n, what—”

I lifted a hand and pointed at the screen, my entire body trembling with the weight of what I had just discovered.

"Don’t. Just tell me the truth."

His eyes flickered down.

And in that moment, I saw everything.

The way his entire body tensed.

The way his face lost its color, his jaw tightening as his throat bobbed.

The way his fingers twitched at his sides, his breathing suddenly uneven.

He didn’t have to say anything.

I already knew.

But I wanted him to say it.

I wanted him to look me in the eye and own what he had done.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, his lips pressing together as if he was trying to find the right words.

"It’s not what you think—"

A bitter laugh burst from my lips before I could stop it.

I felt something inside me snap.

"Not what I think?" I repeated, my voice rising, the disbelief dripping from every syllable.

I jabbed a finger toward the screen, toward her name, toward the messages that had destroyed me.

“So you didn’t tell her you missed her? You didn’t tell her being with me wasn’t the same? You didn’t tell her you still love her?”

Mason inhaled sharply, his lips parting like he wanted to deny it,

God, I wanted him to deny it, but no words came.

His silence was louder than any excuse he could’ve made.

My throat tightened, the lump there threatening to choke me, but I refused to let him see me break.

I had already given him too much of me. I wouldn’t give him this too.

"Was I ever anything more than a rebound to you?" I whispered.

His face crumbled.

"Y/n—"

"Answer me!" I snapped, my voice cracking.

His lips pressed into a thin line. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

And then, hesitation.

Just a second. Just the briefest pause.

But that was all I needed.

I let out a sharp breath, my hands trembling as I wiped at my eyes, willing the tears away.

"I hope she was worth it, Mason." The words felt like acid on my tongue.

I turned away, grabbing my bag from the couch with numb fingers, my entire body screaming at me to run, run, run.

"Y/n, wait—" His voice cracked.

I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, not rough, not forceful, just desperate.

For the first time, I looked at him, really looked at him.

His face was drawn, his eyes wide, pleading.

His grip on my wrist tightened slightly, like he was afraid that if he let go, I’d disappear.

"Please." His voice was barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

"You don’t get to do that," I said, my voice barely steady.

I yanked my wrist free, stepping back.

"You don’t get to break me and then ask me to stay."

Mason exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, through his hair, looking more panicked now.

“I never meant—” He cut himself off like the words physically hurt to say.

I shook my head. “You never meant for me to find out.”

Silence.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t fight for me.

Because he knew.

He knew there was nothing left to fight for.

I felt a sob clawing at my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I refused to break in front of him.

I took a shaky step back. Then another.

"Goodbye, Mason."

And then I turned.

I walked to the door, my steps unsteady, my hands trembling as I reached for the handle.

"Y/n." My name was a whisper, a plea.

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t look back.

And Mason didn’t stop me.

Because he knew, he had already lost me. Lost me forever.

Mason stood there,

This is what he wanted right?

Now he could go back to Charlotte without having to hide it.

But if this was what he wanted, why did he feel so guilty? Why does it feel like he has lost something big? Why was he feeling... regret?

Mason shrugged off those feelings before muttering "She was just a rebound, this is what I wanted right?"

And that was all it took for him to move on.

Well at least for now.

Mason got back together with his ex two weeks later.

At first, it felt right.

She was familiar. She was comfortable. She was the girl he had spent so long missing, the one who had haunted his thoughts even when he was with Y/n.

For a brief moment, he convinced himself he had made the right choice.

But then, the cracks started to show.

The first time he noticed it was during dinner.

They sat across from each other at a high-end restaurant she had insisted on, a place where the food was overpriced and the lighting dim enough to make everything look perfect for Instagram.

Mason had been talking about his match earlier that day, how exhausted he was, how he’d nearly scored but missed by inches.

She didn’t even look up from her phone.

"That’s nice, babe," she murmured, her perfectly manicured fingers typing away.

He stared at her, waiting, expecting her to say more.

She didn’t.

Instead, she snapped a photo of their untouched plates, adjusted the lighting, and posted it with a caption that had nothing to do with him.

That was just the beginning.

The thoughtful gestures, the ones Y/n had done so naturally, were gone.

There were no lazy Sunday mornings where she curled into his chest, tracing mindless patterns on his skin.

No soft kisses just because.

No remembering how he liked his tea or sneaking his favorite snacks into the fridge after a long day.

Charlotte wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t awful. She was just… absent.

It was clear she loved the idea of him, the status, the lifestyle, the way people looked at them when they walked into a room together.

But him? The man behind the footballer, the one with worries and insecurities, the one who needed comfort just as much as anyone else?

She didn’t see him.

And suddenly, Mason realized, he had been chasing a ghost.

The woman he had truly loved, the one who had memorized every detail about him, who had supported him through every loss, who had loved him for the man and not the player, was gone.

Y/n had been that woman.

His Y/n.

And he had thrown her away like she was nothing.

One night, after another meaningless fight, this time over why he wasn’t posting her on social media enough, he sat alone in his apartment, scrolling through his camera roll.

The pictures of Y/n were still there.

Her smile, so genuine.

The way she looked at him like he was her entire world.

The little videos she had taken when he wasn’t paying attention, him cooking, him laughing at something dumb, him asleep with his arm wrapped around her waist like he never wanted to let go.

