#never got it past a few hundred words but maybe this is his time. maybe it’s the erer era | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinysunshine · 21 days ago

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[ Klaus Mikaelson x Stripper! Reader ]

18+ (Minors DNI)

*Female Reader, Inclusive Language

You’re a dancer at Klaus’ favorite strip club. He’s one of your best customers, always slipping hundreds into the band of your panties or bra, although he hasn’t asked for a private room with you yet. Klaus Mikaelson is a king around this city - half vampire, half werewolf, the first of his kind. The entire city lives in fear of the big bad wolf. But you can’t deny the curiosity you feel towards the man, the monster, that is Klaus Mikaelson. When he finally books a private room and asks specifically for you, your feelings for him change. Suddenly he doesn’t seem so bad, so scary - or maybe he still is, but every night you spend with him and with each dance, you realize you’re foolishly falling in love with a real-life monster.

*Warnings: violence, death, rough sex, mentions of past abuse

*Plot with porn, Alternate Universe, but don’t worry, Klaus is Klaus :)

Word Count: 12.9k

Kinks: unprotected sex, oral sex, face sitting, rough sex, spanking (just a little), dirty talk, dry humping, creampie, light Dom/sub, protective Klaus

___

The lights in the club are dim, and the bass from the music blasting makes it feel like the floor is vibrating, which makes it a little hard to stay steady on your feet. You’ve been working at the club for almost a year, but you’ve never quite gotten used to what it feels like to be on this stage.

All eyes on you, the heat from the lights above, music so loud that it literally hurts your ears, makes it hard to even hear the lyrics of the song playing, which can sometimes fuck up your dance cues.

On stage, you feel like you’re in a world of your own, and sometimes you don’t know if that’s good or bad. Dancing has always been your passion - although stripping was never your dream. From a young age, you were trained as a ballet dancer, with competitions and private training and practices every day after school; it was your whole life.

But things change and shit happens, and although you’re not where you want to be in life, you’re still doing what you love to do, which is dance, even if it’s not the way you imagined it.

That’s got to count for something, right?

On stage, it’s all about creating a fantasy for the people in the audience. Rich men, successful men, men with high status - they all frequent this club. It’s one of the nicest in the city, but you’ve heard from a few of the other dancers that the men here are no different than the men at the shitter, seedier clubs. It doesn’t matter what a man does for a living, you suppose, because if they’re throwing cash at a girl who’s half naked and desperate to pay her bills - it’s not like they’re a good person.

You’ve learned your lesson with men, and you learned it the hard way. Men will always be men - or whatever fucked up version of masculinity they follow that makes them believe they’re a man. Rude, crude, violent and mean.

But you’ve got bills to pay and money to make, so you do your best to give them a good show.

Especially because he’s in the audience.

Klaus.

At the thought of him, quite literally the man, the myth, the legend - a flurry of butterflies erupts in your stomach. It’s a sinking, almost nauseous feeling, but it’s definitely a feeling that’s a little more good than it is bad.

The thought scares you, that you feel this way about Klaus Mikaelson. That you could associate anything good with him. You’ve heard his name since you were a teenager, back when he first came to this city and, well…

Ruined everything.

You spin around the pole and do your regular routine, legs aching in the skyscraper heels you're wearing, tits almost spilling out of your tiny bra. Your head is pounding because the music is so loud, and by the time you’re on your knees collecting the bills thrown on stage like you’re some kind of performing animal in a zoo, you’re covered in sweat, feeling sticky and over-touched and very much like you need a drink.

You’re thinking about Klaus your entire break. It gets so fucking hot in the club, with all the people and the smoke and the movement you do. You chug some water, fix your makeup, stand in front of the fan in the back room to cool down as much as you can, but he never leaves your mind.

Because you know he’s waiting for you.

It’s been going on almost two months now, this thing you have with Klaus Mikaeslon. Although thing is a generous word for it. You work almost every night during the week, and Klaus visits the club almost every night. You’re not sure if it’s to see you in particular, but you’re fairly certain that no other dancer goes near him.

Because everybody hates him.

Klaus Mikaelson has the city in the palm of his hand. When he strolled into town years ago, what was once a bustling, wonderful place to live slowly turned sour until what was left of it was just plain rotten. Klaus brought violence, mayhem, and a harem of other dangerous supernatural creatures along with him when he moved into town, and destruction came along with them.

You’re not sure what brought him to this specific city, just that it changed life as you know it. Klaus brought death, destroyed lives, and while a lot of the things that happened didn’t come from his hand directly, he’s the cause of all of it.

Nobody wants to serve him a drink, let alone dance for him. It doesn’t matter how much he tips - the other girls want nothing to do with him. Everyone blames Klaus for all the problems in their life. Why they’re working a dead end exploitative job, why they can’t find a happy relationship, why they’re trapped in this town. It’s valid hatred, and you understand it, would be the first to preach about the way your life has changed since he moved into town.

But you think differently than the others. Because while they all see the bars of the cage the entire town is trapped in, in Klaus Mikaelson, you see your freedom. The tips he gives you, that you’ve been stashing away, are going to be your ticket out of this town. While the bartender and the bouncer need to be compelled to let him in and bring him drinks, you go to Klaus willingly.

Because even though Klaus carries violence everywhere he goes, even though he could crush this town and everyone in it with ease, even a monster like him isn’t desperate enough to compel every single person working at a strip club to give him a good time.

That’d be pathetic, and you don’t know a lot about Klaus, but you know that pathetic is the last thing you’d use to describe him.

This thing you have with him is nothing more than three dances whenever he’s at the bar. Three dances is as long as you’re allowed to dance for someone without them getting a private room - club rules. Klaus never asks for a private room, but that’s fine by you.

Usually, by the end of those three dances, you’re no less than eight hundred dollars cash richer.

It does something to you, knowing that this monster sits around the club waiting for you. Or, when your insecurity is talking, you think that maybe he just settles for you, not down quite bad enough to compel a girl to dance for him. Maybe you’re just the low hanging fruit who’s willing.

You push those thoughts away as you make your way through the haze of cigarette smoke and neon lights to the far end of the club. Klaus is at an open booth, tucked away from the others, and when you see him, you lose your breath. He’s got a calm demeanor that only someone truly powerful could have - leaning back, drink in hand, and when he sees you, his lips twitch into something between a smirk and a half-hearted smile.

“You’re late,” Klaus says, his voice low, teasing, because it’s not like you have a set time to see each other whenever you’re working, although it is a little later than you normally meet up.

But you blush, flattered by the teasing tone, but also a little scared. You might have this thing with Klaus, but he’s still an unpredictable supernatural being that can do more bad than good. You could really get hurt if he lost his temper around you.

And it’s not like anyone at the bar would be able to stop him.

It’s a terrifying thought, but you try to play it off. “My set ran late,” you explain, the stories you’ve heard about Klaus killing people for less than making him wait going through your mind.

But then he grins, and you know he’s just teasing, so you step between his open legs, place your hands on his shoulders. He’s handsome, annoyingly so, and you wonder how such an attractive man can be so dangerous. It just doesn’t seem right.

It’s hard to breathe around Klaus. Whether that’s from fear, or something else, you’re not sure. The air between you both has always been charged, thick with something unsaid. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You’ve been trying to ignore this feeling for months, but you’re not stupid. You can see the way Klaus watches you, waits for you, the way he slips his cash into your thong or bra, with hands that are soft despite the violence they can hold, the way his gaze lingers just a moment too long even when the dance is done, or before it’s even started - like he wants to touch but doesn’t know how to do it without making a mistake. Without scaring you off.

It’s different from the way the other men at the club touch you. Different from the way they look at you, with lust in their eyes and their hands rough and selfish. There’s something soft about the way Klaus handles you, and maybe you’re just crazy for thinking so, and maybe it’s just a mask Klaus wears to hide his truly dark nature - but you’ve been dancing for him for months. Surely the mask would’ve slipped by now?

There’s something refreshing, you think, about the beast that is Klaus Mikaelson. He’s a bad person, and that’s all there is to it. There’s no faking, no lies. He is what he is.

“Don’t worry, love,” he says, reaching out and touching you. It took him three weeks to actually put his hands on you, and even then it was only for giving you your tip. He’s gotten more comfortable as time goes on, and right now he grips your hips, although gently.

You’ve gotten used to the feeling of random hands on your body, so much so that you don’t even notice when someone is touching you half the time, but you do notice when Klaus touches you. There’s no way you couldn’t. You feel it, deeper than just the touch it is, because his hands aren’t random, and the electricity that you try to ignore that he carries in each touch isn’t random either.

He moves his hands from your hips, slides them up to your waist, before letting go completely. He smirks. “I know you’re just giving me a chance to miss you,” he says, before reaching in his pocket for his wallet.

His touch leaves goosebumps, even when you’re burning hot.

“What did you think of my dance?” You ask, while Klaus grabs a chunky stack of cash out of his wallet. Unlike the other men at the club, who only hand you cash when they want something or want an excuse to touch you, who try to be graceful about it and look for the right moment, there’s something almost clumsy about the way Klaus handles the money. Practically throws it at you, before you’ve even done anything to earn it yet.

He stuffs them into the band of your panties on your hip, trails his hand up to your bra where he puts some more, and then looks up at you from his seat and motions for you to turn around.

“Spin around, sweetheart, let me see you from behind,” he orders, and you do as he says, ignoring the arousal you feel at his demand. You refuse to believe, refuse to even entertain, the idea that a man like Klaus Mikaelson could ever turn you on. “I thought you were brilliant, as always. You’re like a goddess up there,” he says as you turn around for him.

It’s a nice compliment, even if it does come from the terror of the town. Being on the stage, being a stripper - it feels demeaning a lot of times. Like you’re a piece of meat. But Klaus calling you a goddess, well, it makes you feel like you’re on a pedestal to be admired instead of owned.

And you needed to hear that tonight.

___

“I heard him call her by a nickname. I walked past them the other night, and he was smiling and laughing. They joke with each other. God, she makes me sick,” you hear as you get off the stage, walking into the back room to put your cash in your locker. You just had an amazing set, and your body is sore and you’re sweaty but you feel good.

Nights like these are rare. Feeling good is rare, to be honest. You were hoping to drag the feeling out a little longer, but no such luck.

Can’t say you’re surprised.

You’re trying not to let it bother you, that the girls you work with are so hard on you, seem to really dislike you, but you can’t really blame them. People caught on pretty quickly, that you’re the only dancer in the club willing to dance with Klaus, and since they hate him so much the hatred spills over onto you.

You think that some of their fear does too.

“I can hear you, you know,” you tell the girls, and they just shrug, one of them scurrying off because she’s too nervous to face you, the bolder one coming closer while you open your locker.

“I don’t care,” she says, although spits is a more accurate description. “How can you dance for him? He’s ruined our town. Our lives. Did you forget that, Y/N, or did he compel you? We’re all worried about you,” she says, as if she really gives a fuck about you or your safety.

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel the same way, deep down. Because she’s right, and you know she is, but you can’t control the pull you have to this awful man.

Still, you’re defensive.

“I’ll do what I have to do to get the fuck out of this town,” you finally snap, not looking the other woman in the face. You’re mad, but you’re not brave, and confrontation has never been your thing. “I have a plan, unlike you, and if dancing for Klaus Mikaelson is going to get me there, I’ll do it. It sure beats being on his bad side,” you say, slamming your locker shut.

It’s impossible to leave town without money, but it’s also impossible to make money in a town like this. Under the thumb of someone like Klaus, controlled by his army of hybrids so nobody dares leave the borders of the city - it’s security so nobody gets out of town and spills the truth of what happens here. Klaus and his hybrids make it impossible to get ahead.

But you’re getting there. Slowly but surely. You really believe, or want to believe, that you’re going to be okay.

Because it’ll be hard to leave with money, but without it - it’ll be truly impossible.

“Whatever,” your fellow dancer says, acting as if you didn’t snap on her. “Just don’t forget why you’re dancing in Pleasers instead of ballet slippers. It’s because of him.”

You walk past her on your way out, funny enough, you think sarcastically, to go see Klaus. You always know when he arrives because the entire club is on edge, and the looks you get from the girls and the managers make it pretty obvious, what they think about you and what you’re doing with him.

When you get to Klaus, you’re upset, and you don’t waste time with pleasantries. You’re worried, that the little chats you two have, the humanity you’re starting to see in Klaus Mikaelson, is ruining your judgment of him. He’s killed half the town, has control of every aspect of this city, and you can’t forget that.

While you dance for him, on him, feel the touch of his hands and the drag of his cash against your skin, you keep reminding yourself of that. Like a mantra, on repeat. He’s a bad man, he’s a bad man, he’s a bad man. It gets worse when you grind against his lap and feel a rush of arousal, knowing that your nipples are hard against the fabric your bra and Klaus can most definitely see.

He's a bad man, he’s a bad man, he’s a bad man. But then it’s his last dance, and he’s just slipped a hundred dollar bill into the back of your thong, and his hands are running up and down the smooth skin of your thigh, and all you feel is pure, animalistic desire.

“Pretty little thing you are,” Klaus remarks, looking at you with an expression no murdering psychopathic werewolf vampire hybrid should be allowed to wear. “Absolutely gorgeous. Going to have to get one of my hybrids to rob another bank if you take any more cash from me,” he says, but you don’t laugh. You don’t know if he’s kidding or not.

Klaus hands you an extra tip when the dance is over, and he opens his mouth to say something when one of your managers walks over. Barry. Slimy and annoying and misogynistic and disgusting. You don’t see him a lot, since his business partner usually runs things, but when he is around you know it’s probably going to be a shitty shift.

“Y/N,” he says, and you freeze. What happened to using your stage name only? What happened to trying to keep a low profile, to not have any stalkers or the fucking villain of the city knowing your real name? Barry is such a fucking dumbass.

Still, you bite your tongue, ready to reply, when his hand lands on your shoulder. You’re still between Klaus’ legs, standing while he sits, and you can see the look on his face when Barry touches you. It’s strange, coming from the same guy that watches you dance for a hundred other men each night on stage, the same man that watches those men touch you and give you money just like he does.

But there’s fire in his eyes. Anger. And for the first time ever, you feel genuinely scared around Klaus.

You step towards Barry, and you know that move probably pisses Klaus off even more, even though you’re not really sure why he’s mad.

“Sorry, Mr. Mikaelson,” Barry says, totally unapologetic. Idiotic, that he doesn’t know he’s looking the grim reaper right in the face. “Someone’s requesting, Y/N. Private dance,” and Klaus just nods, but that look never leaves his eye.

You bid Klaus goodbye, thank him for his money, and follow Barry towards the private rooms. But you almost trip, only graceful on stage in these stupid fucking shoes, and Barry grabs your arm to steady you, drags you to the back rooms so fast it’s hard to even keep up.

…

A few days go by, and Barry doesn’t show up to his next shift.

Another few days go by, without anyone having heard from him.

The next day, there’s a news report for the neighboring town over, since this city doesn’t bother with its own news anymore. The body of a gentleman’s club owner was found in the lake. Body being the key word, because he was missing a head.

Barry.

You call in sick for work for the next three days, and you spend most of those days puking and shaking in your bed.

When you return to work, you’re given a locker far away from the others, and the other dancers, your manager and the bartenders all avoid you like you have the plague.

Just as well. You like your own space anyway.

___

“Why are you working here?” Klaus asks, his hand gripping your ass. You feel him slide his finger under the band of your thong, and then there’s the sharp feeling of cash poking into your skin that you know all too well.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You wonder if you should be honest, spit in his face (metaphorically, of course), tell him this job is your only chance at making enough money to escape from this hell hole of a city he created. That the other jobs you’re qualified for won’t pay enough to even make your rent.

But you know better, and most of all, you know men. Klaus thinks he’s complimenting you, by hinting that you’re too good for a place like this. Too good to shake your ass, to show off your breasts, to let some of the worst men in the city put their hands on you.

You’re also smart enough to know that even though it’s been three months since Klaus started coming in, since you started dancing for him - it doesn’t mean you’re friends. Doesn’t mean he won’t snap your neck if you look at him wrong, or have one of his hybrids follow you home if he can’t even be bothered to kill you himself.

Klaus doesn’t want anyone leaving the city, in fear that he’ll lose control, you suspect. Regardless of the special shared looks between you two, the electric feeling when you touch, you know he wouldn’t take kindly to you admitting you’re stripping to save up cash to find a way out of his dominion, because even if it’ll be hard to leave with money, the journey without it would be so much worse.

You wonder what to reply with, because you can tell he’s waiting for a response, even as you bend down and flick your hair, the smell of your perfume strong since you’re already breaking a sweat.

It’s a stripper trick, perfume under your hair, on your hairline. You notice that when you smell good, you get more tips.

Men are so easy.

You settle for something vague to answer Klaus, not wanting to divulge too much for your own safety.

“I like to dance,” you say, watching the way Klaus watches your movements. “I was a ballerina.” His eyes are on your waist, your lower back when you bend over, the way his gaze travels down your leg to your shoes. You prop your foot, in your ridiculous heels, onto the space next to him, and he runs his hand from your knee to your ankle.

It’s sensual, the feeling of his slightly rough fingers against your soft skin. Under the lights, the body glitter you’re wearing makes it look like your skin is made of sparkles, and the admiration in his gaze makes you weak in the knees. You’re literally shaking, but Klaus steadies you with a hand around your ankle, playing with the anklet you’ve got on. “Nice feet for a dancer,” he teases, catching a glimpse of the polish on your toes.

In a move more intimate than anything he’s done in the three months you’ve been dancing for him, he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right by your knee, his eyes never leaving yours.

You’re not breathing. You’re not moving. The music is blasting and it’s actually one of your favorite songs to dance to, but all you can think about is the fact that this creature - the one that’s the cause of nightmares for the people of this town, the name you used to associate with panic and anxiety, just pressed a soft kiss to your leg.

Klaus lets go of your ankle, gently drops your foot to the floor, and leans back in his seat. Legs spread, even his sitting stance powerful, confident.

Sexy.

You don’t know what to do. Luckily for you, Klaus tells you.

“Show me your best, tiny dancer,” he says, tipping his chin towards you. It’s a cheesy nickname, funny coming from someone like him, but your body heats at his use of it anyway.

“Let me see you move.”

___

“Am I the reason those girls are giving you nasty looks?” Klaus asks, and you pause whatever shimmy move you were doing while straddling his lap. It takes a second for you to understand what he’s really asking.

You follow his gaze to the stage, where there’s three other dancers standing by the edge of it, looking at you like you’re the devil himself.

Or, you realize, there’s a better chance that they’re glaring at the devil whose lap you’re straddling.

You shrug.

Because Klaus is right - he is the reason those girls are giving you nasty looks. You didn’t think he could possibly ruin anything else, but when he started coming to the club, you realized that you were so, so wrong. Because by thinking that, that you were untouchable from the drama Klaus created, you created more.

He has to know that. Hasn’t lived a thousand years by being stupid. Klaus must realize that by engaging in whatever thing you two have going on, it’s making your life at work worse, but you doubt he’d care anyway. You know it’s just a dance to him, something to kill the time when he’s not out destroying anything, but deep down -

You know it’s more. More of what, you’re not sure, but there’s something there that goes beyond just dancing. You’ve spent time with Klaus almost every night for the past four months. Keeping a thousand year old hybrid’s attention for that long has got to count for something, so you decide, fuck it.

Klaus has killed for you, and the thought gives you shivers. You can be a big girl and put yourself out there, because the honest truth?

Life really couldn’t get any worse.

“You are,” you reply, hands gripping his shoulders. He doesn’t feel like you thought he would, being a vampire and all. You imagined a hard body, made of stone, cold to the touch. Klaus feels strong and solid but warm, like a real man. The thought turns you on more than it should. You shouldn’t be getting turned on by Klaus at all.

This is a job. But never claimed to be the smartest.

“Nobody likes you,” you admit, and it just kind of comes out.

Quickly, you try to recover. “I just mean that, you know, when you came into town,” where the fuck are you supposed to go from here to save face? The last thing you want to do is upset him, make life even worse for yourself, but it still comes out. “They don’t like me because of you.”

You hold your breath, ready for Klaus to throw you off his lap. Snap your neck. Bite you with one of those deadly werewolf bites people keep popping up with around the town. There’s a waiting list, of people begging for some of Klaus’ magic, all healing blood.

Maybe you’re next.

But nothing violent ever comes. Instead, Klaus laughs.

Throws his head back, like you just told the joke of the century. You don’t need to look around the packed club to know that everyone is looking at you now, and your body heats up in embarrassment. So long, shivers of arousal.

Klaus stops laughing and looks at you, intense, and you realize it’s one of the first times you’ve made eye contact with him. Serious eye contact, beyond just looking at each other when your tits are on his face or when you thank him for the cash.

You look away first.

“You’re not like them,” Klaus says, but he says it almost like a question. You know he’s talking about the other dancers, and you agree - you feel different from them, always have. Have never quite fit in with the crowd, especially with other girls your age. You’ve always been a little standoffish - awkward your mother used to say.

You imagine what she’d have to say about you right now.

“I know,” you say back, eyes focused on the necklaces around Klaus’ neck. You’re too frozen, too nervous, to say anything else. To meet his gaze again. Something about what’s happening feels crazy intimate, which sounds insane because you shake your ass in his face most nights, but this simple conversation is breaking down walls of emotions you haven’t addressed for years.

“You’re not scared of me,” he continues, and you shake your head because he’s wrong.

“I am,” you reply.

Klaus is silent for a moment, studying your face, looking around the room for reasons you don’t understand. Then he lifts your chin, forces you to meet his eyes.

“If I get a room,” he asks, and at that, you feel your heart beating faster. It only took four months. “Can we talk?”

That’s the scariest thing he’s asked for since you’ve known him. Talk. You’re not sure you’d be a good conversationalist.

But you nod anyway, secretly wonder if he compelled you because you agreed so easily, or maybe it’s just because you’re curious. Wonder what this man could possibly want with you, what he could possibly want to say to you or hear from you.

You lead him to the private room and hold out your hand for the payment. Klaus sits down on the couch when you close the door, and he looks at you with an expression like he can’t believe you don’t trust that he’ll pay after the dance.

You know he’s good for the money, but it’s just club protocol. But something about his face, offended, makes you want to giggle.

So the legend that is Klaus Mikaleson gets his feelings hurt. Good to know.

“Jen wants it in the box before we dance,” you explain, referring to your other manager. Klaus clicks his tongue and takes his wallet out, hands over a stack of cash that you don’t even bother counting. Your mind is too caught up on the fact that the news reported another bank robbery in the neighboring town, and you wonder if that’s where the cash in your hand is from.

Wonder if Klaus is expanding his territory.

But those thoughts are all wiped away when Klaus speaks as you turn your back to him, place the money in a little box with a digital code so your manager can grab it when you’re done in the room. There’s a switch, and you turn the light on, signaling that the room is in use.

“Jen. Seems like Barry is no longer working here?” Klaus asks, his voice is dripping with humor, and even though you dont give a fuck about Barry, like, at all - it just reminds you who you’re sharing a room with. Makes you a little sick to your stomach, and you grip the counter you’re standing at to gain your composure, to take a deep breath.

Then you turn to face Klaus.

It’s now or never. It’s time to talk to him, because that’s what he seems to want. As you get closer to him, as the electricity between you grows stronger with each step, the way he looks at you, with warm eyes that don’t belong to monsters, you have to remind yourself of your mantra. He’s a bad man, he's a bad man, he’s a bad man.

But you sit beside him on the sofa anyway.

“Why did you do it?” You ask, referring to Barry, but you both know that you already know the answer. Klaus reaches out, more confident in the private room away from the crowds, you realize. But most men are. You suppose that there’s more similarities between a monster like Klaus and the average man, and that’s a terrifying thought - but one you’re not very surprised by.

Klaus grips your thigh and moves you closer to him and your breath hitches. His touch does things to you. Makes the tiny hairs on your arm stand up, makes arousal pool deep in your belly in a way it doesn’t, hasn’t, when any other man touches you.

“He grabbed you,” Klaus says calmly, like he’s telling you about his day, and not the reasons he beheaded the manager at your job. “Frankly, he’s annoying. Thought that before I saw him with you, but then I watched the way he looked at you, treated you,” he pauses, hand creeping up your thigh.

You wonder how far Klaus is going to go. With what he’s revealing by what he’s saying, and because of how close his hand is to the inside of your thigh, going higher and higher to your pussy that’s only covered by a thin layer of lace.

“But most importantly,” Klaus says, with a little shrug of his shoulders like he’s embarrassed to admit this part and is trying to play it off. “He tried to interrupt my time with you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing. You wish you cared more about Barry’s death, but you just don’t. It’s been a long time since you cared about anything, and maybe you’re just hardened from this fucked up world you’ve been living in, but it’s not like the world would miss someone like Barry.

“Why now?” You ask, wondering why now was finally the time Klaus pulled the trigger to get a room with you. “Why wait months to get a private room with me?” You really don’t want to sound insecure, but it’s been months of just wondering.

Wondering why Klaus comes to the club only to see you - wondering if you’re his first choice or just the only choice, wondering if he feels the chemistry between you two that’s so thick you could probably slice it with a knife.

Wonders if he thinks about you when he’s not around you - because you can’t stop thinking about him.

“I wanted you to be comfortable with me,” he answers honestly, and you actually laugh. It’s funny, that the terrifying force in this city wants you to be comfortable, but his plan worked. You are comfortable with him. Comfortable with someone who some people in this city view as the grim reaper himself.

“You caught my eye,” he continues, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It’s a little ridiculous, that you’ve been almost naked in front of him every night, yet an arm around your shoulders makes you feel more vulnerable.

But maybe that’s because it’s also a step closer to snapping your neck.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a thousand years, and I wanted to get closer to you,” he admits.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

Not for what that confession means, not for what the arm around your shoulders feels like after the words leave his mouth. There’s something safe about it, something warm - because if the boogeyman is on your side, there’s no possible way you could be hurt by him.

“There’s something different about you,” he says, just stroking over the skin of your leg. He’s so much bigger than you, and you’re against his side, and you’re feeling a lot like prey being hunted by a predator. Except this predator has already got you, and you’ve spent so much time hiding and running and just trying to survive that being able to admit defeat actually feels good.

This predator is the strongest thing on earth. He could kill you right now if he wanted to, but instead he’s complimenting you.

How can you even begin to wrap your head around that information?

“I sense it, Y/N. What a beautiful name, by the way. I guess we have Barry to thank for one thing, telling me who you really are,” as he talks, you swear you’re shaking. You don’t know how to react in this moment, have spent so much time not reacting to anything for fear of feeling anything negative, that you’re not even sure if this is a negative or positive situation.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, because that’s obviously what this is. Klaus wants something from you, because he’s a man, isn’t he? A hybrid but a man, and they never just give, whether it’s a compliment or a dollar, without wanting something in return.

But Klaus shakes his head.

“I think I’m in a better position to be asking that question, love. I have a lot to give. What do you want from me?”

___

Klaus pays for a private room three nights a week, but he stops his other visits, doesn’t watch you do your regular set anymore.

At first, you were worried, wondered where he was, because you’re beyond playing dumb now.

You like him.

Where is the line between good and evil? Klaus is bad, in every way, but he’s never been bad to you. In fact, he’s treated you better than anyone has treated you in a long time. Maybe ever. You’ve never known harm at his hands.

It’s been a month of late night meetings. An hour together in the private rooms, three times a week, where you just…talk, mostly.

Klaus asked what he could do for you, and you told him the truth.

You want out of this town. You want out of this job. You want out of this life, struggling to pay bills, scared to walk alone in the city at night for fear of one of his uncontrollable hybrids coming to kill you.

Slowly, Klaus begins to understand who you are. Where you’re coming from, even if he does tense up when you mention that your end goal is to leave what he believes to be his paradise.

You tell him that your only goal in life was to be a professional dancer. That before he came into town, you were accepted into a performing arts school for ballet. How you were so excited, ready to leave this town behind because even before Klaus came, you wanted out.

Never got along with your parents, had been hurt at the hands of men that you thought loved you. It was time for you to live your life - until the borders around the city were guarded by Klaus’ hybrids, and any chance of leaving slowly slipped through your fingers.

Dancing was your out back then, and it’s turning out to be your out now.

“Where are your parents?” Klaus asked, and you were silent for a moment, looking down at your lap. He waited, patiently, for you to answer.

“One of your hybrids killed them,” you admit, not wanting to get into details.

Klaus brushes some hair away from your face, and with no sympathy in his voice, he softly says, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything further.

You’re not sorry, but you’d never admit that to anyone. It’s hard to even admit it to yourself. They were horrible people, but they were still your parents. It’s better not to think about them at all.

You’ll never be able to forgive Klaus Mikaeslon for the horrors he’s created, the things he’s done, but you can’t deny the way you feel around him. Excited, whether that be from nerves or something better. It’s just nice to feel something at all.

So you talk during these private sessions, although he doesn’t share much. And when things get to be too much, too vulnerable and too open and too personal for the both of you, you turn on the music and dance for him.

Although, as the sessions go on, it’s not so much dancing as it is foreplay - or something like that.

You still haven’t kissed, but you’ve done almost everything else. Have rubbed yourself, to orgasm, against the roughness of his jeans. Practically humped his leg. Your panties are thin and it was easy to get there, especially with the way he gripped your hips, moved you back and forth like he was thrusting inside of you.

You still get shivers when you think about his voice while you got there, “That’s it,” he’d said, accent thick and voice so dominant it nearly snatched the whine right out of your mouth. “There you go. What a good girl. Make yourself cum like this. It’ll be the real thing before you know it, love.” Klaus has the filthiest mouth - what it can say, and what it can do.

You’re not even sure how it happens. Just that sex isn’t allowed in the back rooms so you do everything but. You don’t know how you go from talking to cumming on his leg, how you go from sharing mundane stuff about yourself to sitting on his face, but it just happens.

Like magnets. You can’t stay away.

He unclipped your bra once, while you were mid story, pulled you from the couch onto his lap and sucked your nipples into his mouth until you were begging him for something. More. Anything. Even if it was just to get him off, you needed to do it. Couldn’t just sit around desperate for him to touch you.

So he laid back on the couch, told you to climb up his body and settle on his face like the queen you were. “King of this city, you called me?” He teased, nuzzling the inside of your thigh with his face. The slight stubble on his skin rubbing against your innermost leg was delicious. “Guess my face is fit for a queen. Sit down, sweetheart. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s a thousand years old - how many women has he orally serviced? A lot, you imagine, because you’ve never felt anything quite like that. Nothing has ever felt so good, but he’s had a lot of practice.

The memory makes your pussy weep with want.

It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that someone who has the potential for so much hurt, touches you so softly. How someone who’s caused so much, can bring so much pleasure.

But it’s those extremes that make it so hot.

It’s so wrong, that you’re doing these things with Klaus Mikaelson. But it feels so right.

“What do you want from me?” You ask again tonight, sitting on his lap while he keeps your thighs open, plays with your pussy right there on his lap. It’s erotic almost, how gentle he’s being, like he’s just exploring you. There’s no build up, no ulterior notice as far as you know.

You’re just getting to know each other.

Klaus ignores your question completely, knuckle brushing over your clit, swollen with want. He ignores the gasp you let you.

“You know why we always meet here, don’t you?” He says instead of answering you. You furrow your brows, grip his shoulder, shake your head. Klaus answers.

“Because I don’t want anyone knowing who you are.” He means his hybrids. His army. His family.

His answer stings for a minute, for the rest of the night actually, even when Klaus makes you cum from his fingers and sucks them into his mouth to get the taste of you off of them. He tips you enough cash that your wallet literally can’t close.

But what did you expect? You’re a stripper, and he’s Klaus, and he probably does this with a bunch of girls, your insecure brain screams out.

Of course he wouldn’t introduce you to anyone important to him. What did you think this was?

He just enjoys your company because you let him touch you. That’s it.

But then you get home, to your shitty apartment, and you turn on the news. You count your cash on your bed, cold and hungry, too afraid to go out tonight and grab something to eat since you didn’t make it grocery shopping earlier these last few days.

But that’s when you realize what he meant.

Three men murdered, the news says, but you don’t hear the little details. You don’t really care, to be honest. All you hear is, Killed because of their involvement with Klaus Mikaelson, and now you get it. There’s been people rising up against him, wanting to take the city back. Which is a good thing, you know, but you’re stupidly happy about your realization.

Klaus was trying to keep you safe.

___

“No boyfriend tonight?”

A regular at the club, one whose name you don’t remember, grabs your arm as you get off the stage. Usually, there’s backup from the other girls or even a manager or security, but nobody likes you or trusts you enough to help you out.

Fuck them all.

You pull out of the man’s grasp and begin walking to the bar, hoping for a drink, but he won’t leave you alone. “I notice you’ve been hogging the private rooms. Nobody can get a dance from you,” he says, and once you’re at the bar, you sit at the barstool, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

Klaus won’t admit it if you ask, not that you would, but you know he’s the reason you always get a private room whenever you want. He compels the managers, or whoever he needs to.

You wish you had that talent.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m just busy,” you tell the man, flagging the bartender down, who looks like he plans on ignoring you, just like the rest of the dancers and everyone else.

The man scoffs. You try to remember his name. Martin, maybe? You meet a lot of men. And it’s not like this one is anyone special.

“You think you’re too good for me now,” he says, which means you must’ve met him or danced privately for him before. The thought makes you disgusted with yourself.

“Ever since you became the whore of that creature, you’re suddenly too good for the rest of us. Sorry we don’t have buckets of money to hand you like he does. It’s only because he’s stolen from us and our families. Does he pay to fuck you too? I’m sure I can afford that. Ever since you got with him, you’ve even been a shitty dancer,” and he keeps ranting.

You’ve had enough.

A lot of what he said is true, But that creature comment, the dancing comment? The fact that he’d even think he ever has a chance of fucking you?

Fuck no. You just react, and before you realize what you’re doing, you toss a drink in his face.

Which is when shit hits the fan. He charges at you, throws you off the chair, is about to yank you up by the hair when he’s suddenly on the ground.

You’re scared to open your eyes.

“Up you get, love,” you hear, in a voice that’s familiar. You’d know that accent anywhere - it’s been in your ear almost every night for half a year.

Klaus.

A bar full of people claiming to be better than him, claiming to be worried about you - and not a single one of them tried to help you when you were almost attacked just now.

But the villain in their lives, the monster that has them all losing sleep - he came to your rescue.

What does that say about the character of everyone else?

You don’t care about playing cool anymore. Klaus bends at the knees, looks at you with a worried expression, and offers his hand. You take it, and once you’re standing you throw yourself into his arms.

What a fool you are, hugging this beast of a man, but you don’t care. You were scared just now. More scared than you’ve ever been around Klaus.

“Why are you here so early?” You ask, pulling away just slightly to look at Klaus’ face. Everyone at the club is cowering in the far corners of the building, and you know why.

The fuck that tried to attack you is dead. You heard the snap. Klaus snapped his neck and he kicks him aside so you have more room to stand, like he’s nothing more than a piece of dirt under his shoe.

There’s something symbolic about that, you think. You’ve never had someone stand up for you like Klaus, and you wonder what your life would be like if you had someone standing up for you like this in your past when you needed it.

Klaus doesn’t answer. He’s looking at your arm, where there will no doubt be a bruise from where Martin grabbed you. He’s red in the face, looks so mad you’re worried he’s going to burn down the bar, but the thought doesn’t scare you.

No, it brings you peace. You’re done with this place. This club. The people here.

Fuck. Them. All.

“You should go home,” Klaus says, and you nod your head, but then he pulls away from you. Walks around the club, threatening every single person in the room.

“If someone lays a hand on this woman again - if someone so much as looks at her wrong on her way out of here, I will kill you and every person you love. I’ll kill you and every person you’ve ever met,” his voice is cold, and you know he’s serious.

A good girl would feel bad, that violence is being threatened by the people here. But maybe you’re not good. Maybe it just took someone like Klaus to get you to see that. People can have all sorts of layers, all sorts of labels - but nobody is truly bad or good.

People are people, and they do bad things. Some do good things. But all that really matters, you think, is what they do to you.

And Klaus Mikaelson, hybrid savage, has been nothing but good to you.

He walks back to you and tells you to collect your things, that he’ll figure out a way to get you home. You’re not worried about anyone finding out you’re with him, what that could mean for you.

No, all you’re thinking about is how you can show Klaus just how grateful you are that he saved you.

In more ways than just the way he saved you tonight.

___

“I hope you’re not mad,” Klaus says, following you into the back room. It’s empty, because nobody with half a mind would follow Klaus after his threat.

The peace is marvelous, even though you’re shaken up by what just happened.

You open your locker, grab your bag out of it and make sure you still have your cash from your earlier set. When Martin pushed you, (rest in hell, Martin), the cash you had on you completely fell out. You don’t doubt that some of the greedy girls you work with probably already scooped it up.

Truly disgusting. You can’t wait to get out of here and never return. What you’re going to do, you’re not sure, but you’re a survivor. You’ll figure it out.

You always have.

“Mad?” You question Klaus, zipping up your bag when you confirm all your belongings are together. You face him, and his expression reads like he can’t believe you’re pretending to be confused. He just killed a man in front of you.

Which was an exaggerated reaction, in any case. Klaus didn’t have to snap his neck. He could’ve just beat him up, or thrown him out of the club, now that you think about it.

But you still don’t feel bad. Like Barry, the world won’t miss a guy like Martin.

“I’m not mad at all,” you promise, because you’re not. You’ve changed, and that much is obvious. Whether it be from Klaus, from this town, from something else entirely - you don’t know. Maybe you’ve always just been bad, deep down, and that’s why things turned out the way they did. Maybe that’s what your parents saw in you all along, why they treated you the way they did.

Why everyone in your life has always treated you poorly.

When Klaus stays silent, you slam your locker. “Martin had it coming. Follow me?”

Klaus is speechless, but he obeys, which is crazy in itself. The man that can’t be tamed, following you down the hall to the private rooms. You both enter, and when the door closes and you lock it behind you, you toss your bag on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Klaus questions, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks unsure. He hasn’t carefully crafted this moment, isn’t in control of it, and you wonder how that feels for someone like him. He’s spent the last few years, no, his whole life, trying to be in charge of every single situation. Making an entire city his prisoners, just so he can come out on top.

The thought turns you on. You’re done pretending - because there’s nothing that gives you as big of a rush as having the big, bad hybrid wrapped around your little finger. It’s obvious now, that whatever little crush you have on Klaus, he reciprocates. And he helped you tonight, stood up for you, was on your side.

Besides, death happens all the time in this city these days. So what if Martin is dead. He can join Barry in hell. No one has ever stood up for you before, and you’re going to ride the high, the feeling of someone caring about you, for as long as possible.

“Thank you for protecting me tonight,” you tell Klaus, walking towards him. He’s already on the couch, and you waste no time plopping yourself down on one of his legs, your rightful seat on his lap. He wraps an arm around you, rests his hand on your hip. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.”

Maybe it’s pathetic to admit, that no one has ever cared for you as much as Klaus has, when he’s really only paid to watch you dance and talk and cum. But it’s the truth, and you think you owe him that much for what he did for you tonight.

What he’s been doing for you, since he arrived at the club. Whether he realizes it or not.

“I don’t like hearing that,” he says, which is not the reply you expected. You look at him, feel his fingers stroking gently over the skin of your hip like he can’t not touch you. “I don’t like knowing you’ve never had anyone to protect you before.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you don’t say anything. Instead, you drop from his lap to your knees in front of him. You’re quick as you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, go to unzip his pants - but Klaus tries to stop you.

“What are you doing?” He asks again, as if it’s not obvious. But you know what he means. This isn’t a normal reaction to what just happened, but what about this situation is normal? Klaus is immortal, part fucking wolf, and you’re a stripper who’s about to put his cock in your mouth.

“Thanking you, Klaus,” you say softly, a strange confidence overtaking you. Maybe that’s all you needed to feel better about yourself. To be more sure of yourself. Maybe all you needed was someone to show they cared, even just a smidge. Even just an inch.

“Y/N,” he warns, even as you take his hard cock in your hand. He’s already turned on, and you realize it’s from what just happened in the main room of the club. Klaus gets turned on from violence, from hurting other people - and apparently you get turned on that violence and hurting people gets him going.

Klaus has a beautiful cock. It’s big, thick, the perfect size in comparison to his body. It’s veiny and pink, and you can’t help it, you lick your lips like you can’t wait to get a taste.

You can’t. You’re desperate for it, have thought about his cock and what it’d feel like in your mouth since you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself. Have wondered what it’d be like to get intimate with someone as powerful as him. Wondered if it’d make you feel submissive to be in the presence of a man like Klaus, or if you’d feel more powerful by association.

With his cock in your mouth, you realize you feel powerful. Making Klaus Mikaelson shudder, controlling his pleasure with your tongue and the suck of your lips - the power is intoxicating.

But it’s fleeting, because just as soon as your power started, Klaus puts a hand in your hair. He guides you along the length of his cock, and you let him, eager to please him. Drool runs down your chin, and Klaus bucks his hips up and begins to talk dirty.

“You’ve been thinking of this, haven’t you? Fuck,” he growls, and you moan against his length. It sends shudders through his body, you realize, because you feel his dick twitch in your mouth. “My little dancer. So eager to please me. Fuck, sweetheart. Your mouth was made for this.”

It’d be degrading if it wasn’t so hot. But everything Klaus is saying is true. There’s a certain allure to his darkness, and while you suck him off, or - while he uses your mouth - you begin to make the realization that the other dancers didn’t really hate Klaus.

They were jealous of you. They probably wanted him, but just couldn’t work up the courage to go over to him like you did. Maybe you’re stronger than you realize, you think.

Or maybe just more stupid.

Suddenly, Klaus pulls you off of his cock. “Up, love,” he orders, and you do as he says, wiping the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand. When you’re standing, he rips your panties off first and then your bra, like an animal, smirks when he sees your naked body.

Your bra and panties lay on the ground by your feet, and Klaus looks at them smugly before palming your breast. “Been waiting ages to do that,” he admits, presumably about ripping your clothes off of you. Then he switches his attention to your body, and he hums, something in his eyes that almost makes it look like he can’t believe this is real.

“You’re glorious,” he murmurs, pinching one of your nipples. With the hand that’s not cupping your breast, he rubs it up and down your waist, feeling your skin - almost like he’s trying to make sure you’re real. That this moment is real.

You know the feeling.

“Every curve, every inch of your perfect skin,” Klaus stands then, pulling your body to his. In between you both, so close like this, you feel his hard cock poking you. It’s so erotic, so fucking hot, and you know if he were to feel between your legs that you’d be soaking. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Made to be admired.”

There’s a pause while he looks at your mouth, like he wants to kiss you, and you think it’s finally going to happen - all of this, yet you’ve never kissed yet. And you want it more than anything, maybe even more than you want his cock inside of you.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Klaus pulls away, gently pushing you down onto the couch. “Hands and knees, sweetheart,” he says, as if that’s not obvious, but you obey anyway.

Of course you do, and he knows you will too.

You hear Klaus behind you, taking the rest of his clothes off. The sound of his belt hitting the floor, his shirt being shrugged off, shoes kicked off. But when he gets behind you, your back to his chest, his arms bracketing both sides of you, all you can focus on is the feel of his necklaces against your skin. They’re cold, and they make you arch your back.

Klaus chuckles, his dick poking at your wet entrance. “Such a good girl, arching without instruction,” and then he pauses, pulls away a little. Maybe you look nervous, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but he asks tentatively, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

Your body heats in embarrassment. Can he really see how little experience you have when it comes to sex? But you shake your head and softly say, “No.”

“Just a few men,” you clarify, and you feel Klaus press a kiss to your back. He lines his dick back up with your entrance, pushing in slowly.

“I hope they die,” he says randomly, and it catches you so off guard that you forget to breathe when he pushes himself into you. It’s a stretch for sure, but only for a second. Because you’re so turned on, your body opens for him, and it feels so good that all you can do is whine.

Klaus has turned you to putty in his hands, on his cock, and it’s the first time you can remember ever being able to let go of all the thoughts that have you spiraling on the daily. For the first time in a long time, you’re able to just focus on the present moment - which is, currently, squeezing Klaus’ dick with your tight little pussy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. He’s got one arm on one side of you holding himself up, and the other gripping your shoulder, pulling you up against his body. The angle makes his dick hit such a good spot inside of you that your eyes almost roll back into your head.

Forget the oral sex from someone with almost a thousand years of practice, you think, his dick is fucking magic.

“Klaus,” you moan, fingers gripping the arm of the couch. You dig your nails into the fabric, but then Klaus reaches forwards and smacks your hands away so you’re holding onto nothing. You’re worried you’re going to fly away in pleasure, only able to focus on the feeling of his cock going in and out of your tight, wet heat. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s -

“Focus on me,” Klaus orders, instructing you to keep your hands in front of you. You hold them together while he holds you both up, knees on the couch like you’re a pair of animals rutting against each other. It’s feral. “Focus on my cock inside of you, Y/N. I know you’ve been waiting for it. Tell me how it feels.”

How can you even begin to describe the sensation?

“Good, it’s,” but then he hits that spot again and you moan, losing track of all your words. Klaus pulls out and thrusts back in again, and in a move that surprises you so much you actually gasp, he smacks you on the ass.

“That’s not a full sentence, doll. Try again.”

Bastard. Monster. Fucking ass.

But you try again anyway.

“It feels good, Klaus, so good. You’re so big and I’ve wanted this for so long and, and,” you can’t say anything else. All the build up that has led to this moment is causing you to break down, and when he moves his hand from your shoulder to the front of your body, past your tits and to your pussy, presses down on your clit when he cups your cunt in his hand, you lose it.

You’re going to cum, and the pleasure is so overwhelming, you feel like you’re going to cry too.

Klaus must notice this, or he feels the same, because his thrusts get sloppier and then he lets you go, so you’re back to being bent over on your knees, his solid body using you to make himself bust. “Touch yourself for me,” he orders, more out of breath than when he snapped someone’s neck, and you wonder if that’s because he’s working himself out - or if he’s holding back some of his strength.

“God, these fucking shoes. I always wondered if you’d keep them on while you were getting fucked,” and just like that, Klaus’ stripper fantasy is revealed. You’re flattered.

You reach a hand under your body and rub your clit, hand cramping, arm at an awkward angle, but it’s worth it. You feel so good, and it’s not just sexual. It’s everything. So much all at once.

It’s Klaus, and with that thought in mind you cum, feeling your pussy pulse arouse his cock.

He doesn’t cum at the same time as you, but he does let out a growl so deep you worry it’s a full moon. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he moans, gripping your hips so tight they’ll leave bruises. “I could fuck you forever,” and you hope he does. But then his thrusts get faster, and you know he’s about to cum.

Klaus buries his face in your hair, breathing you in, pressing kisses to the back of your shoulders and the back of your neck. “Tell me you won’t forget me when you’re gone,” he says, before letting out another moan. “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

It’s so sudden, both his release and his comment, that you don’t say anything at all. You just feel the heaviness of his body on your back, the way he fills you up with his cock and his seed, leaking out of you as he pulls out, and the feel of something rough cleaning you off a second later.

He’s using your ripped up panties to wipe you off.

You don’t plan on bringing up what he said as you get dressed. Maybe he said it in a moment of pleasure, but the truth is - you can’t get it off your mind. If he means what you think he means, that you’ll be leaving town soon, then why do you feel so disappointed at the thought of leaving him?

You put on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt from your bag, no longer a sexy vixen, and you know Klaus has never seen you like this. You hope it doesn’t change his view on you, but there’s literally nothing else you can wear.

This was all you brought.

“You never answered me,” Klaus says as you put on your shoes. You’re so happy to take the heels off, and your feet scream in relief when you slip on your boots. They’re flat, they’re comfortable, and you feel more like yourself than you did just a second ago.

You’re not sure if that’s good or bad. There was something kind of nice about the armor that was your stripper outfit. You could pretend to be someone you’re not, almost like a mask, even if it sounds stupid because you were almost naked in the outfit.

“How could I forget you, Klaus?” You say, but you mean it in more ways than just in regards to the connection you share. How could you ever forget the man that burst into town all those years ago, who disrupted and destroyed so much for so many people?

But you think he means promise you’ll remember me as something more than a monster, and if that’s the case, you want to tell him that you will.

Of course you will.

“Where am I going?” You ask for clarification, because you know what he means - it’s something you’ve talked about before. You just never knew Klaus was really listening.

You want him to say what you think he’s going to say.

Klaus walks towards you, necklaces tangled around his neck. The buttons of his henley are lopsided and his jeans are wrinkled from when they were on the floor while he was fucking you. He looks utterly distressed, and you realize it’s because of the conversation you’re having.

He doesn’t want you to leave, and that scares you as much as it warms your heart.