He had been so loved.

And he had destroyed it.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

Y/n had vanished from his life.

Blocked his number. Deleted their pictures. Disappeared without a trace.

At first, he thought maybe she just needed time.

That eventually, she’d cool down, pick up one of his calls, and answer one of his texts.

She never did.

He tried her best friend.

"She doesn’t want anything to do with you."

He tried her family.

"Mason, you hurt her. Let her go."

Her colleagues, her neighbors, nobody would tell him where she was.

And then, one day, when he came to her house once again he heard one of her neighbors call out for him.

"You should stop trying son. Didn't you hear? She left the country."

His stomach dropped.

"What?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, she moved. Took some big job offer or something. Left everything behind."

Mason’s heart pounded in his chest.

She had left.

His Y/n had left.

Started fresh. Moved somewhere new. Somewhere he could never reach her.

And for the first time in his life, Mason Mount, who had always been able to fix his mistakes, to win people back with a smile or an apology, knew he had lost her forever.

And this time, there was no getting her back.

That night, I made my decision.

I sat in my apartment, staring at the email that had been sitting in my inbox for days.

A job offer.

My dream job. The one I had turned down for him.

For so long, I had let my love for Mason dictate my every move.

I had stayed when I should have gone, let him convince me that we were enough, that we could make a future together.

I had put his dreams, his career, his needs first, and let mine slip into the background.

But that future didn’t exist anymore.

And now? I had nothing left to lose.

So, I took a deep breath, wiped away the last of my tears, tears that had been falling for weeks now, and clicked accept.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of packing, selling off things I didn’t need, and coming to terms with the fact that I was leaving the place that had once felt like home.

It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

"Are you sure about this?" my best friend asked, standing in the middle of my now half-empty apartment.

I exhaled slowly, trying to hold it together.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And I meant it.

The morning of my flight, I did one last thing before leaving.

I blocked Mason. Everywhere.

His number. His Instagram. His Twitter. His email.

I erased him the way he had erased me.

And then I left.

As the plane took off and the city shrank beneath me, I finally felt it. The weight lifting from my chest.

The space inside me that had been filled with doubt, uncertainty, and longing, is now empty but... free.

A new country. A new life. A fresh start.

No more waiting for someone to choose me.

This time, I was choosing myself.

And Mason?

He was just a chapter in a book I had already finished reading.

Mason thought he had made the right choice.

He thought that getting back with his ex would fill the emptiness he felt after losing Y/n, but all it did was magnify the hollowness in his chest.

It was then, in the quiet moments of the night when he lay awake in his bed, that it hit him.

Y/n had been the one.

She had been the one who truly understood him.

The one who saw the person behind the jersey, behind the fame, behind the image.

She was the one who had loved him for him, not for the trophies or the spotlight.

And he had thrown it all away.

He had thrown her away.

But now, it was too late.

The more he tried to convince himself that things were fine, the more he realized that nothing felt right.

His ex wasn’t the person he needed.

And he was so damn lonely.

Training started slipping. He missed passes, lost focus, and the frustration was unbearable.

His coach started noticing, and his teammates were starting to get concerned.

He couldn’t even summon the motivation to push himself. Every match felt pointless, every goal out of reach.

He couldn’t concentrate. His heart wasn’t in it anymore.

His head wasn’t in it. His life wasn’t in it.

And the worst part?

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Y/n.

The way she would smile at him after a tough day, the way her laugh would fill the room like music.

The way she would hold him close when he was stressed or frustrated, as if just being near her was enough to make everything better.

The way she’d remember the smallest details about him, how she would surprise him with his favorite snacks or take care of him when he was sick.

He had taken it all for granted.

And now, he would never have it again.

One night, after yet another argument with his ex, something about him not being “present enough”

Mason sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone.

He had tried calling Y/n again. She didn’t answer.

Of course, she wasn't going to answer.

She had blocked him everywhere, but every day he hoped that for some magical reason, she would've unblocked him everywhere.

He checked his messages, hoping, praying, that maybe, just maybe, she would reach out. But nothing.

It was as if she had vanished from his life completely.

And that’s when the weight of it all crashed down.

He realized that he had let her slip through his fingers, and now, she was gone.

For good.

Days blurred together as Mason sank deeper into his depression. His training was a mess.

His performance on the field was getting worse by the day.

His teammates were starting to notice his lack of focus and his erratic behavior. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

And then, it hit him like a slap in the face.

It was Y/n all along, not Charlotte. Y/n was his girl and not that fame-sucking ex of his.

Mason had spent so long taking her love for granted, thinking it would always be there, thinking he could come back when it suited him.

But now? Now he realized the truth: She had been the love of his life.

And he had lost her.

Forever.

He spent days in his apartment, alone with his thoughts, battling the crushing weight of regret.

He would never see her smile again, never hear her voice telling him that everything would be okay.

He had let the one person who truly loved him slip away because he couldn’t appreciate her until it was too late.

And in the silence of his empty apartment, with nothing but his thoughts and his guilt to keep him company,

Mason finally understood what he had lost.

Y/n.

The girl he had taken for granted. The one who had loved him without hesitation.

The one he would never get back.

The end

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