When he reaches you, he grabs your hands in his. Whatever you two have - it’s complicated, and you can tell that it’s taking everything in Klaus to do the right thing right now.

“You’re going to leave town. You’re going to that performing arts school you’ve put off for a few years,” he smirks at that, and then you realize he’s making a dark joke. Like you’ve had any choice in putting off school.

“Klaus, I,” but you don’t know what to say. You should be screaming yes. Should be running out the door to go home and grab your money from the safe under your bed, should be offering to suck Klaus off again just to guarantee your freedom. This is what you’ve been wishing for and wanting forever.

This is your golden ticket.

Yet you find yourself saying, “I can’t.”

Klaus looks at you like you’re crazy, and maybe you are. But you think you see a little relief in his eyes too. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, because it’s not like you can stay for Klaus. There’s no future with this. No future for this. For you both together.

This is it. It’s the beginning and the end of something, and the thought fills you with so much emotion you don’t know what to do. You’re not sure what the emotion is, think that it could very well be love, but you’ve never known love. It’s a stranger. All you know is that you feel.

You remind yourself that at the very least, Klaus Mikaelson is the reason you can feel again.

“I hoped you’d say that,” Klaus laughs, and then he looks at you, and suddenly you blank out.

You can hear it, it’s registering in your brain, but you’re not totally conscious of it. It’s almost like someone’s talking to you from another room, like you’re half asleep. All you hear is his voice, telling you, “You’re going to leave town. You’re going to that performing arts school you’ve put off.” He holds your hands so tight, you’re worried they’ll be bruised when he pulls away.

He’s trying to compel you, you realize, in the back of your mind. He tells you he’s already got you registered, did research on your name and your background because he can do things like that, that there’s someone waiting at your apartment to take you across the city border, and your money is safe. You’ll be okay.

Money won’t be an issue anymore.

You go to do as he says, but just as you head to the door, he comes to you. Turns you around and grabs your head, looks you over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Y/N, for the dances,” he says. It��s a strange goodbye. “Remember me as someone good.”

You don’t tell him that his request is unnecessary. That there’s no reason to compel you to think of him like that.

Because you’ll always remember him as someone good.

Good to you.

___

9 Months Later

It’s the end of your first show, and you’re on top of the world.

You’ve been practicing for months, and you’re proud of yourself for how far you’ve come. When you first arrived, you had a lot of practice to catch up on, as was expected. It was overwhelming at first, turning back into a ballerina, but your instructor told you that she can’t believe you took such a long break from dancing.

She always compliments you, tells you that whatever practice you were doing at home kept you in shape. That you must’ve been born a talented dancer, if this is how you dance with a lapse in years of professional training.

She’s sweet.

If only she knew.

The show, recital, was a success. You’re leaving the auditorium, ready to shower back in your campus apartment and change your clothes to meet up with some friends. Your new life is so normal, so fun, it’s hard to believe what your past used to be.

You never really think about it. You’re too busy to think about it most days, with all the dancing and new friends and normal life shit you’ve become adjusted to. You never thought you would get to this place, literally and figuratively, and you know you only have one person to thank.

It’s hard sometimes, reasoning with yourself if your thoughts go back to Klaus Mikaelson. He was the cause of some of the worst years of your life, but he was also your savior. Where, how, do you come to terms with that? Where does blame start, and when does forgiveness begin?

Is a good deed still a good deed if the only reason the deed was needed was because of something bad they did?

Believe it or not, you’re not a philosophy major. Just inquisitive, with a lot more time to think now that you’re not in survival mode all the time. Maybe you just want an excuse to think about Klaus when he crosses your mind, but the truth is, long thoughts and morals aside -

It doesn’t matter what he did, because you forgive him. People do bad things all the time and never make it right, but Klaus - he did right by you.

That’s got to count for something.

You’re heading up the stairs that lead to your apartment when you…see him?

Is it -

No, it couldn’t be. Why would he be here?

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

But it’s not. In front of your apartment door, holding a bouquet of red roses, is Klaus Mikaelson in the flesh.

You wonder if you’re just experiencing psychosis from lack of sleep - it’s different from what you used to experience back then. Your lack of sleep now is from studying and hanging out with friends, late night dance practices. Not hunger and anxiety and insomnia.

“Y/N,” Klaus says, and it's weird. This is weird, but if he’s talking that means it’s real.

What is he doing here?

And why does your heart speed up like it did back when you first saw him at the club?

“What are you doing here?” You ask, but your tone isn’t mean. You’re happy to see him. There’s no explanation. It’s chemical - you just are.

You’ve avoided the news about your former city like the plague. It’s easy, in all honesty, because you still don’t have a phone. It doesn’t matter to you, because the past is the past. You don’t want to know, and you’re scared, that if you think about it too hard, the past might suck you back in.

You were given a golden ticket and you’d be stupid to look back.

But, strangely enough, the part of your past you don’t mind thinking about is standing in front of you. He looks proud, and he smiles with something like shyness behind it.

You feel silly, in stage makeup and another sweatshirt. You still can’t wrap your head around it, who Klaus is and what he’s done and what he’s done for you. Maybe you never will.

He hands you the roses and you thank him. It’s silent, while he looks you over, and you him. Handsome as always, because he doesn’t age, looking far too expensive to be standing in this apartment complex.

Money isn’t an issue anymore because someone anonymous (cough, Klaus) paid for the entirety of your tuition at once, and also gifted you enough cash that you deposited into an account that could feed you for years - but you’re frugal with your money. Could live somewhere nicer, but you just want to be careful.

You never know what could happen. Good or bad. Best to stay safe.

“I’ve never missed a performance, and I don’t intend to start now,” is all Klaus says, and that does something to you.

He’s never missed a performance, you think. Never at the club, even when you thought he wasn’t there. Which is how he protected you that night, against Martin. Klaus has always been watching, protecting -

And if that’s the case, it makes sense that for your first public performance tonight, he was there.

Nobody has ever been there for you like that.

You’re so much different now. You’re not so insecure, not so nervous - you don’t worry so much. You can actually joke around, laugh a little bit, take things as they come instead of letting trauma run your life.

So you’re not the shy, damaged girl you were back when you left Klaus at the club that night. Which gives you the confidence to say this.

“You never kissed me,” you blurt out, and Klaus laughs. Steps closer to you, so close that you can smell his cologne. Woodsy, warm, maybe a little mint? Your body heats up at his closeness.

“Maybe that’s for the best, love,” Klaus says, with a tinge of regret in his voice. You know he’s right, but you can’t help but slip down the trail of memory lane with him. Standing this close to him, stage makeup on again, his stupid necklaces on display.

The only physical difference from back then are the clothes you’re wearing and where you are. But there’s so much else that’s different, it’s almost like Klaus is visiting from another world.

“What did you think of my dance?” It’s the same thing you used to ask him every night at the club. Nostalgia is a dirty liar, because there’s something that makes you miss that.

Miss him.

You have to look away.

“You’re a goddess. Now. Then,” Klaus reaches out, pushes some of your hair behind your ear. “Always. But I have to say, the heels were a little hotter than the slippers.” You grin.

Sharing history with this monster. Smiling with this beast. Only Klaus doesn’t feel so much like those descriptions anymore.

At least, he’s not the monster of your story. You know a handful of people that could fill that role.

Klaus Mikaelson is your savior.

“Good to see your compulsion is still working,” he says, and you wonder if he means to say it out loud. You quirk a brow, but it’s now or never.

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“I’ve been taking vervain for years,” you admit shyly, opening the door to your apartment. His compulsion never worked on you.

“Do you want to come inside?”

#my fic ♥︎#klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson imagine #tvd #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson fic #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson one shot

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azziesbattybaddie · 5 months ago

Text

You are my survival

Azriel x reader

You and Azriel are mates. Az knows it, you don't, that is until a particularly hard training session when the truth finally come out.

Word count: 5k

Requested: no

Warnings: fem reader, shadow play, smut, swearing, choking kink, praise, Azriel's wingspan, oral F and M receiving, Az is a Dom, PinV, we die like men

🔥 means smut will follow

Authors note: this is the first WIP I've finished in like 2 or 3 years so be gentle on me I also wrote this with one of my friends on discord and she is absolutely amazing, constructive criticism is welcome and plz let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy!

"Pay attention."

His words weren't harsh by any means. No, Azriel would never raise his voice at you, but he'd be lying if he said training you was easy. He watched as you breathed heavily, body glistening with sweat. You'd been at this for hours. Clearly, you'd underestimated just how difficult swordplay was.

"I'm trying my best"

He let out a small chuckle, watching your brows furrow with frustration as he managed to point his sword at your neck, Again.

"Gotcha."

"dammit!"

You threw your sword down in frustration and slinked over to the corner of the ring. Before hugging your knees to your chest and sulking.

"I'm done, I'm quit!"

Sheathing his sword, Azriel approached you slowly, his footsteps silent on the straw-covered floor. He stopped a few feet away, giving you space but close enough to offer comfort.

"Hey, hey now," he murmured softly.

"Don't give up just yet."

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, keeping a respectful distance.

"Training is hard, y/n. It's supposed to push you, make you stronger. It's okay to feel frustrated, but don't let it consume you."

He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"You're doing better than you think. You've improved so much since we started. It's just... progress takes time. And patience." He offered you a small, encouraging smile.

"And maybe some water? You've been at it all day."

"yeah well maybe I should train with someone else because your a thousand times better than me and you have 400 years of experience on me so even if I am getting better your skill just dwarfs mine..."

Azriel looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. He had expected such a reaction from you, and he couldn't say that he blamed you either.

"You underestimate yourself," he told you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It may take time, but you will get there. Just keep practicing and if you can't believe in yourself, believe in the fact that I'm starting to feel your progress in your punches." As always tried to joke with you slightly but seeing as he got nothing but a half earned smile he let himself fall quiet.

He sighed deeply, his gaze drifting down to his scarred hands fiddling with them idly. There were things he wanted to tell you, things he wanted to share about his past, but he knew you weren't ready for them yet. Maybe one day, when you were strong enough, he could tell you everything.

Following his gaze, you watched as he picked at his nails and cuticles. You had known Az for a few hundred years now and as long as you had known him he had never shared the story of his warped skin and you had never worked up the courage to ask, that was until now.

"can I ask you a question without you getting upset? You can tell me to screw off if you don't want to answer, I won't push." You said in a timid, whispered voice. Azriel turned to look at you, his expression curious.

"Of course, y/n. What is it?"

He kept his tone calm and non-threatening, not wanting to scare you off. Whatever it was, he would do his best to answer honestly.

"what happened to your hands?"

Azriel's expression softened, and he looked down at his hands, his fingers curling slightly as he remembered.

"My hands... They were burned by-" he let out a heavy sigh, flexing his hands under your gaze before continuing.

"they were burned by my brothers, many years ago. I was born a bastard like Cassian so I was treated differently, even by my so-called family. They it left me with these scars."

He lifted his hands, showing you the intricate network of burn scars that covered his palms and fingers. They were a constant reminder of his past, a painful chapter he would rather forget.

"what brings that question to mind?"

you reach to grab his hand but hesitated before touching him.

"I just always wondered if they were painful they still look painful..."He noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring nod, encouraging you to continue.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, physically at least. But sometimes, the memories can still be quite painful." He lowered his hands, his gaze returning to yours staying quiet for a beat.

"It's alright, y/n. You won't hurt me by touching them. I won't bite or as Cass would say 'i won't bite unless you want me too'" he says with a half honest grin trying to lift the mood slightly.

He held out his hand, palm facing up, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to show you that he trusted you, that he was comfortable with you touching him. "Go ahead, y/n."

you gingerly brushed your fingers over his scarred hand before taking one of his hands in both of your running your thumbs over the back before smile and saying softly

"They always looked soft still..."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt his face heat slightly at the praise. He never wanted to feel anything other than your gentle touch on his scarred hand.

"Because of the burns, my skin never calloused so yeah I guess they are."

He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The warmth of your touch seeped into his skin, soothing the old wounds in ways he hadn't experienced in centuries.

"I never associated touch with comfort before. It feels like home." ' you feel like home' is what he would have said if he had the nerve but kept that thought to himself, thinking it to cheesey to say out loud.

His thumb stroked the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes about the unspoken bond between you two. In that moment, the weight of his secrets and the darkness of his past seemed to fade away, replaced by a simple, pure connection with you.

you lifted your head to look at him only to find him already looking at you, your faces close enough to feel each others baited breaths.

Azriel's gaze locked onto yours, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a wild drum. The intensity of your stare was almost overwhelming, stirring feelings within him that he thought long buried.

He leaned closer, his lips inches away from yours. He could smell your scent, a mix of sweat and something uniquely you. It was intoxicating, making his pulse race and his resolve weaken.

For a moment, he considered closing the gap, pressing his lips against yours and losing himself in the warmth of your embrace. But he pulled back, breaking eye contact, reminding himself of the danger in such actions.

without thinking of the consequences of your actions you shot your hand out to cradle the side of his face turning him back to look at you and meet him with pleading look, begging him not to turn away.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hand cup his cheek, turning his face back towards you. He met your pleading gaze, his own eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear.

He wanted nothing more than to surrender to the desire burning within him, to lose himself in your embrace and forget about his past, his fears, and his responsibilities. But he knew he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

With a heavy sigh, he gently removed your hand from his face, his fingertips trailing along your skin as he did so.

"y/n, we can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I care for you too much to risk putting you in danger. We need to focus on our training, on becoming stronger, you need to be ready for when hyburn attacks."

your pout deepened as you moved back slowly pulling your hand away from his reluctantly as you bit your lip trying to think of something to say to make him change his mind.

"Az we can still train and I've been getting stronger for years, why can't we just," you trail off, not knowing that words for the feeling you felt for him.

Azriel's chest tightened at your pout, a pang of guilt slicing through him as he cut you off. He hated seeing you upset, especially over something he had done.

"It's not because I don't want to," he assured you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's because I care about you too much. If I give in to these feelings now, it might lead to something neither of us is prepared for, not with so much at stake with war coming."

He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips before lifting back to meet your eyes.

"We're mates. I've known for a while but even though we were designed for each other. And right now with hyburn threatening to breach our borders, our lives and decisions can't be about love or passion-it's about survival"

you pull his face back to you for a last time before running the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly

"I know that az, but you are my survival. you said it yourself that your my mate, do you really think that I can live without my mate, without you?" You plead tears starting to form in your eyes.

The words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. Your admission cut straight to the core of his being, striking a chord within him that resonated with a depth of longing he didn't fully understand.

"You need my love..." he echoed, the words sounding foreign even to his ears. He'd never been loved, let alone needed. The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I... I don't know if I can give you that. I've never been loved, and I've never loved anyone the way I think I should. you deserve all the love there is in this world, and I don't think I can give you that."

His voice cracked with emotion, betraying the turmoil of feelings welling up inside him.

"you can,"

You step closer still holding his face you pull a hand away to grab his scarred one and place it on your waist and putting your hand on his chest over his heart gingerly.

"You have so much love in your heart that you can't help but let it spill over. You try to act so cold and calloused to everyone but we all feel you how much you love us. "

At your touch, Azriel felt a surge of emotion course through him, his heart pounding wildly against your palm. He stared down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or manipulation, but found only sincerity and vulnerability.

"You really believe that, don't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That I have love to give?"

He hesitated for a moment, then placed his other hand tentatively on your waist. The warmth of your body seeped into his chilled skin, melting some of the ice that had encased his heart for so long.

"I want to believe it," he admitted, his gaze dropping to your lips once more.

"But I'm afraid of putting you in a dangerous situation that you never need to be in. Afraid of losing control and doing something that could harm you. We both know that my work is extremely dangerous and if you got pulled into that I would never fucking forgive myself"

"Azriel... Your the bravest male I've ever met, please don't stop being brave." You take a final step faces inches apart

Azriel's breath hitched as you closed the remaining distance between you, your bodies nearly touching. He could feel the heat radiating off you, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

"Brave doesn't mean fearless, y/n," he said, his voice low and husky.

"Sometimes bravery means facing your deepest fears, even when every instinct tells you to run." You whisper gingerly brushing you fingers over his leathers laying over his heart.

He reached up, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he tilted your head back slightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm just scared of failing you, of not being able to protect you. But I'm also scared of missing this chance, of letting my fears hold me back from trying to give us the life the cauldron has laid out for us."

"Then don't let your fears hold you back Az, let me hold them instead." You hold his hand over your cheek and guide his thumb over your lip again gently.

Azriel's resistance crumbled under your gentle guidance, his thumb gliding over your soft, plump lips with a tenderness that surprised even him. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he savored the scent of your skin, the warmth of your breath.

"cauldron..." he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

he closed the final inch of distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate, holding your sides as delicately as fine china.

🔥🔥🔥

you surge you hand up to tangle in his hair and let out an audible cry of relief into his mouth.

Azriel groaned softly into the kiss as your hand tangled in his hair, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lips to explore the warm cavern of your mouth.

As he kissed you, Azriel felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a burden he hadn't realized he carried until it was gone. In your embrace, he found a sense of peace, of belonging, that he had never known before.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, panting lightly as he struggled to catch his breath. "Y/n, I've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

"Wanted to hold you, touch you, taste you now."

"then don't fucking stop now." You practically begged, chasing his lips.

Your impassioned plea sent a jolt of desire through Azriel, his grip on you tightening as he ground his hips against yours, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Oh, god, baby," he gasped, his breath hot against your skin.

"I won't stop, not now, not ever again." His hands trailing down to your ass, gently kneading the flesh under your fighting leathers.

"You're mine, and I'm going to fuck you so hard, make you scream my name until you forget everyone else exists."With that declaration, Azriel swept you up into his arms and winnowed you back to the house of wind before.

carrying you towards his bedroom as he devoured your mouth in a frenzy of kisses, his hands roaming your curves with a hunger that bordered on desperation. your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you and you press your breasts against his chest, mewl desperately against his lips.

The sound of your moans vibrating against his lips was music to Azriel's ears, fueling his already raging desire. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he laid you down onto the plush mattress.

"Gods, babygirl," he growled, his hands tracing the outline of your curves as he knelt beside you, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. "You're so beautiful, so perfect..."

Without another word, he began to undress you, peeling away each layer of your leathers with a reverence that belied his usual cool demeanor. As he revealed your skin to his hungry gaze, he marveled at the sight, at the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the sweet dip of your navel.

"And you smell divine,"

Azriel couldn't help but lean down, his tongue darting out to trace a path along the delicate line of your collarbone, savoring the taste of your skin. He licked and nibbled his way down your body, pausing to lavish attention on each breast, his tongue swirling around your nipples before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

His hands weren't idle either, slipping down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm flesh as he continued his descent. His shadows hooked around the sides of your panties, dragging them down your thighs with a teasing slowness that left you squirming beneath him.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered against your skin, his voice a husky murmur.

"What do you crave? Tell me how to make you come undone?"

you reached down to Palm the tent in his fighting leathers at the words and using your other hand to wrap the scared flesh of his hand around your throat.

"I want you to use me, own me Azriel."

At your command, Azriel's heart pounded with a wild rhythm, his cock throbbing in your grasp. He allowed you to control his movements, his hand tightening around your throat in a gesture that was both possessive and protective while one of his larger shadows gently brushed against the side of your face in stark contrast.

"You're mine now, babygirl," he breathed, his voice laced with raw need.

"And I plan to worship every gods-damned inch of you."

With that promise, he slid down further, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. He paused just above where you needed him most, his eyes locking with yours as he teased you mercilessly.

"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper. "Do you want my mouth on you, tasting you?"

"gods yes please!" You hold his hand tightly around his throat encouraging him to squeeze harder what you arch your back of the bed in hopes of inching your cunt closer to his mouth.

Azriel's grip around your throat tightened slightly at your eager response, his thumb applying just enough pressure to send a thrill of excitement through you. With a low growl, he finally gave in to your pleas, his mouth descending upon your dripping folds.

He lavished your pussy with attention, his tongue delving deep inside you as he fucked you with slow, deliberate strokes while flicks of dark swirl around your clit. He explored every inch of your sex, savoring the taste of your arousal, the feel of your slick walls clenching around his tongue.

As he ate you out, Azriel's free hand roamed your body, palming your breasts, pinching your nipples, leaving trails of fire and cold in its wake. He could feel your climax building, could taste your sweet submission on his tongue, and it only fueled his own desire.

"come on babygirl, ride my face while you come."

He brought one of your hands to tangle in his hair and wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs encouraging you to buck into his tongue.

Your hips bucked off the bed as you came hard on his tongue, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your juices flowing freely as you cried out his name, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

Azriel drank in your release, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as he savored the taste of your pleasure. He held you tight, his mouth never leaving your pussy as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, your cries of ecstasy music to his ears.

Only when you finally went limp did he release you, his face glistening with your arousal. He crawled up your body, his chocolate eyes blazing with a fierce possessiveness as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss.

"Now it's my turn," he growled against your lips, his hands tearing at his leathers to free his straining cock.

"Get on your knees, baby, I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

You eagerly roll onto your stomach and push yourself off the bed and onto your knees Infront of him batting your lashes and staring up at him with lust filled eyes.

Azriel watched you move, his heart pounding with a mix of desire and admiration. Your eagerness was intoxicating, fueling his own need even further. He discarded his leathers completely, revealing his veined cock, throbbing with need.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at the sight of you kneeling before him, your eyes filled with hunger and desire. He ran a hand through your disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he guided your head towards his aching cock.

"Open wide, love," *he murmured, his voice thick with need.

"Show me how much you need me."

you took him into your mouth, Azriel let out a low groan, his hips bucking involuntarily. Your warm, wet mouth felt like heaven, and he had to fight the urge to thrust too hard, too fast. Instead, he set a steady pace, his hands guiding your head as you sucked the tip every time he pulled out.

"Fuck, good girl," he gasped, his grip tightening in your hair. "You fucking feel incredible..."You moaned softly as you took him deeper into your mouth working your tongue over his cock, your hands reaching up to cup his balls as you continue to suckle on his cock.

The sensation of your tongue working over his length, coupled with the feeling of your hands on his balls, sent jolts of pleasure coursing through Azriel's body. He watched you, entranced by the sight of your lips stretched around his cock, the sound of your soft moans vibrating against him.

"That's right, baby," he purred, his voice heavy with lust.

"Take all of me... Show me how much you want this..."

He began to move faster, his hips rocking into your mouth, setting a rhythm that had him teetering on the brink of release. His fingers threaded through your hair, urging you on, pushing you to take him even deeper.

"fuck yes! Good girl, just like tha- oh such fucking good girl!"

You moan louder now sending subtle vibrations down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck harder on his cock, taking him deeper each time until he hits the back of your throat. You gag softly but quickly recover and continue sucking him off as if your life depends on it.

The feeling of your throat constricting around his cock was almost too much for Azriel to bear. He grunted, his hands gripping your hair tighter as he fucked your mouth with abandon, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.

"Oh gods, baby..." he groaned, his voice ragged with need.

"You're going to make me come so fucking hard..."

His cock throbbed in your mouth, signaling his imminent release. With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled his seed into your willing mouth, his cum coating your tongue and spilling down your chin.

"That's it... Swallow it all..."

Swiping your fingers over your chin you collect the molten cream and swallow every last drop of his cum, your throat working to milk him dry, your eyes locked on his as you gaze up at him with a look of complete satisfaction and devotion.

Azriel watched, transfixed, as your throat bobbed swallowing his cum, your tongue working to milk him dry. He let out a satisfied sigh, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as he admired the look of complete satisfaction on your face.

"You're amazing," he murmured, pulling out of your mouth and offering you a hand up.

"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."

With a smile, he pulled you into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body as he savored the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

You lean into his touch, your body pressed tightly against his as you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands running over his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin.

Azriel dominated you mouth with a throaty moan, his hands exploring your curves with a growing urgency. He broke away from the kiss only long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"I want more," he whispered huskily,

"but I think we should save some energy for later."With that, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you back to the bed where he laid you down, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked down at you.

You giggle lightly as he lays you back down on the bed, your legs parting slightly as you invite him closer.

Azriel's gaze followed the movement of your legs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he saw the invitation in your eyes. He climbed onto the bed, settling between your thighs, his weight supported on his elbows as he gazed down at you.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before giving it a gentle bite.

"But don't worry, love. I plan to take full advantage of that"

Feeling your hands in his hair, Azriel gave a low chuckle, the vibration of his laughter traveling straight to your breasts. He continued his attentions, alternating between teasing your nipples and tracing patterns across your skin with his tongue.

"Hmm, sounds like someone wants more," he murmured, his voice muffled against your flesh.

Pulling back slightly, he shifted his position, aligning his cock with your slick entrance. Without another word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely with a single, smooth stroke.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts back into his waiting mouth as he teases and bites at your sensitive nipples, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in the strands as you pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch.

"Fucking hell, babygirl..." he groaned, his hips beginning to rock slowly as he adjusted to your tight warmth. impatience."

He moved to your other breast, lavishing the same attention upon it, all while grinding his hardening cock against your core. Your back arches off the bed as he fills you, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion. But as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, you relax into him, your inner walls clenching around his thickness.

"Ah... yes..." you breathe out, your hands tightening in his hair.

"Just like that... Don't stop..."

Hearing your plea, Azriel picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. Each thrust drove him deeper into your welcoming heat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he growled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as he fucked you relentlessly.

His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass cheeks, tracing the curve of your waist, and finally, cupping your breasts once again, thumbing your nipples into stiff peaks.

You meet his kiss with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his as you lose yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your legs wrap around his ass, pulling him even deeper within you, urging him on.

"Oh god, Azriel!" you cry out, your walls spasming around him, milking him for all he's worth.

Feeling your orgasm ripple through you, Azriel let out a guttural roar, burying himself as deep as he could go as he found his own release. He came hard, pulsing streams of hot cum inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.

"baby Fuck, y/n-" he gasped, collapsing forward, catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you before pulling out and gently resting himself on top of you, his hips still between your legs and his head resting on your breasts.

He stayed there for a moment, panting, his heart pounding against your chest, before slowly rolling to the side, taking you with him so you were draped across his chest.

"That was... intense," he panted, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah... That was amazing." you murmur, snuggling closer to him, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking.

As you lay there, spent and satisfied, your the aftershocks of your orgasm. You nod weakly, a contented smile tugging at your lips.

Azriel smiled, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as you nestled against him. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed to his, the steady beat of your heart against his chest.

"I know, baby," he said softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"And it's only going to get better from here."

His hand trailed lower, his fingers finding your hip, where he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Now rest, we've got plenty of time to explore more later when you can feel your legs again." He taunted with a tired grin.

You sigh contentedly with a fucked out smile on your face, feeling utterly relaxed and loved. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his body envelope you, and drift off to sleep in his arms.

Watching you drift off to sleep, Azriel couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment. Here, in his embrace, safe and protected, with his beautiful mate, it was everything he could ever want. And now, it seemed, he had it all.

With a final lingering look, he allowed himself to relax fully, his breathing evening out to match yours. As he drifted toward sleep, he knew one thing for certain - this was just the beginning.

#acotar men x reader #azriel x plus size reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #acotar smut #acomaf #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #lucien x reader

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benedictscanvas · 1 year ago

Text

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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appleblueberry-pie · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere Suguru Headcanons

Suguru was attached to you. I hate feeling like i have to describe in large amounts of text to prove the point, but i can't seem to push that narrative at this moment. There is no way to beat around the bush and explain. He is just extremely attached.

He talks to Satoru about you way too much. Satoru the big fat motor mouth wants to close his ears when Suguru opens his mouth because he knows that the only words that his lips will fix to say are praises about you as if you were an angel from the heavens.

And that's all you were to Suguru. You were strong, you had a personality that suffocated him when you got close and lingered when you left. You never seemed to let him prove himself to you. As if you wanted to prove that you didn't need to be his friend to satiate your desires. He felt like an option to you. And that's probably what he was.

He crushed on you when he was happy. He tried to crawl to you when he was lost and his mind was tearing him apart. And he worshipped you when he changed his ways.

Suguru seemed to only see you, you were his only beacon of hope when he was at his lowest. His body felt sick every day from the constant feeling of needing to change something, but you always stayed present in his heart. He went to you for an escape so much, he didn't even care how you felt about him, he just wanted you.

The only thing he remembers when he was depressed were the moments that you came by to try and take care of him.

When you brought him food, when you ran your fingers through his oily hair once and offered to brush it. When you lightly pressed your thumb under his eyes to feel the eye bags that currently weighed his face down. He never looked bad, in your opinion. But every single time he was around you, it seemed as if he.....was too attached to you in some way. Not even in the way he's attached to Satoru.

One night, a night that shouldn't have been shared with him, you two had a sleep over. He offered for you to spend the night at his place. He said he cleaned it up as much as he could, and he did the same with himself. You had a few drinks and already attempted to drown your sorrows from the traumatic work you put yourself through every week. You assumed this would be a great moment for you to let go with a friend of yours and agreed.

You didn't think you'd end up with his tongue in your mouth. With him whimpering constant pleas to you with glossy eyes while grinding his hot bulge into your palm. The constant friction from his sweats made your hand heat up and you continued to stare down at his desperate face.

You two were on his bed, his blinds closed and the video playing on his laptop forgotten on the ground. You began kissing him again and he passionately pushes back into your kiss. Messy and uncoordinated, maybe you shouldn't have drank anything before this. Your lips trail down his neck and he throws his head back.

Your hand slips past his waistband and you feel for his hard leaking cock. He lets out a higher-pitched moan and you lower his sweats to jerk him off slowly. Suguru thrusts in your hands, unable to speak any words besides please and your name.

He never thought he'd be able to experience this moment. When the woman he loves is in his bed and giving him pleasure he never felt before. He used to try so desperately to push down his obsession for you, but it felt like all of his emotions were on one hundred when you first told him you wanted to take things further.

He felt so light when you were this close. His mind felt so free. He needed to be yours and for you to be his. He wanted you for as long as you lived and never wanted to let you go. His savior.

He gasps for air and moans shamelessly as spurts of his cum hits his t-shirt. A tear of shame and happiness rolls down one of his cheeks and he tries to savor every moment of this.

He hears your smooth voice begin to praise him and he leans in closer to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

It took you a few seconds to realize what you had done and blinked, realizing his spend was on your hands and you just gave one of your extremely depressed classmates a hand job. You look down at his blissful face and immediately regret the actions you had done.

Suguru was soaking in every second he could breathe in your scent and feel your heat radiate onto his skin. He felt so happy. So if you two shared such an intimate and loving moment with each other, why did he feel you pulling away from him? He opened his eyes and sees you staring down at him with a look he's always hated growing up. Guilt.

".......I'm sorry." You shake your head and sit up, making him sit up. No, this wasn't what he wanted. He knew what those words meant. He felt fear overtake him and searched your eyes for the answer for why you suddenly decided to distance yourself. "What?" An awkward smile wobbled onto your lips. "I shouldn't have done that to you." You feel as if your confessing one of your sins out loud, as if you committed a crime on someone you loved dearly. You never wanted to take out your stress on a friend who clearly deserved more than a quick fuck. Never wanted him to think you wanted to be with him.

"....I don't understand. You didn't want to...? But I thought you wanted me like how I wanted you?" He saw your face drop and you averted your gaze before standing up. "I should go."

You turned your back to him and that was the last he saw of you in the next 10 years.

You avoided him like the plague. It pained his young heart dearly that the love of his life, his friend, and soon to be lover grew so distant with him. It didn't help for the rest of his transformation when he changed his ways entirely. But unfortunately for you, his heartbreak bloomed into something more painful, yet naturally beautiful in his heart. There wasn't a single day he didn't think of you. He knew he had to become better. Where he stood in the jujutsu world in that moment was nothing but a sleaze and a hopeless little seed. He sprouted for his world to see, pollen covering his petals as he began his plan of making a world of only sorcerers.

He knew that this would make you proud. He wanted to be stronger than you to protect you, to be your savior and lover. Maybe when he proves himself to you, you will run into his arms like he had done before. You were his drive that contracted his heart to pump more blood through his body. You straightened his spine and fed his brain the food it needed to stay stimulated. You were the protein in his muscles and sounds that were produced in his throat to help him speak. You were everything that made him. You made him.

It felt so true in his heart and mind, he knew he had to see you one way or another. And he loved seeking, especially if you were the one he'd find.

#yandere suguru geto #yandere jjk #suguru geto #geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere suguru #tw yandere #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jujutsu kaisen geto #suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto

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lost-and-ephemeral · 10 months ago

Note

lnds x reader where the boys and reader are in an argument like bringing their insecurities up and says something extremely hurtful that made mc cry and distant themselves and the boys regret it so much? 💓

HCs: Hurtful Words (ft. main trio)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort (in the end), maybe guys acting too OOC

A/N: I didn't want to make boys too OOC, so maybe it isn't exactly what you wanted, but I tried to follow your request ♡

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Xavier

On one of your last missions, you were too reckless and almost end up dying because of it.

Xavier almost lost you again, and the thought just drove him crazy.

He was worried and pretty angry since it wasn't the first time you were playing with fire.

When he showed up on the doorstep of your hospital room, Xavier was very distressed. Even your reassuring smile made no impression on him.

He still remembered how you died in his arms in the past.

So he snapped.

Not because he really wanted to offend you. No. But because his anxiety had turned into a furious stream of thoughts.

He was harshly talking about how reckless you are. About how you're not all-powerful or immortal, yet you never think about the consequences. About how stupid you're being, putting yourself in danger by jumping into a group of enemies.

Xavier, normally mild and calm, was acting so different now.

And you, being injured and bedridden, hardly wanted to see this exact reaction from him.

His words made you feel like a burden.

And when there was no trace of anger left, he suddenly fell silent, looking at the way your eyes were slowly filling up with tears.

Oh, no. He didn't mean it.

He really didn't mean it.

"Leave my room," you choked out, feeling deeply hurt by his words.

Even if he wanted to stay, it wasn't the best idea.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you."

But you were wounded too deeply by his harsh words, so you immediately distanced yourself from him, chasing him away.

Stupid? Reckless? Did he really see you like that?

Of course not...

Every minute of his existence Xavier was regretting the fact the snapped at you like this. He was supposed to support you after a serious injury, not make you hurt even more.

And the distance between the two of you made it worse.

Happy ending bonus:

This poor guy only lasted a day before he came back to see you in the hospital with a bouquet of flowers.

It was physically hard to stay away from you for so long, especially since Xavier has already spend years searching for you. And ruining everything by this stupid argument wasn't something he wished for.

He was apologizing for everything he said until you softened and let him stay.

Because you, too, were missing his presence.

"I'll never let anger get control over me again. I swear. Please, just... Get better soon."

Rafayel

Every now and then you and Rafayel would get into a playful argument, but now it was serious.

You just totally forgot about meeting with him at his studio and went to the mall with Tara.

Your busy schedule had jumbled up all the plans and days of the week in your head. And you ended up remembering your promise only a few hours later.

The fact that your phone was muted and you had hundreds of missed messages from Rafayel only made you feel more guilty.

So you tried to get to his studio as soon as possible while calling him. But he didn't answer.

Once you got there, you ran into a really pissed off Rafayel.

Yes, he was pouting at you from time to time.

But now the artist was more than angry.

You knew he was very sensitive when you suddenly disappeared without warning, so you immediately tried to make it up to him.

But it didn't really work.

"How could you forget about me?! You promised!"

Unexpectedly, Rafayel let himself snap at you.

He was so frustrated about the fact you forgot about him that he had no control over what he said.

He talked and talked. About not being able to trust you with your promises. About how he was tired of worrying about you when you suddenly disappear without a word. About how he was tired of waiting for you, thinking you decided to leave him, making him feel like a fish out of water.

And hearing about you being such an unreliable and bad person was truly painful.

His anger eventually led to you storming out of his studio in tears, not wanting to hear any more accusations against you.

You didn't cheat on him, didn't do anything wrong. That's why this sudden aggression from him made you so upset.

And only while standing alone in his studio Rafayel realized that he had made things worse. He didn't want you to leave him, yet this is exactly what happened.

He tried calling you, texting you. But all he got was silence.

Bonus happy ending:

After a few days the silence between you two became unbearable. He felt like he was in agony.

When you heard the doorbell ring in the evening, you didn't expect to see Rafayel looking like a wet, sad puppy. It seemed that he had been caught in the rain and had come to see you anyway.

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other before finally lifting his gaze to look at you.

"I'm sorry. I acted like a total jerk. Please, I can't exist in isolation anymore, not being able to hear your voice or see you. You can even scold me till the end of time if you want, just don't leave me."

You missed him as much as he missed you. So you let him in.

Zayne

Sometimes Zayne was incredibly tired at work. Not just physically, but mentally.

At this time, he wanted more than anything to just rest and forget about all important matters. If such a thing was even allowed for a surgeon as busy as he was.

Maybe he'd be able to do it even more often if he didn't have to occasionally wait for you to show up for an appointment.

Especially since periodically you completely forgot about them. And in the worst cases, you were not only late, but didn't show up at all.

Usually, he would just lightly scold you, which didn't cause any problems. After all, it was Zayne's way to show that he cared about you.

But today was a particularly hard day at work.

So when you walked into his medical office, Zayne was sitting at his desk, massaging the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

And your excessive cheerfulness at that moment didn't make the situation any better. You sat down across from him with a smile. But he only shook his head, tired and disappointed.

"You forgot about your appointment again and decided to reschedule it for tonight?"

You smiled awkwardly, but didn't have time to say anything.

Oh, how annoyed he was, scolding you for how negligent you were about your health, ignoring all of his recommendations. He said that sometimes he felt like you are his personal headache. Except he couldn't get rid of you.

And he was too tired to notice how quickly the smile disappeared from your face, giving way to tears.

Before he could say anything, you threw the stack of papers with your test results on his desk, almost running out of his office.

The situation had gone far beyond what was acceptable, but Zayne realized it too late.

He tried to call you and even drove to your place right after his shift ended, but he was left standing in front of the closed door.

Maybe it would've been better to just let you cool off.

But with your silence, a devastating feeling settled in Zayne's heart. He was so, so sorry.

Bonus happy ending:

After a couple days of agonizing silence, he wanted nothing more than to see you. He managed to catch you before you went into your apartment.

You avoided his gaze, but you didn't leave, giving him time.

"I'm sorry. You're not a headache. I was having an awfully rough day at the time, so I snapped. It won't happen again."

Now you could clearly see the remorse in his eyes. You missed him so much and just couldn't push him away again.

After all, everyone can have an argument. The main thing is to be able to deal with the situation correctly.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year ago

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the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #IT'S AN OFF TO HOGWARTS KIDFIC TADA

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cheenapri · 17 days ago

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Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day ???

Summary: Illumi wants to get reacquainted with you after you escaped from him

Word Count: 3.9k

AN: Can we pretend it didn't take me half a year to finish this pls. This is also the last installment for Transactional, anything I write for Illumi in the future will be unrelated

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is not very nice, reader gets strangled

Day One Day Two + Three Day Four + Five

The cool night air felt nice against your skin. You take a deep breath, looking down at your feet as you continue walking. The song of the crickets was barely audible against the sound of honking cars and other city noises. You pull your jacket tighter against yourself to ease the faint anxiety that always ate away at you.

You were returning to the motel you currently stayed at after finishing your last shift at your part-time job. Your job was nondescript, just like your disguise; an under-the-table job at a diner. It was perfect for a runaway such as you as it didn’t require IDs and paid in cash. You were offered the job by a sweet older woman you’d become friends with, her kindness extended as she had also given you a phone free of charge. It was an old model, but you were ecstatic nonetheless.

You felt stable as a pattern in your daily life began to form without unbearable dread scaring you into hopping onto the next bus and fleeing to another city. You hadn’t thought about his name quite as much but it never truly left your mind. The anxiety coupled with expectations of his long, sharp claws snatching you away at any moment slowly dissipated each time it failed to happen.

You have learned to live again.

You were no longer going hungry for days at a time, stealing food and water just to evade starvation. You were no longer forced to sleep outside if you even could sleep, worried you were too exposed and he’d come to scoop you up in any minute. You no longer had to wear the same clothes for days on end, the rainwater being the only thing rinsing them and making them somewhat clean again.

Finding a serious buyer for the wedding ring he had given you was awfully difficult, from scammers who lied and told you it was a fake ring to almost getting robbed a few times. It was a good thing he told you how much it was worth that one time, casually spilling that he had spent one-hundred fifty-five million yen on it. As much as you wanted all of that cash, you had to settle with one million as you were becoming desperate and needed the funds to take care of yourself.

After you were able to secure the money, you immediately got yourself a cheap motel room, some food, and some new clothes, using the rest of it to fund your travels. You never stayed at motels for long, making sure to stay on the road and get as far away from that evil man as you could. You honestly thought your escape would be fruitless, that he’d find and kill you almost immediately, but as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you wondered if he was even looking for you. Sure, you had drastically changed your appearance, but you were certain he wouldn’t need to look so hard to know it was you.

To this day, you still wonder if you actually escaped or if he had willingly let you go.

After weeks of begging and feigning passionate favors, you found yourself on yet another date with him — your last date with him. He had taken it upon himself to take you out whenever he felt you’d earned it, the requirements for earning it always seeming to change based on his mood.

You felt like some kind of stress reliever, maybe that’s why he kept you around.

At least he hadn’t hurt you in a long while, or rather “disciplined” as he liked to call it. It was probably because you weren’t challenging his delusions anymore, allowing him to convince himself and others that you two were a normal, happy couple. He even began to trust you a bit, initially allowing you time out in the garden under Shiori’s supervision before allowing you to explore freely.

His family had warmed up to you as he’d said. Not in the sense that you all hung out and drank tea together, but rather in the sense that they either ignored you or treated you like you were a pet. They rarely ever refer to you by name if at all. Kikyo especially as she took it upon herself to “teach” you how to better serve her son. Her teachings were always mentally draining.

Kalluto was the most bearable Zoldyck. He wasn’t intimidating, overwhelmingly at least, he never said a word, and he never made any effort to hurt you. He only seemed curious at your existence, like you were some brand new undiscovered species. As long as he kept his distance when watching you, you had no issues with him.

Silva seemed to view you as a spectacle but never looked at you for more than a few seconds, Zeno even less. That was a guess, however, as you were too afraid to look either of them in the eye. They were aware of that and seemed to respect you since they avoided you as much as you avoided them, even if it was more so to preserve their eminence.

You hadn’t seen Milluki since the dinner, only hearing news of him from eavesdropping, and you thankfully hadn’t been forced to go back to the Zoldyck mansion for another agonizing family meal either. Shiori wasn’t as active in her role as your assigned butler, but your captor had been in his role as your “husband”. You got that skylight you wanted though it was at the price of your dignity.

You shake your head before rubbing your temples, not wanting to let your mind wander to something that was long in the past. Picking your head back up, your speed quickens, carrying you inside the near-empty motel lobby and into the elevator.

Your phone buzzes.

You fumble around in your pocket for it, pulling it out and tapping the message notification from your boss. It read:

“I appreciate your hard work today. Your paycheck should come in tomorrow.”

The elevator shudders as it ascends, but your eyes remain fixed on your phone’s screen, the three little dots implying she had something more to say.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want you to know that I’m here if you ever need anything or need to talk to someone.”

You had never told anyone you’d stumbled across the truth about your situation, afraid they’d be endangered if that man found out about it. You didn’t need to, however, as your anxieties were written on your face clear as day despite your best efforts.

You clutch the phone in your hands. This was all so unfair. You hold the very object that would allow you to communicate with your family, to call for help, but you’re unable to do so, his past threats towards your family a constant reminder every time you thought about calling them.

You refuse to put anyone else in danger.

The elevator dings as its doors open, revealing a dimly lit corridor before you. You slowly begin walking, your phone still open on your boss’ text message as you’re unsure of what to say. You desperately want someone to confide in, someone to tell your traumatizing story to, but you won’t do it at the cost of their life. Your thumb squeezes the power button, shutting the phone off and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As you reach the corner you must turn down to get to your room, you stop. It’s eerily silent. Your head hurts. You feel sick.

Your phone buzzes again, echoing within the empty halls.

“Maybe we can sit down and chat before you leave tomorrow if you’re comfortable?”

You continue and turn the corner, looking down at the text before turning the phone off once again and slipping it into your pocket, chalking up your sudden nausea to your recent thoughts about him.

You stop. Your room is at the end of the hall, you stand mere feet away from completing your recent daily routine and yet you’re unable to get yourself to move like you had many times before.

It was simple: wake up, go to work, go “home”, go to sleep, rinse, repeat. However, your daily pattern never featured a strange man standing still as a statue right by your motel room door.

Your expression is almost as blank as his, you’re unable to react. You stare at him as he does at you, neither of you saying a word. His jaw ever so slightly clenched, his pointer finger twitching, his eyes unblinking.

This headache will kill you before he does.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice an unfortunate familiarity. His tone is calm as always. Slowly, he inspects you from his spot, not commenting on your failure to greet him as he had “taught” you while he takes in your disguise. He hums to himself, quiet yet audible enough for you to hear. “I’m not a fan of the new look.”

His words were blunt, his eyes meeting your gaze once more. “You disappeared for a while.” He pauses momentarily and allows the tension to build as his stare remains fixated on you. “I thought someone else had gotten to you first.”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Your mouth feels dry yet you swallow hard, the reality of the situation fully sinking in as you’re face-to-face with the one person you never wanted to see again: Illumi Zoldyck.

He’s angry, he has to be.

He was interfering with your plans. You were supposed to pack up and leave the motel tomorrow in search of another hiding spot to avoid this very event. How did he even find you after all this time? Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities. You know you didn’t leave any traces because you couldn’t leave any, all products were purchased in cash or discretely stolen, your face covered and head low at all times, and you never stayed in one spot for too long until recently. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable? Unable to think logically, you slowly put your hands up in a defensive position, your body shifting as you take a step back.

“Don’t move.” He reaches out toward you — the space suddenly feels colder. Your body freezes as instructed despite the possibility of your freedom or even your life coming to an end. “You’ve run enough. Come here.”

You stay still, afraid to move let alone bridge the gap between the two of you. Illumi is static, still standing in his position with his arm outstretched to you. You’re like a deer in headlights, your face expressing nothing but pure terror to the man before you. Maybe you’ll turn invisible if you remain still enough…

“I won’t be so forgiving if I have to come to you,” Illumi threatens, a slight frown on his face.

What’s the difference if he’s going to torture and kill you either way? Wouldn’t it be better for him to be rough so you could die faster?

“Come here,” Illumi repeats once more, a much more commanding tone in his voice. You were in no position to test his patience.

Tears begin stinging your eyes as reality sinks in even further, your heart burying itself into your stomach. With shaky legs, you take a slow step toward him. Your eyes dart from door to door hoping that if you stalled long enough, someone would come out and discover the two of you. Normally you wouldn’t wish anyone the misfortune of stumbling across Illumi, but your morals seem to dissipate now that you are being confronted.

Illumi remains silent as you cautiously approach him, your eyes wide and your steps hesitant. Your fear grows stronger the closer you get to him. You flinch when he lowers his arm, your mind convinced that every movement he made was malicious.

“You’ve been very busy, haven’t you?” Illumi asks sarcastically, the sarcasm in his voice is barely noticeable and the question almost seems legit. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, though that was your plan from the beginning.”

He holds his hand out to you, the unspoken command for you to take it obvious. You hesitate, however, as past incidents of him crushing your hand as punishment resurface in your mind. He’ll start by breaking your hands before breaking your legs and then finally breaking your neck, leaving you crumpled and gasping for air in the motel’s hallway.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. “Give me your hand.” Illumi verbalized his command as his patience was running out.

You’re visibly shaking, the tears in your eyes now overflowing. Slowly, you bring your trembling hand forth, cringing a few times as you envision yourself putting it in the mouth of a metal shredder. With your fate unavoidable, you place your hand in his, eyes shut tightly and head lowered as you mentally prepare for what’s to come.

Silently, he takes hold of it with his other hand, pulling you closer to him. Illumi took note of your every reaction. The recoiling at his sudden movements, the shivering when his hand rubbed against yours, and, of course, your blatant anticipation of what he’ll do next.

His eyes move from your face to your fingers — narrowing slightly as the object he was looking for seems to be missing. He underestimated just how reckless you were, though the thought of you doing what he secretly dreaded was always possible.

He’s quiet, attention focused on your ring finger as if trying to manifest the symbol of your bond with him out of thin air. His anger was palpable.

“Hm… you sold it,” he states, tone flat and expression unreadable. “How much?”

Your hand trembles, his itching to squeeze with intent to crush. You grumble your answer, voice timid as your eyes look off to the side. Before you could even react, his hand springs forth and grabs your jaw in a vice-like grip — his hold is dangerously close to your neck. Illumi forces your head up, his gaze meeting yours.

He doesn’t say anything, only holding you in this unfortunate position. You let out a deep breath through your nose, your eyes shutting as you repeat yourself in a louder tone, “O-One million yen.”

Illumi abruptly releases his hold as if disgusted with you, his actions a stark contrast to your prediction of him immediately ripping your head off. He mentally repeats the number, his internal resentment battling over which to be more furious over: you being stupid enough to sell your binding to him, especially for such a low amount, and then using the cash to run away from him, or you being stupid enough to even think about selling your binding to him at all?

Ultimately, he chose both.

Quietly, Illumi reaches into his pocket, eyes still trained on you as he retrieves the motel’s master key. He then turns to swiftly unlock your room’s door, stepping back and gesturing for you to head inside.

You don’t move, and the itch to run becomes more tempting. Seeing your hesitation, Illumi takes it upon himself to guide you inside, placing a hand on your lower back and practically shoving you into the room. Once the both of you are inside, he shuts and locks the door behind him with clear finality, watching as you back away and clumsily stumble onto the bed.

He doesn’t turn the lights on, the only light being from the moon’s glow through the window. He steadily moves toward you before stopping just shy of the window, the moonlight partially illuminating his features. He seemed less controlled, almost giving you a death stare in his own way.

“Go on,” he says, a noticeable edge to his voice. His request was open-ended, its implication meaning anything. He wanted to see just how stupid you were.

You scratch your head and think of thousands of ways to die at that very moment. If you’d gotten a gun from a shady seller, you could’ve made your unplanned interaction with Illumi short and messy — if you were even able to grab it. Maybe if you piss him off enough he’d deem you unworthy and side with his inner instincts, wasting no more time and snuffing the life out of you efficiently.

“You’re…” you start, ”You’re suffocating me. I just want to live.” Your arms wrap around you as you seek comfort in this unfortunate predicament.

Illumi takes his time processing your weak excuse, the weight of his scrutiny becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second. He tilts his head, “You think you can live without me?”

“I can and I did for several months!” Your voice no longer felt weak. You shut your eyes as your deep-seated disdain for him builds even further within you — your mind no longer concerned about the possible repercussions. What more did you have to lose anyway?

“You weren’t living, you were surviving.” Illumi straightens his head. He allows time for his words to sink in as he takes in the sight of you again, his eyes flicking over your cheap hoodie, worn-out shoes, and tired, yet angry eyes. “The streets hadn’t been very good to you, I see.” His eyes move to make contact with yours. “You look a mess.”

“You’ve made me look worse!” You grit your teeth. Without thinking, all your pent-up anger was released at that very moment — the worst moment. “You’ve taken everything from me and you treat me like shit! You don’t know what love is! You’re horrible and I hate you!”

At that, he moved. The air around you shifted — a menacing, yet familiar energy you realized you hadn’t felt until now. You’ve provoked him, that much evident from the visible frown on his face and a slight furrowing of his brow.

“You talk too much.” He closes the distance between you and shoves you down onto the bed. Your breath hitches, your hands up defensively as you prepare to fight a battle you know you won’t win.

His movements are deliberately slow as if the anticipation was intended to be its own form of punishment. You go to move backward, to relieve yourself — even momentarily — of his overwhelming presence, but he pushes you down again. The bed dips under his weight, his hands moving ever so slowly towards your neck. Knowing this wasn’t a bluff, you grab his wrists and try in vain to push them away.

You’re too weak.

“You’re in no position to speak to me in such a manner. Here, I’ll show you.” His hands grip your neck with immense pressure, causing you to gasp and claw at his wrists.

Illumi remains reasonably calm, externally at least, as he watches you struggle beneath him. “(Name),” he says. His grip loosened completely which allowed you to breathe. You continued coughing as you took in deep breaths but your sense of relief was quickly snatched away as his hands squeezed again. “(Name),” he calls again.

An overwhelming sense of dread embodies you as you realize that he is actually going to kill you. You’re unable to deny your survival instincts forcing you to fight back despite a smaller part of you reasoning that this was the happy ending you so desperately wanted.

Illumi’s grip loosens once more, his gaze softens watching you spring back to life and greedily suck in oxygen. He relished in the control he lacked over you for so long. He wants something from you and you know that.

“I’m… sorry!” you manage to force out between breaths. You’re crying hysterically now, apologizing again and again as you don’t wish for your final moments to be as humiliating as this.

“For what? What did you do this time, (Name)?” Illumi asks calmly, his fingers digging into your neck the more you try to pry them off.

You hesitate despite the situation. You’re not sorry. You’re not sorry for a damn thing. Your lungs are burning though so you have no choice. “I’m… sorry for… run-running away…”

Illumi hums, his black eyes boring into you. “Running away wasn’t your only offense. What else have you done?”

Your head is spinning though you’re still able to breathe somewhat. You tap his wrist, a pathetic admittance of defeat. He doesn’t let go though.

“Please… get off me,” you beg. He ignores your pleas and keeps you pinned beneath him, his thumbs ready to press down on your windpipe at any given moment.

“You haven’t admitted all your wrongdoings. You haven’t fully apologized,” he states flatly.

“I don’t-“

You’re cut off as he crushes your throat, his eyes narrowing. “You do.”

You’re beginning to panic again. You’re unable to rack your brain for whatever thing you’d done to warrant such an assault.

Illumi could feel your pulse quickening. The temptation to squeeze just a bit more until it slows to a halt is overwhelming. He’s had you at his mercy before, but he had never thought of actually going through with it. His eyes are glued to you, taking in the drooping of your eyelids, the paleness of your skin, and how your body is relaxing. Even now as you’re being rightfully punished for daring to betray him, you still manage to humanize him – forcing him to feel something he was taught to suppress.

He hated it.

But he hated the way he hesitated even more.

Illumi releases your throat, and you spring back to life. You have no tears left to cry, only coughs and hoarse sobs as you replenish your oxygen. It was clear to Illumi that you were simply too stupid and stubborn to be sorry, and that it would be a waste of time to continue forcing disingenuous apologies out of you.

That’s okay. You’ll come around.

He slides off of you and fixes his clothes as if nothing had even happened. His calm, blank expression slipped back into place as he took in your small motel room. “This is what you’ve run to.” His voice carries a hint of mockery.

There was a lack of concern for your struggling figure on the bed, only disapproval as if you were acting. Your throat ached, and your head spun. Why were you still here?

“You’ve proven you are incapable of handling any ounce of freedom given to you. You cannot be trusted to make decisions on your own. You don’t know what’s good for you… that’s why you need me.”

He returns to the bed, standing over you once more. “Get up,” he says, “it’s time to go.”

Though you knew it was coming since death failed to, your heart sank at the thought of stepping foot in that wretched place once again. You let out a strangled sob, your limbs quaking as you force yourself up.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, (Name).” Illumi places a not-so-comforting hand on your shoulder. “We have to ensure this incident won’t happen again.”

His subtle threat confirmed the plans he had in store for you. Your body refused to move as the realization that you were back at square one sunk in, but you forced yourself onto your wobbly legs as you were only delaying what was clearly inevitable.

He wouldn’t forgive you – you knew that – and the treatment you’d receive would be much, much worse.

#yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere illumi #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #male yandere

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pookietv · 4 months ago

Text

something sooner | arthurtv

you asked for arthurtv smut and here i am to deliver!!! i am lowkey quite proud of this one soooo :3

cw: smut

arthur had always viewed you as the whirlwind of energy in his life. sure, he wasn't a complete homebody, but when he compared himself to you, he felt like one. you were always somewhere, museums, restaurants, clubbing: if something was on, you were there.

but despite that, you and arthur had remained friends over the years - late night catchups and your constant loop of new stories from strange situations you always seemed to wind up in made his life seem more exciting.

so when he asked to meet up with you, there was no surprise on his end when he got a text back reading

'i'm out right now, but i'd love to see you later if you wanna come by mine for a few drinks or something, maybe around teatime?'

so he had spent the day waiting patiently lumbering around his house. and he didn't mind waiting around for you, he really didn't. you were like some sort of mini celebrity in his eyes, in the way he felt lucky to even be near you, that you constantly made time for him in a way he felt you did for so few others.

he had spent some time trying to wrestle with the fact that these feelings were probably more than friendship, and now had come to accept it. friends didn't feel like this about their friends, he realised, and had accepted the fact that what he felt towards you was far past even a small crush, and could possibly even class as infatuation.

but that was an issue he felt that he could bury down and ignore, thinking it would inevitably ruin your friendship, and he'd rather have some of you then none, he'd tell himself.

as soon as he felt it was socially acceptable to call it 'teatime', he dragged himself over to your apartment as quickly as he could, arriving at your door and giving it three brief knocks, to which he heard your soft, sing-song voice 'come in!', and he did just that.

taking off his jacket and slipping off his shoes as he always did, you wandered towards him from your kitchen, a sweet smile plastered on your face as you spotted him, and embraced him in a hug.

you noticed how good he looked, in his plain black shorts and a white shirt, 'whales of the world', an outfit he must have worn a hundred times in front of you, but yet he never failed to make it look so good.

as soon as his nose buried in your hair for a moment, he recognised that you smelled a little different than you normally did, an overwhelming saccharine smell.

"smells like you've been having a feast," he grinned, hanging up his coat as he looked down at you.

you rolled your eyes a little at his joke, "hm, i've been to the cinema, maybe it's that?"

"you were at the cinema? should have said, i would have come with," he smiled nonchalantly, and your slight smile faulted awkwardly for a moment as you laughed a little.

"oh, i wasn't alone, was with someone," you responded, a slight shrug as you walked into the front room, his padding footsteps an indication he was following not far behind.

"well, i forgot you had other more important friends than me," he said jokingly, sitting himself down on the sofa next to her as you casually sat facing him, back against the armrest of the sofa and your feet resting gently against arthur's lower thigh.

"wasn't a friend, was more of a date type thing," you hummed out slightly, and as the words fell so simply off her tongue, arthur could feel his heart sink slightly.

processing the words felt like a slight knife twist in his gut, the slight twinkle of hoping against hope that you had maybe liked him back felt like a stamped out light. the relaxed way you had said date, like it was no big deal, had cut him slightly deeper than he had expected.

he felt like he had been so foolish, to think he could act like just your friend. his voice sounded slightly more timid, and restrained as he murmured out, "a date?"

you nodded, your eyes slightly avoiding his, and instead picking at your own fingernails. "yeah, it was nice. the movie was cool, actually, quite funny. i laughed so hard at one point i felt like if looks could kill, i would have frozen to death in the cinema seat." you laughed a slight bit.

he could feel the disappointment wash over him. he had always felt like he had a piece of you, in a way - even if that thought was just to pacify his feelings, he felt the way you always made sure he was involved, always checking up on one another, your trust in him, the way you always leaned on him, or were touching in some sort of way, he felt, was some level of intimacy.

thinking of you laughing with someone else was a bitter pill to swallow.

he forced out his voice, "that's great," he managed to say, "i'm glad you had fun,"

you smiled, but it didn't fully reach your eyes - arthur had been more reserved tonight, you had thought. "yeah, it was good. i might see him again, who knows,"

he felt like the burning feeling in his chest was an indication, or a force, that he had to say something.

"um, hey," he started, his voice quietened. you could see the slight red on his cheeks, a nervous tinge, "i think i need to tell you something."

you looked up at him, head tilted slightly, expectant.

"i... i think i might be in love with you." he blurted out, the words hanging heavy in the air for a moment.

your eyes widened in surprise, the blood rushing to your face and gracing your cheeks in the way he felt was so perfectly you, gracing your face like the most modern work of art in history.

"i.. i didn't know," you murmured out, voice shy. "i always thought you just saw me as a friend,"

seeing you shy was something he never thought he'd see - you, his most outgoing friend, the girl that somehow knew everyone, and got invited to everything.

"how could i not like you?" he continued, trying his best to keep his voice steadied, "i've always liked you. just didn't think you liked me,"

the red on your cheeks excited arthur, as you looked away embarrassed, "i did," you admitted softly, "just figured we were friends, so i, uh, pushed my feelings aside,"

arthur felt his heart pounding like a war drum, as the air in the room felt thicker.

he leaned closer to you, the distance between you almost non existant, as you could feel his breath against your skin, almost raising goosebumps.

"if i had known," he murmured out, "i would have done something sooner,"

your own breath hitched slightly, as your head cocked, almost inquisitive, "like what?" you murmured out.

his eyes darkened slightly as he looked down at you, thinking of all the times he had spent pining after you, the slight brushes of your skin against him making him feel hot, and he couldn't believe that all the time he had spent in near agony at the thought of you with someone else, it hadn't ever been something you noticed.

"like this," he murmured, almost feverishly closing the gap between you, the touch of his lips against yours like a crackle of electricity, "would have done this," he continued, before you could even respond, his lips moved slightly, to the line of your jaw, his finger tilting your head upwards slightly as you felt his stubble brush against you, the feeling leaving your mind spinning, "would have touched you, like i've been thinking of doing for so long,"

the need in his voice, longing thick with desire sent a wave of heat through your body, a slight moan leaving you, gentle fingers weaving up to tangle in his hair, tugging slightly.

his other hand quickly moved to lay against your waist, thumb brushing agonisingly slow against your lower stomach, before he pulled back slightly, breaths still heavy, eyes slightly darkened with lust.

"fuck, i... is this okay? i, don't want you to feel any pressure or anything, i just-" he mumbled out, before your hands were quick to reach against the hem of his top, tugging shyly.

"please don't stop, arthur," you said softly, voice almost a whine, but to him it was like a blessing, the sight of you tugging at his shirt and the slight pleading in his voice only stoked the fuel beginning to rage in him, and he eagerly nodded, grinning to himself slightly, his hands moving to his own shirt and pulling it over his head with ease.

"don't think i could stop, even if i wanted to," he panted out slightly, his fingers moving up to the fabric of your own shirt, peeling it from your head in an impatient speed, a slight groan leaving his lips as his eyes fell on your bare chest. "you're so pretty," he murmured against your skin, his teeth gently grazing against your perked nipple.

slight mewls escaped you, one of your hands gently grasping around his upper arm, the heat of his skin comforting as you squeezed slightly, "want you so bad, arthur," you said, almost shy, and you heard a slight chuckle from him.

"the last thing i expected from you was to be so shy," he said, looking at you through his eyelashes with a grin. "can't hear you, lovie," he teased playfully, thumbs tucking into the waistband of your pants, easing them down slowly.

"please, arthur, i want you so bad," you whined out, a little louder now, hips raising slightly as your trousers became discarded onto the floor, leaving you in a pair of lacy panties, still pressed against the armrest of your sofa, arthur pressed above you, head level with your lower stomach.

"i know, sweetheart, soon," he smirked slightly, the pad of his thumb running over the dampened material of your underwear, "just wanna take my time with you, been waiting for this for so long," he murmured, beginning to draw soft circles through the material.

"don't wanna take time, pleas-" you tried to mumble out, but you were met with almost a condesending 'shh' from arthur, as he pulled down your underwear, leaving you bare in front of him, arousal practically drooling from you.

"so wet already?" he murmured out, and before you had anymore time to pathetically plead with him, his forearms moved to clamp around your thighs, lips attaching to you, making an embarrassingly loud moan fall from your lips.

his tongue dragged up from your entrance to your clit, his mouth giving a slight bit of suction, tongue rolling across your sensitive bud as the breath felt sucked from your lungs, it was all you could do to pant out a soft, "oh... fuck," and feel his lips curl into a slight grin against you.

"y'taste so good," he practically groaned against you, almost feeling his pants tighten, it was all too much - the sweet little noises, your hips bucking up and the taste of you almost felt like overstimulation, but the best kind.

the longer he shoved his face into your soaked cunt, the more that it wasn't enough to eat you out until you were whining, he needed to be inside you.

so with a soft final lick against you, he lifted his head up with a grin.

you, on the other hand, denied of the connection, whimpered out almost desperately, breaths shortened and needy, left feeling almost dazed. "arthur..." you pleaded, but as he lifted himself up slightly, tugging down his own shorts and taking himself into his hand, already painfully hard, you could almost feel your mouth water.

you reached your hand out, grasping his length, thumb rubbing slightly over the tip, making him almost buck up into your hand, making you giggle slightly.

it wasn't long before he couldn't take anymore, and lined himself up with you, the tip nudging at your sensitive spot slightly before pressing against your entrance, using your arousal to lubricate himself, one of your hands reaching up to rest on his shoulder, the other tugging gently at his hair as a plea to hurry up.

with a smooth motion, he pushed himself forward, the stretching sensation making your head spin, the controlled movement as he pushed himself deeper, the base of his cock touching you as he bottomed out, pressing warm, slightly haphazard kisses against your shoulder, before gently biting at your collarbone, trying to muffle slightly in his own grunt of pleasure from the noises you were making, and the snug tightness of your walls gripping him. the stretch you felt subsided into a satisfying fullness, and whines escaped you needily.

"arthur, please," you pleaded out, eyes glassed and lidded, practically half shut.

without another moment to breathe, his hips pulled out of you, and thrusted forward, the unexpected force almost winded you as his hips began to move quickly, a fluid motion, jerking your body with each movement, as you allowed your forehead to rest against arthur's shoulder.

"f-fuck, you feel so good, so so good," he practically grunted under his breath, one hand holding himself up and the other tightly squeezing your hip, gently rocking it against his own, creating friction that could only make you mewl out whines louder. you were close to dumb, only noises escaping you being increasingly pathetic moans and the occasional expletive.

arthur taking control wasn't something you had expected, but fuck you weren't complaining, his hand that had been squeezing your plush skin instead working it's way towards your clit, your own thighs opening even wider, eagerly, head thrown back as the circles he rubbed against your sensitive spot matched the rougher thrusts.

his eyes were practically glued to your face, watching each little twist and contortion as your eyes screwed shut and your lips fell beautifully open, and he felt filled with pride, in an odd way.

"taking me so well, fuck," he groaned out, and the way you gripped at his shoulder tighter in response made him chuckle. you liked when he praised you.

each breath was practically a gulp down for air as you felt your orgasm approaching, the familiar tightness clutching at your stomach, your hips rocking slightly in a desperate effort to reach it sooner, the repeated feeling of his cock hitting your cervix enough to leave you tongue-tied and stupid, arthur's concentration almost admirable, in a complete rut as each thrust felt only growing rougher by the second.

"i know you're close, baby," came from under his breath as he straightened himself up slightly, stopping supporting himself and instead using the other hand to grasp at your thigh, allowing him to thrust into you quicker, the increased pace making him look almost drunk, the new harshness practically pushing you over the edge, each touch at the bundle of nerves weakening you.

"fuck, arthur, 'm gonna..." you babbled out, the intense sensation washing over you, thighs shaking around his hips, as frenzied whines were torn from your throat, your lower body going limp as the familiar knot snapped, euphoria dizzying any thoughts in your head, the orgasm only being rode out as he continued to jerk into you.

"i'm so close, baby, god, you look so pretty when you come, i-" he moaned out as you felt him release, the look on his face showing pure light-headed intoxication, cum painting your insides as the room went quiet for a moment, besides the loud pants from both of you as he gently pulled himself out of you.

"'m sorry, was i too rough?" he spoke out between catching breaths, his fingers quickly carding through your hair in an apologetic manner.

"no, no. was perfect." you murmured out, body completely taken over and exhausted as you lifted your head a little to look at him, eyes lidded and sleepy.

"you look tired," he grinned slightly, taking in the view: you, bare before him, completely ruined by him, and all for him to see. "i must have done a good job if i've worn you out."

"mhm. sorry, i get like this sometimes, always so sleepy after sex," you mumbled, made slightly shy again, cheeks still flush from before.

"s'okay, it's cute." he said back, before standing himself up, pulling on just his boxers, "gonna go get you some clean clothes, something to wipe you up with and some water, okay lovie?" he said gently, and you nodded with a dumb, happy smile on your face.

"arthur?" you said softly, and he stopped at your doorway with a similarly dopey smile.

"uh huh?" he replied, and as you looked at him, hair all a mess and in just his boxers, caringly going to make sure you had everything you needed.

"does this mean i get to be your girlfriend?" you said shyly, and arthur could have sworn his heart melted right there.

#arthur frederick #arthur frederick x reader #arthur tv #arthurtv #arthurtv smut #arthur frederick smut #arthur tv smut #arthur tv x reader #arthurtv x reader #smut

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then.

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow.

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this.

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare.

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much?

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back.

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now.

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day.

One day.

Three hundred days, all wasted in one.

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one.

And then it just… ended.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself.

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own.

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back.

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands.

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up.

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again.

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes.

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up.

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it.

But God, you were so in love.

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up.

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him.

You killed each other.

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it.

He was your first true love.

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once.

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter.

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget.

You need to forget Matt Murdock.

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #angst #no happy ending #songfic #is it over now by taylor swift #elektra natchios #frank castle #frank castle x reader #x gender neutral reader #elektra natchios x matt murdock #cheating trope #lizzi writes #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines

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dear--mars · 7 months ago

Text

Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?

── Synopsis: Soulmates. The concept sounded unreal, too good to be true. And it seemed it was. Nothing lasts forever and the thought of being together even in another world was just a dream.

── Characters: Blade, Aventurine, and Veritas

── CW: can't find anything. (please let me know if I missed any.)

── Notes: kinda occ ngl... [angst/no comfort]

── Word count: 591 + 891 + 867 = 2349 words in total

Blade ── Blade was a wandering soul. Both of you knew that and yet you still tried to tie him down. But could you really be blamed?

How could you think he wanted anything else when all he did was send mixed signals? One moment he’s cold and distant then he’s all over you, being needy and needing your comfort. So was it any surprise when you eventually got tired of his on-and-off behavior?

So you left.

You started a new life on the small planet of Adion. You worked a job you actually liked, made new relationships, and never stressed too much about things that didn’t matter. It was the turning of a new leaf.

But with joy come sorrow and suffering.

A loud banging at your door echoed throughout your house. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to fall back asleep, but the noise breaks the peaceful sleep you’re so desperately clinging to.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes before taking a look at the clock for a few moments, it’s two in the morning. You had no idea what was going on but you had a familiar sense of deja vu that you couldn’t shake.

"Damn it… Who the hell is that?" You mumbled to yourself before getting out of bed to walk to the front door. But once you saw who was at your door, every hint of fatigue fled your body as your blood ran cold.

It was Blade.

You slightly faltered as your mind ran a hundred miles per hour trying to think of how he found you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step back, not wanting to be in his vicinity.

Wordlessly, Blade reached out and stopped you. In the past, you would’ve said that Blade was one of the hardest men to read but as of right now, you could tell every thought that ran through his head.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you haven’t seen each other for a few months. The slight tug on his eyebrows that showed frustration, the dark circles under his eyes told you that he hadn’t slept for a while, and lastly the desperation and relief hidden in his eyes.

“Why?” was the only thing he croaked out.

You immediately understood what he was asking and a flash of irritation crossed your face. “Are you serious? Why? Why did I leave?” You asked, finishing his question. When you saw him nod, you scoffed.

You pulled your hand away from his but it chased after your warmth instinctively. “Why wouldn’t I leave? What have you done for me to make me want to stay?” You spat out harshly.

Blade flinched and gritted his teeth. He reached out to grab your hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with yours. “Maybe not in this lifetime but do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” He mumbled out, clearly in a vulnerable state.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not anymore. You cared way too much in the past, it was time to move on from this chapter in your life. Time to move on from Blade. “Do you leave me in every universe?” Your tone was bitter.

Even more so than him. Only then did Blade truly realize just how much power you had over him. You could make him the happiest he had ever been, more than he thought he could be but you could also drag him into the deepest depths of pain and agony.

Aventurine ── Aventurine. What a man.

At times you couldn’t believe he was yours. Waking up next to him and seeing his smile made you fall in love with him all over again. But you should’ve suspected something was up with a man so perfect and flawless.

You should have anticipated this turn of events. The plot twist was so overused that the only appropriate response you could get out was laughter. Lovers betraying each other—how cliché.

How could someone be so blind just because of love? You couldn't fathom it. You hated this trope and Aventurine knew that. Maybe that’s why he was smiling ever so slyly when he revealed his true intentions.

After telling you the truth, Aventurine left your home cold and empty, taking any semblance of warmth with him. Years passed and you were forced to move on. Did you still love him deep down? Of course, but time moved forward whether you were ready or not.

Aventurine was born lucky. Being blessed by Gaiathra Triclops from birth, Aventurine grew up always having luck at his side. A fact that he hated but one that he relied on often.

That’s why he thought no matter what, he’d always win. But Aventurine hadn’t known that his ‘luck’ only really constituted physical ideas and plans, not emotions. Especially his or yours, not after everything he did to you.

Aventurine felt a void in his chest like something was missing. You, Obviously but he would never admit that. As “carefree” Aventurine is, he still has his pride. He used you even if it was for work, catching feelings wasn’t an option.

But it never hurt to see how you were doing, right?

That’s the excuse Aventurine used as he sat in your hotel room. He never would’ve thought you’d be here in Penacony but it worked out in his favor. (Everything always did.)

Aventurine hears the door creak open and footsteps but they stop as soon as you laid eyes on him. Your eyes widened, you could recognize that tuff of blond hair just about anywhere in the universe.

Your breathing gets a bit heavier as your hands curl into fists. Aventurine doesn’t need to turn around to see you’re upset but he does anyway. He wants to see your beautiful face after all.

God, you were extraordinary. Even after years of being apart, you still looked the same. If anything, you grew to be more attractive. Your soft skin, your plump lips, and your luscious hair that shined even under artificial lighting.

“Hey. It’s been a while, huh?” He asked, hiding his true feelings and masking them with a facade of confidence and nonchalance. “Never expected you to come to Penacony of all places.”

Your heart ached when Aventurine spoke to you with an air of familiarity. You hated how he acted like nothing happened between the you two. You ignored his words, cutting straight to the point. “What are you doing here.” You asked but it was more of a demand.

Aventurine raised his hands in mock surrender. “What’s with the hostility? I just came here to say hi and catch up.”

“Get out.” Your tone was bitter.

“Come on-” You cut him off,

“No. Get out of my room. Or wait, should I beg you to stay like last time so you’ll definitely leave?” You mocked, in slight disbelief of Aventurine’s audacity.

Aventurine ever so slightly faltered at your tone and words. “Okay, ouch.” He joked but deep down your actions hurt. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” But when Aventurine saw the glare in your eyes, he decided to drop the facade.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he did when he was feeling guilty or bad. “Do you remember our first anniversary? When we were having that picnic under that giant weeping willow?” He reminisced with a strained smile.

“You asked back then if we’d be soulmates in every universe and I said yes, knowing that I’d have to betray you. I feel like it’s my turn.” Aventurine paused and took a deep breath. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

You didn’t hesitate in cutting down any and all expectations, Aventurine held. “Why would you think that when you ruined it for us in this one?” You counted with a question of your own.

Aventurine froze before smiling, trying to mask the pain in his expression. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to say something so cruel but I understand,” Aventurine said with a smile, trying to act playful and nonchalant.

He then left your room without any more complaints. The truth of the situation didn't hit him until he saw you at the bar, laughing and drinking with another man. Maybe my luck has finally run out. He thought, trying to shove back any emotions from leaking out.

Aventurine had never truly wanted anything in his life. He couldn't afford the luxury of wanting something. He never asked for all the wealth he amassed or the luck he was born with. Hell, he didn’t even really want freedom. After being chained down for so long, Aventurine wouldn't know what to do if he was free.

But you were different.

He wanted you. But he couldn��t.

And that was what pissed him off the most.

Veritas ── Dating Veritas was not for the weakhearted. Due to his extreme talent and unparalleled intelligence, he holds himself in high regard. He comes off as candid, self-centered, and condescending.

Even mocking or narcissistic at times. But you knew him better. Veritas was just a bit too blunt but he was sensible and levelheaded. He wasn’t a bad person. In fact, it’s the opposite.

He firmly believes that intellect isn’t confined to geniuses and seeks to distribute knowledge to the entire universe, all to “cure” ignorance. He wants to help people but is just a bit odd or “mean” while doing it.

He does have a bit of an eccentric temperament but he meant well. That’s what you always told yourself but that excuse was starting to grow old. You were trying to be considered an understanding of where he was coming from, you always have been.

But you can only take so much. A person can only get knocked down so many times before they decide it's better to just stay on the floor. And it seemed you were reaching that breaking point with Veritas.

He would always point out your mistakes, nitpick something irrelevant, or just for the sake of it. You started to wonder if he even loved you. Never once did he really show affection toward you.

At first you tried to acknowledge that he might not feel comfortable with that but after years of being together, if he still wasn't comfortable enough with you to show basic affection… You couldn't help but wonder, what the hell have you been doing for the past four years of your life?

One day you had enough.

Your words rang clearly throughout his study, "Veritas, I think we should stop seeing each other." You said vaguely but the message was clear.

Veritas froze upon hearing your words, not expecting you to say such a thing. "Why?" he asked simply, the coldness now turning into a sharp tone. The suddenness of this topic left him confused, a part of him wanting to lash out at you, but he refrained.

"I just don't think we're compatible as a couple."

Veritas scoffed as soon as you finished speaking, feeling slightly annoyed at that word. Was 'compatibility' the thing that doomed their relationship? "So you have realised we are not compatible after so many years of being together?" His tone now sharp with the hints of slight aggression.

You didn’t flinch at his cold tone. "You don't have to get so defensive, I'm not blaming you." You said with a gentle expression, which was odd for you. You've always been more hot-headed and impulsive so seeing you like this was weird to Veritas.

"It's just that I want to be loved in a more open way and you can't provide that for me which is okay. That's just not you, and I don't want you to change yourself for me. I'm sure you're more suited with someone who's like yourself. I'm just not the person."

Veritas could tell by your calm explanation, that you’ve been thinking about this for quite some time and that fact stabbed his heart in a way he’d never felt before. "I tried my best to love you as much as I possibly can, but apparently that was not enough for you..."

"Just because you love me doesn't mean I feel loved." You countered and Veritas froze. "Let's think about it this way. Let's say you're trying to teach somebody something. It's easy for you so you have high expectations for the person you’re teaching. But that person just doesn't get it. They're trying their best but they're not understanding. You would feel upset or annoyed, right? Because their best isn't good enough for you." You tried to explain in a way he would understand.

“The fault wouldn't be placed on the person who's trying their best, it would be placed on the one who had unrealistic expectations.” You finished with a strained smile. You loved Veritas, with all your heart but you couldn’t go on like this.

Veritas had to stifle the urge to argue for a moment. He hated how accurate your example was, but he also understood your point. “Do you believe in fate? Destiny and or soulmates, things like that?“ He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Veritas was an intelligent man when it came to logic and reasoning. Things like destiny and fate weren't “logical” in the slightest. “I suppose.” You answered carefully.

“Do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” You blinked at Veritas’ question. Never in a million years would you have thought that he would ask you something like that. You sighed and decided to give him a taste of his own blunt medicine.

“Do you treat me like shit in every universe?” Veritas felt his heart shatter at your response. He didn’t know you felt like that. He didn’t know that he was treating you so badly to the point where’d you had to resort to this.

He regretted asking. This would perhaps be the only time he wished to remain ignorant, despite his life goal of getting rid of it.

- Navigation - - Supernova -

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr angst #hsr imagines #hsr fics #hsr headcanons #hsr drabbles #blade #blade x reader #blade angst #aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine angst #veritas #veritas x reader #veritas angst #marsworks

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icanhearcolors · 1 year ago

Note

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway.

He was something different now.

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already, he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there.

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here.

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor.

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?”

His voice is darker now. Persuasive.

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms.

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him.

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 #i have a problem

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scribbly-artist · 12 days ago

Text

Persuasion

Summary: It was always a battle to drag each other away from the lab, even when they were both on the brink of exhaustion. Viktor was being stubborn this time, however, Jayce has a trick up his sleeve that will persuade him.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to a very nice anon for sending the prompt for this one!! I apologise to not getting to this sooner, but I’ve had a bit of a rough week and last weekend I was out of town, so this took a little bit to get to. I had fun writing this one! Sometimes I get a little stuck writing Viktor, even though he’s my favourite. His way of speaking is hard to pin down (I find Jayce much easier somehow lol). But hey, I finally got to write them together this time! I hope you have fun reading. :) (And psst, if you’d like to see me write something in particular, feel free to send a prompt my way. ;) )

Words: ~1,200 | AO3 Link

Scrape scrape scrape.

This was the only noise that filled Jayce’s head as he stood a distance away from his partner, Viktor, writing on the blackboard in the laboratory.

They had been through another all-nighter, presently being in the early hours of the morning. The sun was just rising through the tall windows, the sky painted a beautiful mixture of colours… if only Jayce had the capacity to admire it.

Jayce and Viktor were no strangers to all-nighters. But these past few days in particular, they barely had much rest. And it’s been a while since Jayce has had any coffee. That wasn’t the case for Viktor, though. It seemed like the man never ran out of steam, regardless of how long he stayed awake - until his body just decides to collapse from exhaustion, which unfortunately has happened before.

Jayce was writing further notes in a book with a quill - he thought maybe changing writing utensils would inspire a breakthrough. But he couldn’t concentrate, not when his body was this fatigued. At this point, his legs felt like cement, eager to send his body crashing down.

“Viktor… don’t you think we should go and take a break?” Jayce let out a sleepy yawn, blinking slowly. He shook his head to try to ward off the drowsiness, but nothing seemed to be working.

“We’re close to something, Jayce. I can feel it.” Viktor didn’t even turn his head around to speak to Jayce directly - he just continued writing on the blackboard, the noise getting on Jayce’s frayed nerves.

“Look - I’m tired. And I’m sure you are, too. We can’t make Hextech as good as it deserves to be if we’re both exhausted. We need to go and recharge.” Jayce closed his notebook, quill in hand.

“You are free to leave if you so desire to, Jayce. However, I have much more to do.”

Jayce’s hand moved to rub his eyes, a heavy sigh leaving his lungs.

“We’re partners, Viktor. We need to do this together. Which means we should look out for each other, too. I know how drained you are, you just won’t show it. Do it for your health, V.”

Viktor paused for a moment at the mention of the nickname. But it was only for a second as he continued to scribble on the board, not giving a verbal response.

Jayce’s unsatisfied eyes bore into the back of Viktor’s head. Not that Viktor could feel his gaze or anything, he was too absorbed in his work. It looked like Jayce would have to resort to… other methods to get Viktor to listen to him. Methods he had to use rather often.

Jayce looked at Viktor, then at the quill in his hand. Then, back at Viktor…

Both men have used tried and true methods to pull each other out of the lab when the other needed a break. Enticing them with food or sleep, going for a walk, or literally dragging the other out kicking and screaming. It was all for the others' health and sanity. There was one method that Jayce was fond of using, as it had a one-hundred percent success rate when Viktor was being particularly stubborn.

Jayce took a few steps forward to approach Viktor so he was standing right behind him. Viktor didn't acknowledge his presence or his movement.

Holding the pen end of the quill, Jayce reached up and fluttered the feather end gently across the back of Viktor’s neck.

The reaction was instant.

Viktor dropped the piece of chalk that was in his hand, a clink as it hit the floor and broke in the middle. Viktor didn't turn his head.

Jayce wasn't expecting that reaction, but a reaction nonetheless. He kept tickling the nape of Viktor’s neck with the feather, a grin slowly forming on his face.

“Don't tell me you're ticklish here, too.” Jayce could only quietly chuckle as Viktor shook his head, shrugging his shoulders to try to ward the feather off.

Viktor finally turned himself around, his cheeks a little red. “No, o-of course not. Don't be ridiculous.” He took a breath and steeled himself, not letting anything slip as he turned back around, picking up another piece of chalk to try to concentrate.

“I dunno, it seems like it. Just a tiny bit.” Jayce’s grin widened.

Jayce decided to mess with him a little more. He flicked the feather from his neck to the side of his ear, swishing it up and down on the skin delicately.

Viktor put the piece of chalk back down, and used his hand to cover his mouth instead, his shoulders shaking. He would not give Jayce the satisfaction of winning this battle. But little did he realise this would just egg Jayce on further.

“What's wrong, Viktor? You're not going to work anymore? You put the chalk down,” Jayce commented aloud, he was too pleased with himself. This always seemed to happen - with either of them - when one had to drag the other out of the lab. “Think we should take a break now?”

“Jahahayce— I’m nearly done—“ it was hard for Viktor to get his words out as Jayce kept on switching the feather to tickle behind his ears and to the back of his neck. Whenever Viktor would try to crane his neck away or shrug his shoulders up to protect his ears, the feather would always follow. Despite his hand covering his mouth, his breathy laugh was slipping through. “Just— hehehe! J-Just five more minutes, alrihihight?” Viktor attempted to bargain with Jayce, but that wasn’t going to fly.

Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, as if it pained him to do this. “You’ve forced my hand, V.”

Without giving Viktor even a tick to register what Jayce had said, Jayce dropped the quill as his hands darted down to squeeze at Viktor’s hips, it was always a hotspot.

Viktor broke out into a loud cackle from surprise, dissolving into giggling. He made an attempt to grab at Jayce’s wrists, but he was much too quick as his hands darted to Viktor’s sides to skitter there. After a few moments, Viktor finally managed to grab Jayce’s wrists and pull them away from his body.

“FINE! Yohohou’ve convinced mehehe, Jayce.” Viktor sucked in a few breaths as he kept his hold on Jayce’s wrists, making sure Jayce wasn’t planning another tickly attack.

“I knew I could change your mind,” a smirk grew on Jayce’s face as he dropped his hands from Viktor’s wrist, placing one of his hands on Viktor’s shoulder instead. “Think we should grab something to eat and try to find a place to sleep for a few hours? After we get some much needed brain food, I know we can figure this out.”

“That would be ideal, yes.” Viktor gave a nod as he reached for his cane, getting himself ready to go. “We should go now, before I glue myself back to this board.”

“I agree. C’mon, time for some fresh air.” Jayce led the way as Viktor followed closely behind him, his cane clinking on the floor with each step.

It was hard work just convincing each other to leave the lab, on top of already being exhausted. Viktor in particular was always harder to persuade, so Jayce deserved a good nap after all of this.

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markhoffmans-certified-slut · 1 year ago

Text

7 Minutes In Heaven | Billy Loomis

Pairing: Billy Loomis x female!reader

Word count: 5K

Warnings/contents: Strong language, mild sexual innuendos, light fluff.

Notes: Sometimes I forget how hot Billy is when he's pissed off, and then I see this gif and I go... 😍🤤

I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter, I had a fun time trying to figure out what to do for it and I think that it ended up sort of good.

<>~<>~<>

The sofa dipped beside you as a warm arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you close; you were zoning out, staring at the wall behind your friends head for the past few minutes. The sudden action made you jump slightly as the man beside you let out a sigh and grinned.

“Wasn’t this a great party?” Stu asked, looking around at the room of dwindling guests. He was right— the party had been a success and gone nearly all night long; the sun was going to start coming up before you knew it and everyone started to show up to his house around six o’clock yesterday evening. Your eyes were tired as you glanced at the man and brought your cup to your lips.

“Yeah, it sure was.” You met Tatum’s eyes across the room and shifted awkwardly. She always knew that there was nothing going on between you and Stu— after all, you were constantly reminding her that he was like a brother— a very annoying brother. However that didn’t mean that you weren’t uncomfortable sometimes when she caught you with him like this. It was no secret that Stu had cheated on her over the summer. And that was the time she knew of. “You want anything from the kitchen?” You asked, knocking his arm off of your shoulder as you stood.

“Nah,” before he could finish his sentence, you started to head away and walk towards the bright kitchen. Blinking hard, you refilled your half empty cup and rubbed your tired eyes carefully, though you were certain your makeup had to be smudged already. It had been on for over twenty four hours now. You had come straight from work to Stu’s party.

The kitchen was a mess— you didn’t even want to know what the rest of the house looked like. Somehow Stu would get everything cleaned up before his parents got home, most likely with Billy’s help.

“Hey,” you looked over and sent your friend a smile when she peeked around the kitchen doorframe. “Stu wants to play a game before everyone leaves. Want to join?”

“Sure. What are we playing?” You asked, walking alongside Sidney to the sitting room. “Knowing Stu, probably something that ends with someone being naked.”

“It’s probably strip truth or dare,” she snickered, playing along with your joke. “Or strip “Never have I ever.”” The two of you shared another laugh before walking towards the small group of people left and sat down in the semi-formed circle. There were a few people that you recognized from high school, but then there were a lot more unfamiliar faces. You wouldn’t have been surprised if there were over two-hundred people in this house over the course of the past twelve hours.

“Alright everybody,” Stu started, though he tipped his head upwards and chugged the last bit of beer in a bottle that you hoped hadn’t been sitting there for too long, and sent the room a smirk. “We’re all playing seven minutes in heaven.” Tatum shot him a dirty look as you and Sidney shared a groan.

“Maybe we’ll get someone super drunk and we can make them forget what we’re playing,” Sidney whispered hopefully into your ear.

“Or maybe we’ll get thrown up on.” She cringed at the thought while you watched Stu set the bottle in the middle of the circle and ignored Tatum’s stare.

“So… who’s spinning first?” Sidney asked, glancing around the room of drunk and hungover college students hunched over with their head in their hands. The thought of being shoved against one of these strangers in the small closet made your stomach churn. You had sworn you’d seen several of the people in the circle throwing up earlier in the night.

“First to ask, first to spin.” Stu gestured to the daunting bottle on the floor. Sidney sent you a semi-timid look out of the corner of her eye, earning a huff from you.

“I’ll go first.” You leaned in, grasping the bottle by the neck and hoping that you would end up with someone who either hadn’t thrown up tonight, or who was less drunk than some of the others. You leaned back onto your knees and watched as it came to a stop— then quickly your eyes went wide and your lip curled in disgust. “God, this night just keeps getting fucking worse.”

“What a lucky man I am,” Stu sent you a devious smirk and stood as Tatum looked between the two of you quickly and huffed as she crossed her arms. He moved until he stood over you and offered a hand down towards you; sending Tatum a quick, apologetic look, you stood up on your own, ignoring the mans hand and starting to walk towards the small coat closet by the front door. You glanced back and saw Billy, a semi-annoyed look on his face as he followed a smirking Stu towards the closet behind you.

“Have fun.” Billy’s tone was dull, one you didn’t hear often. He seemed less than impressed at the situation, but you weren’t entirely sure why.

“Oh, we will—“

“We won’t—“ You and Stu spoke at the same time as he pulled you into the closet with him. Billy seemed to hesitate for a second before he shut the closet door.

“Time starts… now.” Billy called through the closed door and blocked the handle with the chair. Your gut wrenched as you shimmied as far away from Stu as possible. He was so close in the closet you swore that you could feel his body heat radiating towards you even as you pushed yourself back against the wall.

“You couldn’t have picked strip truth or dare, or something?” You grumbled in complaint at the man after a moment of silence. Stu gave a quick snicker and reached towards you for your shoulder.

“You’d rather everybody see your boobs than just me?” With a scoff, you slapped the mans hand away as his chilly fingers traced your collarbone.

“You are not going to be seeing my boobs tonight, Stu.” He gave a soft hum in response.

“Yeah, y’know what? You’re right. It’s way too dark to see anything in here.” It was dark in the closet but slowly your eyes were adjusting to Stu’s outline as he spoke.

“You know that isn’t what I meant.” You said, agitated with the man. Stu reached for you again, though this time this fingers graced your cheek before he firmly planted his palm against the side of your face. “And stop acting like you were ever going to see my boobs tonight anyways— go look at your girlfriends instead.” Stu hummed in a teasing tone, though it felt like it was only half paying attention to the words that you were saying.

“But yours look so much better in those tight shirts that you wear.” Your face heated up quick; there was something about him that never failed to anger you. His attitude, his cocky smile, his voice— but most importantly, how little he seemed to care about one of your best friends.

“You are such a fucking asshole— piece of shit— garbage— jerk!” Stu tilted his head to the side and slowly leaned in, quickly grabbing your hands when you reached up to plant them on his chest to keep him back. Stu held both your wrists tight in his hand, leaning in until his warm breath hit the skin beneath your lips.

“If I’m such a fucking asshole then why would I bring you in here to do this?” Curiosity bit at you when Stu didn’t immediately go to kiss you or say anything else.

“Do what…?” Stu gave a soft laugh— a mocking one that made your chest tighten— the smell of alcohol was lingering on his breath, but it wasn’t bothering you as much as not understanding what was going on. Stu was up to something, and for once you didn’t feel a menacing threat from him.

“Make him mad.” You were wracking your brain trying to understand what he meant, but he spoke up again as soon as the alarm went off in the other room. “Just go with it. Trust me— just this once.” He said in an encouraging voice. Soft footsteps started to head for the closet, giving you a feeling of relief before Stu was quick to shove his knee between your legs and forced his lips against yours.

You gasped into his mouth at the quick movements from the man, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth as he reached up and grasped for your neck; his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck and held you painstakingly close so that you couldn’t pull away from him. Your hands wiggled in his grasp as the door opened and the light nearly blinded you.

With an overdramatized ‘smack,’ Stu pulled away and looked out into the sitting room with a smirk on his face.

“Whoops. Guess we got caught.” Your face was hot, eyebrows furrowed inwards in annoyance and confusion. Stu let your wrists go, though he lingered for a moment on your neck and sent you a wink. You reached up, rubbing the spot that his thumb had been digging into your skin, wondering if his grip was enough to leave a mark. It had sure felt like he was holding you tight enough.

Stu went back to the sitting room and sat where he originally was, but you saw Tatum scoot away so that she wasn’t as close to him. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment before she reached for the bottle.

“I’ll go next.” You frowned, shoulders slumping as you walked back towards your spot and avoided eye contact with the group. Everybody had expected this exact scenario, but you didn’t want to meet anybody’s gaze. Especially not Stu’s.

“Are you okay?” Sidney asked quietly as she sat next to you. “Did he assault you in there or something?” You shook your head softly.

“He just… has really strong fingers.” Sidney raised an eyebrow at you and opened her mouth to speak, but you were quick to cut her off. “No! I mean…” You huffed and watched the bottle spin. “He was just holding onto my neck really hard.”

When the bottle finally stopped, Tatum immediately grimaced.

The boy that it landed on was possibly the drunkest in the circle, barely even able to stand up right let alone help her stand up. She nudged his hand away, sending Stu a quick glance with a huff before she stood. Stu seemed as if he was pretending not to see her desperate eyes as he reached for the timer from Sidney and stood up. Sidney scoffed as Stu led Tatum and the boy towards the small closet.

“He is such a… a…”

“Dickhead?” Sidney gave a soft chuckle and nodded.

“Remind me— why are we friends with them?”

“This is all because of Tatum— I didn’t even know who Stu was before she met him.” Sidney sighed and looked over as Stu headed back with the timer in hand. You saw that it hadn’t been started yet.

“Alright— who wants to play strip truth or dare while they’re in there?” He asked, eyeing you in a way that made your stomach churn. You sent the man a dirty look that made him laugh. “What? I thought that you said you wanted me to see your boobs.”

“I did not say that!” You seethed at the man.

“Ooh— that’s right, you said that you’d rather the whole room see them than just me.”

“I didn’t say that either!”

“I distinctly remember—“ Sidney cleared her throat loudly before the two of you could get into another one of your longwinded fights.

“Why don’t we just play normal truth or dare? Or never have I ever? Something that won’t end in a fight.”

“With him? Unlikely.” You grumbled.

“Well, I have a wonderful dare for you.” Stu grinned.

“I would never choose dare from you.” You scoffed.

“Really? Not even if I dared you to kiss me again?” Your cheeks went hot as you went to reply, nearly standing up to yell at the man before Sidney pressed you back and spoke.

“Never have I ever hosted a party and had nobody show up.” She intervened while you glared at Stu— a look that only Billy could rival. A girl across from Sidney sighed and grabbed her drink, taking a swift shot of it and wincing. Stu laughed as he looked at her, letting you be free from his antagonizing stare for even just a second.

The timer went off and Sidney was quick to get up to go save Tatum.

For the moment, things were quiet, Stu looked back, watching his girlfriend nearly stumble out of the closet with her shirt ruffled. You assumed that it must’ve been some form of revenge as she expectantly looked at Stu, but he didn’t seem like he cared at all.

“We’re playing never have I ever while other people are in the closet.” Sidney informed Tatum while she fixed her shirt. This time, Tatum moved between the two kids from your other classes rather than sit beside Stu. You expected that their fight might last about a week this time. “So… who’s spinning next?” The girl beside Tatum seemed like she was desperate to find any way out of a game that might end up with her drinking more, so she was quick to raise her hand and lean in to spin the bottle.

It spun for what felt like forever before it finally started to slow to a stop and landed dead on Sidney— earning a perverted chuckle from Stu as if he wanted to be in the room with them when this was happening. Sidney, however, sighed and rolled her eyes in his direction.

“Your perverted fantasies aren’t going to be coming true.” You swore that the other girl immediately sunk in relief at being in the closet with Sidney. The guys were drunk and she seemed like she trusted Sidney. Stu hopped up and headed with the girls towards the closet, leaving everybody in a bittersweet moment of silence before he came back. You missed Sidney’s presence next to you, holding you back from arguing with the man that was now seated across from you again.

You glanced around the circle, but your eyes met another’s quickly. Billy was looking at you, and when you met his gaze, he didn’t look away immediately, you sent him a quick, small smile before turning your gaze back to Stu as he spoke up.

“Never have I ever gotten so drunk that I’ve pissed on myself.” You were slightly surprised to see a decent number of people in the circle take a sip from their cup. You and Tatum met each others gaze with a mixture of equally disgusted looks on your face. “Never have I ever—“

“You don’t get to go twice,” you cut the man off quick, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach from the devious smirk he had on his face as he eyed you down. The look on his face could only bring bad things and you weren’t in the mood for it.

“Then you go.” You didn’t take the time to think before you spoke, dead-set on trying to embarrass the man like he had you; however, you forgot to take into consideration that Stu didn’t care about anybody in this circle outside of himself— including his girlfriend.

“Never have I ever had sex with two people in one night— within the past two years.” Stu took a shot from his drink proudly, something that noticeably hurt Tatum. You felt bad for a moment as she stood and started for the bathroom, but you barely had the time to look at her before he spoke again.

“Aren’t you going to take a shot?” He smirked at you. “Never have I ever sucked a dick in a dirty bathroom for some alcohol.” He shot at you, but before anybody in the circle had the chance to react, you fired back.

“Never have I ever cheated on my girlfriend— multiple times.”

“Never have I ever been so afraid to admit my feelings for someone that I hid in the bathroom an entire lunch period.”

“Never have I ever been so disgusting that I want to vomit when I look in the mirror.”

“Jokes on you, I don’t want to vomit.”

“Looking at you makes me want to make myself vomit.”

The front door clicking shut drew your attention away from the aggravating man. The room was empty aside from you, Stu and Billy now.

“Good going, you chased everybody off.” Stu teased you, knowing that it was going to press your final button.

“I swear to god, Stu—“ Before you could finish your sentence, the timer on his phone went off. He was quick to bounce up and start heading for the closet with a quick wink at you.

“You’ll have to swear to god some other time.”

It was clear as the women left the closet that nothing had happened. Sidney looked around the now almost empty room and frowned.

“Where did everybody go?”

“(y/n) chased everyone off with her off-putting personality.”

“Shut up, Stu!” Sidney sighed as the other girl started to sneak towards the door, wanting to escape the tension of the room. Stu sighed and shook his head as the door clicked shut once more.

“Well… I guess it’s time we end the party.” Sidney said, but Stu was quick to intervene.

“What? No, we can’t end the party. Billy hasn’t even gone yet.”

“Admit it, you just want to tongue Billy in the closet.” You shot at the man, but for the first time in maybe forever, you only received a frown from him.

“Billy, spin the bottle.” The other man looked as confused as you were as he reached for the bottle; if there was one thing the three of you silently agreed on as Stu sat down in the now much smaller circle, the man was relatively unstable and he was acting weirder than usual— something that nobody wanted to push wrong.

“Where is Tatum?” Sidney asked. “She didn’t try and drive home, did she?”

“I’ll go check on Tatum in a minute.” Stu said as he looked at Sidney. “Just sit down.”

“What the hell happened while I was in there?” Sidney asked quietly as she scooted closer to you. Taking a second to glance in her direction, you sighed.

“A lot.”

A devious chuckle left the man across from you that made the hairs on your arms stand up. You looked down at the bottle and saw it facing you perfectly.

“Come on, lovebirds.” Stu stood, heading towards the closet as if he was happier than anybody else in the room seemed to be— maybe even more excited than anybody had been all night long. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Billy. He stood, extending a hand in your direction and waiting patiently for your fingers to grasp onto his. You had barely seen the man tonight— after all, you could barely spend any time around him without making a fool out of yourself on a good day.

But you took his hand and let him help you; Sidney was quick to send you a smile and a thumbs up when you glanced backwards at her.

Billy walked into the closet first and as you were going to step inside, Stu nudged you and made you trip. Billy was quick to catch you by the waist as you yelped.

“Dammit, Stu!” You turned to yell at the man, only to have the door slammed in your face.

“Seven minutes!” Stu called out from the other side as he pushed the chair beneath the door handle and walked back to the once fully formed circle with Sidney. Stu set his phone down, the timer off and phone facing down.

“What has gotten into him lately?” You grumbled, shifting with Billy so that you weren’t fully pressed against him in the small closet. Now, you were in the same position that you were in when it was you and Stu in the closet. “He’s been more annoying than usual lately.”

“Seems like you had fun with him in here.” Billy responded dully. You gave a soft groan in discontent.

“No, we did not have fun.”

“Seemed like it when the door opened.”

“He was the one kissing me—”

“Besides, you said you wanted him to see your boobs?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Tatum probably won’t mind if you’re blowing her boyfriend anyways. I think she’s getting tired of him.”

“I am not blowing Stu!” You said, your upper lip curling in disgust— something that Billy wouldn’t see. “I can’t even believe that you’d think— ew! You don’t really believe I’d voluntarily put his dick in my mouth do you? He’s gross.”

“You looked pretty cozy in here.” You scoffed, going to speak, but suddenly Stu’s voice came to your mind. You hesitated for a moment before you spoke again.

“Are you upset about that?”

“Why should I be mad? If you wanna fuck him, it’s none of my business.”

“I don’t know. Why are you mad?” Billy hesitated for a moment before he scoffed, taking a small step closer to you.

“Did you ever think that maybe you can’t stand Stu so much because you’re like him?” He asked in an impatient tone.

“Uh— offensive.” You complained. “Why the fuck does Stu think that shoving his tongue into my mouth would piss you off anyways? Thats what he said.” You were slightly hopeful in the back of your mind. Maybe he likes me. Maybe he’s jealous. Maybe Stu was trying to help after all.

“He’s an idiot.” Was all that Billy said. You sighed and looked down; the only light that came into the room was illuminating your shoes. After what felt like forever, he finally spoke again. “Alright, maybe there’s something that I should tell you.” Billy sighed, his warm fingers gently nudging your chin up. He’d gotten closer than you thought he had, so close that you felt his breath on your face. Billy opened his mouth to speak again when all of the sudden the front door slammed shut— loudly.

“Tatum!” Sidney called out and hurried footsteps ran towards the door. It opened again and then shut, a clear indication that both of your friends were now gone. You swore you heard an engine start and felt your heart drop.

“No fucking way,” you groaned quietly. “There goes my ride.” Suddenly, the door opened and nearly blinded you with the light as Billy’s hand fell back to his side. Stu looked annoyed as he turned and walked away.

“Party’s over.” You left the closet, hurrying towards the front door and pulling it open quickly. You stepped outside, noticing the car that you had arrived here in was no longer sitting outside of the house.

“Oh, no, no, no…” You groaned, reaching up to push your hair back. “Fuck…” a cold hand was placed on your shoulder, quickly catching your attention; you met Stu’s gaze. He sent you a mischievous wink, one that didn’t match his previous demeanor.

“You can stay here overnight. My bed has room for two.”

“Stu—“

“I’ll take you home.” You looked behind the tall man, catching Billy’s gaze and hesitating.

“No, really— feel free to stay if you want. Both of you can. I have a spare bedroom, too.” Stu nudged Billy, quickly getting an elbow to the ribs in return.

“She’s got a cat.” Was all Billy said as he reached for the coatrack and grabbed his jacket. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” You sent a tentative glance towards Stu, who looked from Billy to you. He sent you a small smile, one that (for once in the years that you’d known him) seemed genuine.

“It’s only a few blocks,” you said, turning to Billy and following him out the door. He held his coat over his arm, reaching around you to shut the door behind you as Stu headed in the opposite direction. “I don’t mind walking myself. You can stay with Stu.”

“What kind of guy would I be if I let a pretty girl walk home alone in the middle of the night?” He said the words nonchalantly, but it made your face feel warm as you averted eye contact from the man and looked down. “It’s just a few blocks.” He repeated your words. You crossed your arms, rubbing them and starting to walk beside the man and towards the sidewalk. “Tonight was kind of a shit show, huh?” He said aloud, though almost to himself. Despite that, you responded anyways.

“Yeah— I, uh… I feel bad for Tatum. I hope she isn’t too mad at me…” Gently, a coat was placed over your shoulders as you rubbed your arms, eyes concentrated on the concrete beneath your feet. You glanced at the man, shocked at the gesture. It was rare that you were alone with Billy, but every time that you were things felt different. He seemed nicer, walked closer, talked more.

“I don’t think you need to worry too much about it. Like I said, she’s getting tired of him and I don’t think Stu is gonna keep her around much longer.” You frowned and met his gaze again. “What? Come on— do you think he wants to marry her?”

“I just think you’re being a little crude.”

“She isn’t here, who cares?”

“I care.” You stopped, appalled at the man who stopped a few feet ahead of you. “She’s my best friend and I don’t like the way that your best friend treats her.” Billy looked down and sighed.

“Alright, I’m sorry.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets as your clammy fingers grasped onto the coat he had lent you. “You’re right.” Things were quiet for a minute between the two of you before he looked around the dark area and sighed. “Come on, let’s just get you home.” He gestured for you to follow him, and so you did.

Regardless that you could have walked yourself and you had argued that fact, you were thankful for the man in this moment; the area wasn’t dangerous, but you weren’t completely sober and you were never out this late anymore.

“Thanks for taking me home, Billy.” You finally spoke. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s late anyways. People are getting killed out here.” You nodded gently, eyes trained to the ground and missing the way that he looked down at you. “Sorry Stu’s been such a dick tonight.” He added. “And, uh… what happened in the closet…” He hesitated, stopping his slow walk and shaking his head. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said in the closet. I know you don’t like him.”

“Why were you so mad then?” You asked, looking back at the man that sucked on his teeth and quickly averted eye contact when he met your gaze.

“Because I wanted to be the one in the closet kissing you and he knows that.” Things went silent as your fingers loosened around the death grip that you didn’t know you had on the jacket. It smelled strong, almost as if he was right in front of you despite still being a few feet away from you. “And Stu was just trying to piss me off to get me to say it.”

“I guess that worked, huh?” Things were quiet again as Billy sighed and looked away from you, out towards the tree line by the dead road. “Why didn’t you just… kiss me?”

“It’s not that easy— I can’t just walk up to you and kiss you. I didn’t think you wanted to kiss me anyways. Stu thought that getting us alone together in the closet would make it easier.” Taking a small step closer to the man, you bit down on the inside of your cheek.

“You could have just told me.” You spoke gently. “I would have, uh… I would have told you that I wanted to kiss you, too.” Billy hesitated for a moment before he finally looked at you again. You waited for a moment before you reached up, fingers pressing to his cheek. Your legs shook, your face was hot, and every inch of your body wanted to run away and never speak to the man again. But you forced yourself to stare at him and speak in a breathy tone. “Just kiss me, Billy.”

He nodded and leaned in, closing his eyes as he reached for your waist and pulled you in to press a kiss to your lips. You gave a shaky exhale as he left you with a soft ‘smack,’ but Billy was quick to lean back in for another kiss— one that you didn’t deny. You let go of the jacket with your other hand, reaching for his shoulder and gently grasping onto his shirt. His scent was invigorating— you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so close to the man— if you ever were.

It felt like, for a moment, you went braindead. The only thing that you could think of were the slightly chapped lips pressed snug against your own as Billy’s warm hands held onto your hips. You couldn’t think of anything in the moment— in fact, nothing mattered beside the man in front of you— not even the buzzing that started in your pocket.

After what felt like it could never be enough, you pulled back from the man with a soft exhale and met his gaze— and there was a look in his eyes you had never seen before. Taking the opportunity that you may never come across again, you swallowed hard and glance at his lips.

“Do you wanna come in tonight?” Billy gave a soft hum and nodded.

“I’d like that.” You reached down, fingers intertwining with his as you stepped backwards.

“Come on then. Let’s go.”

#slashers #scream 1996 #scream franchise #scream x reader #scream x reader fluff #scream x reader smut #scream billy loomis #billy loomis #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x female reader fluff #billy loomis x female reader smut #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x reader fluff #billy loomis x reader smut

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pucked-bunnie · 6 months ago

Text

shocks and surprises⎜e.pettersson

pairings: elias pettersson x reader ⎜ft platonic quinn x reader prompt: "just tell me what you want from me." genre: romance ⎜fluff warnings: unexpected pregnancy ⎜ stressed reader ⎜ supportive elias⎜descriptions of mild panic attacks ⎜ synopsis: you can't help but be proud when elias gets invited to all star weekend - a little surprise puts a small spanner in the works word count: 2.6k authors note: I already had this little Elias story planned but a prompt request I got fit in perfectly so i merged the two - it's short and sweet so I hope you all enjoy!

(unedited)

“Mother fucker.” The swear words slip out as you stare down at the plastic stick in your hand - the two bright red lines staring you in the face.

“Everything okay in there?” Elias’s voice carries through the closed bathroom door, the wood creaking as he leans his weight against it. “We have to get going if we’re going to make it to the airport in time.” He says softly, as you take a deep breath, staring down at the test one more time before throwing it into the bin next to you - standing to flush the toilet and wash your hands.

“Baby, are you sure you’re okay? You do look a little pale.” Elias asks as he lifts his hand to press against your forehead, frowning before he drops it back to his side. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m okay, Elias.” You reassure him, a small smile stretching on your face as you move past him to grab your bags from beside the bed. “Just have a bit of a tummy ache is all.” You explain, your boyfriend understanding your explanation with a tight nod, before grabbing his own suitcase off the floor, motioning for you to lead the way out of your apartment.

You don’t know why your first reaction is to pretend that nothing was wrong.

To pretend like those little red lines had never happened.

But this weekend was supposed to be about him.

Elias keeps his hand on your thigh the whole Uber ride to the airport, his fingers tapping gently against the fabric of your pants, the both of you looking out your respective windows, your brain spinning a hundred miles an hour as you glance over at your boyfriend.

You had met Elias through his teammate Quinn - you and Quinn had known each other for years, meeting back in high school and becoming fast friends. In his second year in the NHL Quinn had invited you to come watch one of his games, wanting to catch up when he found out you were moving to Vancouver for work - and it was in a small bar near his shared apartment you had met the quiet swede, Elias being Quinn’s roommate and deciding to join the two of you for dinner after their game.

Though your first few interactions left you confused about whether the stoic man actually enjoyed your company, it was the constant appearance of Elias whenever you were close by that helped you feel that maybe the tall hockey player did feel something towards you.

As your Uber pulled up to the airport, Elias thanked him as the driver rounded the car to help you pull your luggage from the trunk, wishing the two of you well on your flight before pulling away from the curb. Elias watched you as you tugged your suitcase behind you, your eyes trained on the ground in front of you and your hand tight on the handle of your bag as the two of you made your way to the private boarding lounge with his teammate already waiting.

He knew something was wrong from the moment you rushed to the bathroom after getting off the phone with your sister, your eyes wide and panicked as he followed after you. His concerns were confirmed when you slammed the door closed behind you, twisting the lock on the handle leaving him sitting at the end of your bed waiting for you to finish.

“You made it.” Quinn’s voice snaps Elias’s gaze off you, one side of his mouth tilting as he nods his head in greeting to his fellow teammates, clapping his hand against Quinn’s outstretched one.

“Only just.” Elias says jokingly, pulling away from his friend, watching as Quinn sweeps you up in a tight hug, the first genuine smile Elias had seen on your face all day, making his stomach flip like it always did when you smiled.

It was his favourite thing to look at.

“Looking as wonderful as always.” Quinn comments as he sets you back on the ground, his hands rubbing on your shoulder as he takes you in, despite seeing you less then two weeks ago. “Work must be keeping you busy, we haven’t seen you in ages.” He adds and you just nod, your mouth feeling dry.

“She’s not feeling too good today.” Elias says as he slides up besides you - his arm sliding around your waist as he tugs you against his side, his warmth forcing your body to relax a little bit. Quinn shoots you a sympathetic smile as he turns to grab his bags when your flight attendant comes to gather you all for the private flight.

“Let me take this.” Elias whispers as you reach for your suitcase, his hand grabbing hold of the handle first as he presses a gentle kiss against your cheek before moving forwards with both your suitcases in hand. Elias reaches out for you again as he hands your luggage off to the baggage workers standing besides the plane as you make your way onto the tarmac, his hand gripping your tightly as he leads you up the steps behind him, the two of you quickly finding a set of available seats before settling into the comfortable leather.

The group let out an excited yell as the flight attendant makes her rounds with glasses of champagne - each of them swiping a glass as they wait for the pilot to prepare for take off. “Ma’am would you like a glass?” The attendant as she reaches your seats, already placing the glass in front of you before you get a chance to answer.

You can feel your heart drop as you look at the sparkling glass in front of you.

Your stomach turns as you feel nausea rise in your throat.

Your breathing quickening as your eyes glaze over, watering just slightly as the heaviness in your belly.

You know you’re overreacting but the sight of the alcohol in front of you is a reminder of the secret you aren’t quite ready to share - a short panic quickly interrupted by the sound of your boyfriend talking.

“Would you mind switching this for a glass of apple juice?” Elias asks the attendant softly as she makes her way back down the aisle, his hand swiping the alcohol off the table in front of you as he hands it back to her. She nods quickly, taking the full glass down to the back of the plane swiftly, returning with a similar glass with a much less bubbly beverage. Elias nods his thanks to her as he places the glass back down in front of you without a word.

“You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?” Elias speaks so softly you can barely hear him over the chatter of his teammates and their families. His hand finds its normal place on your thigh, his finger rubbing softly, reassuringly against your leg as you nod your head, your words still stuck in your throat, as the pilot announces over the intercom that the flight is ready for take off.

Despite being a very quiet person, Elias has always been incredibly physical. He always needed some part of him to be touching some part of you to be content - his hand commonly finding purchase on your thigh or on the small of your back, but his favourite was when your two hands would clasp around one of his, squeezing tightly.

The flight from Vancouver to Toronto took around four and a half hours - most of the excitement had worn off after about an hour, everyone settling into their seats and the cabin lights dimming slightly as everyone relaxed.

Elias’s gaze is trained on you, your eyes closed, head leaning gently against his arm and both of your hands wrapped around his, his oversized hoodie thrown on to fight the cold of winter.

“She’s been quieter than usual.” Quinn comments, as he stops his walk down the aisle of the plane watching Elias watch you.

“Somethings wrong, but she isn’t ready to tell me yet.” Elias says to his captain, his free hand reaching over to move some loose hair out of your face, your nose wrinkling at the small tickle on the side of your face. “I’m just worried she’s holding it all in, it’s gotta come out eventually.” He adds, Quinn nodding at his teammates words.

“She’ll tell you, she probably just needs time.” Elias finally moves his gaze of you to glance over to his friends, a thankful expression on his face, as Quinn claps him on the shoulder before moving back towards his seat.

Elias doesn’t sleep the whole flight - one hand scrolling through his phone the other still trapped in between yours as the flight attendant announces that landing would begin shortly. Elias tucks his phone into his jumper pocket, before reaching his now empty hand to gently cup your face, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek.

“Baby? We’re about to land.” He whispers quietly, your eyebrows furrowing in a frown as you let out a soft groan. “You need to wake up, princess.” He says again, chuckling as one of your hands releases his to swat away his hand on your face.

“I’m awake.” You huff as you swat at his hand again, pulling your face out of his reach, letting go of his hand to rub at your eyes - the lights in the cabin turning back on as the plane makes its descent.

“Sleep well?” He questions softly, your head nodding as you pout. Elias’s face lights up with a fond smile as he adds, “You can sleep more at the hotel, the event doesn’t begin until tomorrow.”

As the plane hits the tarmac, you pick up your phone from your lap, turning off airplane mode - the screen lighting up with missed messages.

‘So…what did the test say?’ The message from your sister, puts a new frown on your face, tucking your phone quickly into the hoodies pocket before Elias can get a glimpse at the message.

‘It’s okay if it’s positive and it’s okay if it’s negative.’

‘Have you and Elias talked about this yet?’

‘You’re probably flying now, but call me if you need anything.’

The messages continue pinging from your phone, Elias raising a brow as he glances down at the device in your pocket. “Are you gonna answer those?” You just shake your head, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as your eyes start to water.

Not again.

Everything is blurred by the rushing of your minds, Elias’s hand in yours the only thing keeping your body moving as you try to focus on breathing slowly - the voices around you sounding muffled as Elias wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you against him tightly.

“We’re gonna go straight to the hotel, she's feeling pretty bad.” You hear your boyfriend explain to your friends as he grabs your luggage rushing you off the tarmac and into the first taxi that stops.

The ride to the hotel is silent, your hands clasped together, your gaze not leaving the floor - Elias watches your closely as he takes the lead, checking the two of you in quickly, guiding you up into the hotel room without a hitch, leaving the suitcases by the door as he follows you into your hotel room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Elias asks as he watches you wander around the room, your teeth nibbling on the side of your thumb, a nervous habit Elias hadn’t seen in a while.

“Huh?” You ask, your head snapping up and your arms dropping to your sides - your gaze flicking around the hotel room in confusion before focusing back on your boyfriend.

He looks tired - is all you can think as you take him in - a lump getting caught in your throat.

“I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” He explains, his hands reaching out for yours, pulling you to stand between his legs as he looks up at you. “What is going on?” He asks again, expecting the way you let out a choked sob.

He was expecting the way the tears slipped down your cheeks.

He was definitely expecting the way you try to stop crying almost immediately, feeling ashamed at showing your overwhelming emotions.

“It’s okay to be upset” He says softly, reaching up to gently swipe the tears off your face, “But I want to understand why you’re so upset.” Your tears fall harder at the soft expression on his face.

The words still seem impossible to get out.

“Baby, I need you to be super honest with me.” He starts when he realizes you aren’t managing to speak yet, your panic still in control. “Are you pregnant?”

Everything stops.

The tears, the gasping for air, the constant whirring in your head.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, confused as to how Elias had figured it out so quickly.

“I saw the test box in the garbage bin before we left - and you haven’t had your period in two months.” He explains, his hands smoothing up and down your arms as he speaks.

“How do you even know that?” Your voice is a whisper, a soft smile blooming on Elias’s face as you finally manage to speak.

“I have a tracker on my phone - I just wanna make sure I know when to make you comfortable.” He says gently.

He pauses for a moment, watching you suck in deep gulps of air before asking again, “are you pregnant?” He watches as your face crumples again, your head nodding your answer as he pulls you into his body, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he tries to soothe you.

“When were you going to tell me?” He asks, patient for your answer.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” You answer, your head tucked against his shoulder as you manage to calm down.

“Why would this ruin the weekend? Isn’t this good news?” Elias asks, his hand stroking the back of your head softly, as he rocks the two of your side to side.

“Is it?” You ask back, pulling your head away from his shoulder to glance down at him. “We’ve never even talked about something like this happening before, Elias.” He just nods, understanding your concerns as his hands move to stroke against your back.

“Is it something you want?” He asks, the question making you falter slightly.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” He affirms, smiling up at you. “We don’t have to know everything right now, but I don’t think this is a bad thing.” His words are gentle as per usual, the sassy man always had a sweet spot for you - always knowing what to say and when to say it.

“Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll give it to you.” He explains, “If you’re not ready then we can figure something out - I want whatever you want.” He continues, leaning forwards to press a kiss against your wet cheek, your head nodding furiously as you take in what he says.

“Okay.” You speak quietly, returning his growing grin.

“Okay.” He responds, his arms pulling you back to his chest in a crushing hug - the excitement radiating off him. “I hope it’s a girl.” He adds quietly, your heart racing as images of Elias with a little girl on his shoulders race through your mind, tears starting to well up in your eyes again.

“Pregnancy hormones really are no joke.” Elias chirps, his thumbs wiping at the fresh tears with a chuckle as you smack at his chest.

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl fic #elias pettersson #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson fanfic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfic

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txt-trash · 1 year ago

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former lover’s dance | choi yeonjun

summary: choi yeonjun is your average dance instructor in need of a place to stay. you’re a college student majoring in dance, there’s history between the two of you and when you find out you’ll be living together… the chemistry of dance seems to bring you back to each other.

➣ college. roommates. smut. exes.

➣ 10.5k words

warnings: smut. Yeonjun and oc are ex FWBs. roommates. Yeonjun is kinda cocky. oc does not acknowledge him that much. smut in the dance room. missionary. foreplay. unprotected intercourse. public sex. inspired by shoong! — Taeyang and LISA

As much as Yeonjun hates to admit this, he’s not at all surprised by the turn of events. Okay, scratch that, he’s very surprised actually—but not by the way you acted. You seemed to read each other’s minds when you decided to ignore each other and act like you had no idea who the other was. It made it easier for him to deal with this… surprise.

When he first ever saw an ad for a share house he thought it was exactly what he needed. He needed a space but he also didn’t want to pay the expensive price it would be to live alone and having roommates would at least lower the amount. He could survive with shared spaces as long as he had his privacy, right?

Wrong, very wrong, he doesn’t think he can mentally survive this unless he acts like you’re a complete stranger to him.

The problem is, Yeonjun is an asshole and he knows it. That’s why it’s very hard for him to hide his annoyed smirk when you introduced yourself, not bothering to even look at him, but it’s alright. He doesn’t care and if that’s the game you wanna play, he can play it a hundred times better.

“So what are you studying right now? You go to __ University right?” Beomgyu, one of the other housemates asked you. You were the last to arrive on move-in day but Yeonjun isn’t surprised, you’re late to literally everything. Now everyone’s throwing questions that you missed and you looked slightly bored trying to answer them all.

“Dance,” you said, “But I’m only a part-time student because I have a job too.”

“Oh! Yeonjun is a dancer too!” Mira pointed out, and you know she was only being nice and trying to form connections between housemates but it made you want to roll your eyes so fucking bad.

“Have you two ever met? The dancing community can’t be too big,” Beomgyu said looking between you two but you both shook your heads No and refused to speak more on it.

It wasn’t a mutual understanding of each other, it was a mutual disliking for each other.

You didn’t always completely hate Yeonjun but that was probably like two years ago and now everything the guy does just annoys you. The question is why, right?

Well… as embarrassing as this is to admit… the two of you hooked maybe once, twice [?], alright maybe three times before in the past. It was never anything serious, always late at night, usually drunk, a little too flirty, you know how it goes.

Anyway, you know that’s not a reason to dislike someone so you’ll explain what you can about the situation.

Personally, you need reassurance, validation, any sort of answer so that you don’t jump to conclusions and think something is going on when there’s nothing. Yeonjun isn’t like that, he expects you to know what he’s thinking and what he wants even if he doesn’t give you a single hint to what that could be.

That’s why when he came up to you at some party drunk off his ass accusing you of playing him, you had absolutely no idea what he was going on about!

Your hookups were sporadic and your texts few, so how were you supposed to know he wanted to pursue something when he never told you? Yeah alright, maybe you had feelings for him too but then time passed and you thought that was the end of your little rendezvous and moved on like a normal person would.

How were you supposed to know Yeonjun got a big head and expected you to initiate a real relationship with him when you didn’t even know that was something he wanted in the first place?

This is why you hate men.

But enough of that, that was two years ago and you’ve got a bigger problem on your hands:

You’re going to be living with him now.

The first couple of days it was easy for him to act like you didn’t exist. You were all still in the process of moving in and with his dance classes, he was a busy guy. Unlike you, he’s graduated already and on top of that he teaches dance at a local studio. He’s well known too, but he knows that it’s not just because of his dancing, it’s his looks too.

There’s a reason why so many of his dance classes are filled with girls asking if they can partner with him on choreography but he always says no. He has a certain dance style that doesn’t always match well with every dancer and not all can have that sort of chemistry he’s looking for in partners.

The last person he collabed with was… well, you.

He can say how much he dislikes you and he’ll mean it every single time, but he’ll never deny the fact that you’re a good dancer and when the two of you dance together it’s very hard to ignore the chemistry and tension there. Before anyone says anything, no it’s not just because you two were sleeping together at the time—hell, if anything that’s why you slept together.

Beyond the point though, the point is that he's done very well avoiding you and he hopes he can keep it up until the lease ends.

“Alright everyone get in position,” Yeonjun said as he rolled the short sleeves of his oversized t-shirt to his shoulders.

“Are you going to have a partner this time?” One of the dancers asked as they got in order for practice by the number they were given. Everyone was divided into smaller dance units based on skill and synchronization for him to further examine before they shoot their YouTube video.

“No,” Yeonjun answered as he played a song that they would be practicing, Shoong! by Taeyang and LISA. He’s going to teach them the basics today and next time he’ll go into more detail before dividing them all by either partner or trios.

He makes good money off of this, other than paying his dance studio fees, all the rest goes into his pockets and with his YouTube choreography videos and the fact that he currently teaches three classes, he clearly has the funds to live alone. He just thinks that’s boring.

A bird has told him that you also started teaching a class not far from him but he’s not interested in knowing more, he swears.

“Come on Junnie, I want a one on one,” one of the girls he taught stayed behind after class, “I really want to partner up for a video.”

“Sorry Jihyun, I don’t dance with my students,” Yeonjun said as he tried packing up, “Then it’s like I’m giving you favoritism.”

“Nobody has to know,” she said in a soft and feminine voice that had him smiling but not for the reason she hoped for.

“I don’t think so,” Yeonjun said as he closed his duffel bag, “Be careful going home, alright? It’s late.”

Yeonjun is not a changed man by any means, he still enjoys hook up culture but he’s completely barred off his dancers. He’s trying to be professional, he’s danced background for celebrities before and he’s hoping he could get those type of connections for the people he teaches. He doesn’t want to be one of those sleepy instructors who take advantage of all the pretty girls who dance for him.

And before anyone says anything, you did not dance for him. Sure, you’re a bit younger but still relatively close in age so when he met you it wasn’t like he was your dance teacher. You met attending another dance class and were partnered up for a song and things just clicked from there. It was never anything serious between you two so him sleeping with you is not the same as one of his girls coming onto him.

When he got home that night he was past exhaustion. He had a lenient schedule but after teaching his classes back to back, it was tiring. It was late already and he expected everyone to be in their room’s doing their own things but of course things never really go his way when you’re involved.

He rolled his eyes the second he saw you in the kitchen and went straight to his room. Yeonjun planned on staying there the entire night until his stomach growled and his snack stash was gone. With an annoyed huff, he left his room in hopes that you weren’t there but life sucks and there you stood.

Your nose scrunched in disgust but it wasn’t because of the fact that he clearly just got done with dance practice and reeked of sweat. He moved around you as he looked for something to eat in the dead silence that you two created on your own accord.

“Y/n, when did you get home?” Taehyun asked and your face lit up immediately. You’ve become school buddies ever since you found he was your junior—but only by a little. You went to school together and on the days you had class you agreed to go together.

“Just now, I got off work late,” you told him as he came over to see what you were making. It was a very sad excuse for ramen and Taehyun didn’t hide the look of sympathy he sent you when he saw it. He chose to turn to Yeonjun instead, “You just got here, too?”

“Yeah, I was teaching my class,” Yeonjun mumbled as he served himself a bowl of cereal.

“What song?” Taehyun asked. Unlike you and Yeonjun, Taehyun is interested in getting to know his housemates. He doesn’t have many friends aside from Kai so he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t try and get to know everyone better.

“Shoong!” Yeonjun said as he stuffed his mouth with Lucky Charms.

Taehyun smiled, “Are you doing a duet with someone?”

“Nope,” Yeonjun said as you turned the stove off and finished preparing your own late dinner, “Not everyone can comprehend what I want.”

Taehyun looked between you two, finding it hard not to notice that since everyone moved in, you’ve both been very closed off from each other. Call him nosy but that’s because he is.

“Maybe you just expect people to know what to do without actually telling them what it is,” you finally said and he is not at all surprised that the first thing you’ve said to him all week.

“Maybe people should just use common sense and context to know what I mean,” Yeonjun said and yes, he knows that at this point he’s just being petty but who cares. If that’s the first thing you want to say to him then he has absolutely no problem serving the dish right back to you.

“Common sense would be actually using words to tell someone what you want an—“

“Alright, alright,” Taehyun intervened with a nervous chuckle, “Um… I want to see the dance when it’s done but um, I think I’m gonna go to bed early.”

Neither of you reacted as you stared each other down, waiting for the other to look away first.

“So you’re done ignoring me now?” Yeonjun finally said and there was no way for you to ignore the sarcasm laced in his voice. It made you roll your eyes as you said, “Probably not.”

“You know you don’t have to act like you don’t know me,” he said and he knew he was being a hypocrite. He’s been doing the same thing, the only difference is that he’s called you out on it first.

You shrugged, acting indifferent, “You’re the one who said you didn’t care if I ever spoke to you again, like the drama queen you are.”

Yeonjun scoffed, no longer as hungry as earlier, “That’s because you started avoiding me.”

“How? Because I didn’t text you? You didn’t text me either, remember?”

“Actually, I did text you but you were too busy flirting with another guy at a party,” Yeonjun said, clearly annoyed now and ready to argue.

“We weren’t even dating,” you said with another shrug that made his blood boil at the thought being brushed off. With a scoff, he dumped his milk down the drain and stood next to you, “I didn’t think that mattered when you were in my bed the fucking night before.”

“First of all, who told you I was flirting with some guy?” You asked with furrowed brows clearly confused, “And why is it my fault when you never told me you wanted to get serious? I’m not a mind reader so stop blaming me—“

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m so sorry Y/n, nothing is ever your fault.”

He stormed off to his room and unbeknownst to you both, there was a very nosy housemate with his ear pressed against his bedroom door listening to the whole thing.

Okay, maybe you weren’t fully honest in the beginning. You know that you were equally to blame for why you and Yeonjun never worked out but you were also very different people when it came to expressing yourselves. He doesn’t feel the need to use words for assurance and you’re the opposite.

It’s a beige flag of yours, not green or red. You just don’t want to assume something without being told anything about it. Yeonjun never said anything so you never acted like you two were going to become anything more than what you already were. Still, it’s not fair for him to act like he was always very vocal about what you two had.

Plus, to make things clear, you and that guy Yeonjun said you were flirting with? Yeah, that’s just Beomgyu, your friend and he would know that too if he asked you instead of just listening to whatever a random person told him about you flirting that night. You just gave up on feeling like you should explain yourself to him when clearly he wasn’t listening to you at the time.

You just didn’t feel the need to explain yourself to a guy who clearly wouldn’t listen either way so in the end you let him think whatever he wanted to and dropped him.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Beomgyu asked you as you plopped down on the chair next to his. You were supposed to be meeting your friend in the library, not immediately being made fun of the second you sit down.

Choosing to ignore his obviously rude comment about your distress, you chose to say, “I just found out what my final is.”

Beomgyu gave you a dumb look waiting for you to elaborate. You rolled your eyes because sometimes your friend annoys you just by looking at him, “I have to make a dance for the summer seminar.”

“That’s easy though so why do you look so dumb?” Beomgyu asked and you leaned across the small coffee table filled with textbooks to smack him.

“It is easy but we have to do a collaboration for the dance and people must hate me in class because everyone partnered up and left me out,” you ranted to your friend who smacked his lips.

“They’re probably just intimidated because you’re so good,” he sent you a wink and although he’s trying to make you feel better all it did was make you think about those moms who tell their daughters that the reason every girl hates them is because they’re pretty and not because they’re a bad person.

You don’t think you’re a bad dancer by any means but you do think that you tend to close yourself off from everyone. It can come off cocky and arrogant when you prefer to stick to yourself and dance alone but you don’t mean it like that. You just don’t want to disappoint someone else so you tend to avoid doing anything as a group or duo. Clearly you bit yourself in the ass here.

“So what are you gonna do?” Beomgyu asked when his attempt at flattery fell on deaf ears.

“Well I asked if I could do a solo and the bitch said no because it had to be a collaboration but she did say if I find someone to dance with she’ll let me perform,” you explained to him, “And it can be someone who’s not a student but it would basically need to be recorded in some way so that it’s obvious I took part in creating the choreography.”

“You know who you can ask?” Beomgyu asked and part of you knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

“Yeonjun.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I haven’t danced with him in two years and we’re not on good term—“

“Yeah but you live together and he’s a choreographer too,” Beomgyu said, being the voice of reason that it pissed you off, “You two can hate each other all you want but when it comes to dancing you have a mutual understanding of what works and what doesn’t.”

“He won’t help me,” you tried to say but your best friend only rolled his eyes.

“Have you asked?”

With an annoyed smack of your lips you looked away from mumbling about how much you hated Beomgyu for possibly being a genius. You would need to ask your advisor if it would even work with Yeonjun and if she gives the okay then maybe you can try and ask?

You just don’t see him saying yes.

Yeonjun is annoyed, very very annoyed with himself to the point where he can’t even hide it. All of his students knew he was mad and they probably thought it was toward them but it really wasn’t.

It’s just that Yeonjun had a vision for this dance and it’s just not going the way he would like it to. He knows that it doesn’t have to be perfect but he wants it to be. He’s got a good YouTube following and out of all dances, if he fucks up this one then he knows there will be a lot of hate in the comments.

He can’t get Lisa’s part right no matter how hard he tries and he can’t expect the dancers to know how he wants it to be done if he doesn’t have someone to help him show them how to do it. He needs someone who knows how to appeal to their charms and move sensually and a bit hypnotizing to match the lyrics. He needs someone who he can dance with and be able to portray the exact story he’s trying to tell with this dance and it can’t just be anyone. If he chooses one of his random dancers and there’s a clear lack of chemistry then it’ll just look stiff.

He knows what kind of dancer he’s looking for but no way in hell is he gonna do anything about it. His only option is to be mad and postpone the dance until he can get it just right.

“So how’s the share house?” Soobin asked him as they went into a convenience store for some cheap snacks, “Wait, let me word it differently, how’s the share house with Y/n?”

“Fine,” Yeonjun said as he added a couple drinks into his basket, “We don’t talk.”

It’s true, aside from that time in the kitchen the two of you barely spoke. It probably had something to do with the fact that Kai is very obviously trying to probe you two into talking so his nosiness is cured but it was only making you shut off more.

Aside from his whole thing with you, he’s actually very content with his living arrangement. Kai is like a little brother that annoys him but he still likes hanging out with him at the house. Mira is a grad student in med school so she’s rarely home but she’s nice and quiet and always clean. You… sometimes you’re rarely home between work, school and avoiding him, he never has to worry about you so that’s a plus.

Of course sometimes it’s still awkward but that’s only because he’s seen what your body looks like completely undressed underneath him but he’s an adult, he can look past that.

Your little game of acting like you never met was short lived though since Taehyun was very quick to catch onto you two but he still doesn’t know why exactly you acted like strangers.

“Alright but how is not talking to Y/n working out for you?” Soobin asked and it made Yeonjun laugh.

It was two years ago, he moved on past that and Soobin knows this. The only reason why it’s being brought back up is because he hasn’t been this close to you in two years. Obviously he had to see you during that time because you’re technically in the same career path but he never had to actually interact with you. Living with you has completely changed that and he has to see you in the morning and night time so it does change things. He gets why Soobin is bringing you up but Yeonjun wishes he wouldn’t.

That’s why he’s laughing, it just seems ridiculous to suddenly make everything about you the second the two of you reconnected, “It’s just the same as it’s been the last two years.”

Soobin looked at him with narrowed and suspicious eyes but just sighed, “If you say so.”

Yeonjun was done talking about you as he carried his things to the checkout line.

When he got home that night he didn’t expect to see a somewhat familiar face in the kitchen.

The house was big, huge actually and it was normal for one of you to bring a guest over but Yeonjun hasn’t seen him since the last time he was at your place.

Beomgyu looked up at him with a jump as Yeonjun took his shoes off at the door. He waved a hesitant hand in his direction as he closed the fridge door holding your drink in his hand. Beomgyu cleared his throat, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Yeonjun said casually as he went over to the guy and greeted him like they were friends. In truth he has absolutely nothing against Beomgyu. They only met a couple times when he was hanging out with you and he thought he was a good guy. Of course when Yeonjun stopped talking to you he stopped seeing Beomgyu too but it wasn’t a loss of any sort. Beomgyu felt the same too because unlike you, he could see where you both made faults and despite being your friend it’s not like he had a reason to completely despise the guy. You can say all you want about Yeonjun but he knows that you don’t hate your old fling.

“Gyu!” You yelled with a huff as you got off your bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen, “Where the hell is my drink!?”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, “I’m not your errand boy if you wanted it to be quick you could’ve come yourself!”

When Yeonjun heard you he took it as his sign to leave but he still ended up meeting you at the stairs. You caught him by surprise when you spoke up as he attempted to walk past you.

“Did you just get home?”

It was so simple and yet he was so taken back by it that he nearly fell on his face when he tripped, “Me? Yeah, I went to the store.”

That was all you were going to ask him about and before he could ask you something in return, you were already leaving. He went to stop you but he didn’t know why, so instead he just left and acted like it didn’t happen.

Living with four people wasn’t as hard as you would think. Yeonjun wouldn’t even say he’s still annoyed to be living with you because you’re just his roommate and nothing else. You talk but it’s not about anything, only casual conversations in passing.

Taehyun always went to his room to bother him because they’ve become actual friends apart from housemates but he still can’t say the same about you. That’s why he was very surprised to see you at his door.

To make things more awkward, he’s just come out of the shower, and thinking you were Taehyun—he was just in his sweats. His hair was wet and dripping down on his shoulders and he was closing the door right in your face telling you to hold on.

You rolled your eyes at the shy way he acted despite quite literally being inside you but you couldn’t deny the blush that raised in your cheeks. Obviously this situation is very different though and you haven’t been in good words so you were fine with him slamming the door in your face to finish changing.

Yeonjun hurried to open the door back up, “What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” You asked, making him move to the side and let you through. You went in and immediately took a look at your surroundings. You’ve been in Yeonjun’s dorm before but this was very clearly different and that was a while ago anyway.

You pointed to his bed as if asking if you could sit and he nodded his head letting you go while he went to his desk and picked up his towel again. He had to finish drying off his hair and it would work as something he could fidget with while you talked.

He had absolutely no idea what you were going to say.

“I’m going to keep it straight with you,” you said, taking a nervous breath, “I need your help.”

“With?” Yeonjun asked with a confused expression. After being so petty toward each other you still weren’t shy to say you need his help? That’s what made him curious to know what you had to say.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “Well, uh, um…”

Sike, he thought, you’re definitely a little nervous to be asking him this right now and you still don’t know how to say it.

Yeonjun pretended to be annoyed, “Spit it out.”

“Ineedyoutodancewithme.”

“What?” Actually, he understood you clearly.

You rolled your eyes because you know he understood and he was still smirking in your face waiting for you to repeat it. Instead you said, “You're annoying.”

“You’ve called me worse,” Yeonjun with a shrug as he gave up on keeping distance and let himself fall back against his pillows and headboard, “Anyways, why do you need me to dance with you?”

You released an exaggerated sigh, “For the summer seminar, nobody wanted to collab with me—“

Your words were cut off as Yeonjun nearly spit on your face from failing to hold back his laughter. Without thinking you snatched a pillow and chucked at him—for a moment forgetting that the two of you didn’t get along anymore. He grabbed the pillow before it can hit him and set it down on his lap, “That’s because you’re a bitch to work with.”

“You know what? Fine, I rather fail this stupid final than beg you to dance with me,” you were clearly irritated but you couldn’t storm off like you so badly wanted to because he held your wrist to stop you.

He had a lazy smile on his face as he dragged you back to the bed and you would be lying if you said you’ve seen that look before. He chuckled, “Relax, I liked dancing with you.”

“So you’ll help?”

“Yes,” Yeonjun said as he let go of your wrist to sit up better, clearing his throat as he said, “And actually, this uh, this really benefits me right now.”

“How?” You asked him even though your insides were turning over from how happy you were. You can’t believe he actually said yes, and he’s perfect. Your professor will find credibility in him and she’ll see you create the dance with him through his video camera.

“I’ve been blanking so hard on the dance I wanted to do for a video, I’ve changed the choreo twice already,” Yeonjun said honestly, “I can’t get the girl’s part right and um, you know… I was thinking of asking you too.”

Ugh, you both nearly gagged because clearly time hasn’t changed the fact that when it comes to dance your minds think alike. Maybe that’s why you thought it would work in a sex life too.

“What song?”

“Is this a bad time?”

You both looked to the door looking like deer caught in headlights and Taehyun only stared at you two with amusement. Yeonjun wanted to chuck the kid out of his bedroom window for obviously seeing the two of you having a conversation and still choosing to interrupt. It’s not like Taehyun doesn’t know that you two haven’t spoken more than a few words since you moved in a couple months ago. Why did he have to come and ruin it aside from being a little shit?

“And I’m leaving,” you sighed dramatically knowing it would get a reaction out of Taehyun as you got up, “Guess we’ll have to do it next time.”

“Do what?” Taehyun asked as you shut the door with your leave, whipping his head back to Yeonjun his eyes went wide, “Do what? What were you guys gonna do? Oh my god, I thought you hated each ot—“

Taehyun slammed into the door in exaggeration as the pillow you once threaded Yeonjun with hit him right in the stomach.

Yeonjun won’t admit this to your face but boy is he happy that you’re dancing with him. It’s only been two days and already the choreography for Shoong! is coming out so well. The tripod was set up with his camera but he only recorded certain parts to save memory. He’ll send you the videos in the end and you’ll see how it comes out.

You both have spent the last two nights staying at the studio past midnight trying to perfect this for his video since that comes out sooner. You’ve pretty much figured it all out except Lisa’s part. You and Yeonjun were so used to working together that making a dance was so fast and easy because you understood the image you were trying to tell.

Once this is complete you’ll join him in a class or two to help teach the partner’s part in Lisa’s verse.

There’s only one downside to this arrangement and it isn’t bad or anything, but at the same time he thinks it is.

He’s never struggled dancing with another person especially as a back up dancer but like he’s said before, he’s not always as comfortable or intimate. That’s not a problem he’s having here considering he happens to know your body very well and how it moves against his. It’s bringing out some old feelings that he would prefer would just disappear.

You danced the beginning of Lisa’s part which was more of a so for you and Yeonjun danced further behind but not as the center. You were basically the one leading him for this part and there was no denying that tension was coming back. The way he looked at you as you pointed a crooked finger in his direction practically calling him over to you until your bodies pressed together to the choreography.

When it got to the part in Lisa’s verse where she sang:

‘You pull up in the lambo’ Yeonjun had managed to get behind you but not fully as he pressed your back into his side while doing a steering motion with right hand. His hand was down at your waist as he follow the best of the music and matched a swift circle of your waists together that matched the motion of your pretend steering as you practically grinded against him when he bent his knees to match you.

Right when that line ended you dropped down to your knees swiftly as you raised your hips back up following the hand he had grazing your side as if he was raising them off the ground himself.

You finished off the rest of her part on the floor until the male’s part started again and Yeonjun raised you off the floor by pulling on your hand until your bodies pressed against each other again before finishing off a synchronized dance.

When the soft voice of Taeyang sang the repeating shoong! lines, your hips met again and Yeonjun trailed a finger down the length of your arm sensually before bending you back to rest your head on his chest and end with an intimate sway of your hips together before the beat picked up for the outro.

By the end of the one on one practice you both were out of breath and you would be lying if you said it was just the dancing that caused it.

This is what he was worried about. In the back of his head he knew he wouldn’t be able to dance with you again without wanting to do all the things you did in the past. There was just no way he could feel the way your body fit perfectly with his without being reminded of what it was like to feel it closer. He knew you felt the same too because you couldn’t stop looking at him with those eyes that got him every damn time.

You cleared your throat, “One more time.”

That was all he needed to hear before playing the song from the beginning once again.

By the end of that night the two of you were too pumped up to go to bed. Usually after a night of practice you both were too tired to do anything but wash up and go to bed, tonight was not one of those nights apparently.

“Fuck I can’t get the song out of my head,” Yeonjun laughed quietly as he let himself fall into the couch in the living room. You both went home together for obvious reasons and it was so late that you were completely alone downstairs. Mira was most likely at her boyfriend’s place and Kai was probably playing his game so damn loud he couldn’t even hear his own yelling voice.

You still shushed him as you sat next to him, “Shh.”

“I can’t help it,” he whined like he was drunk and it was very amusing. He feels like he’s drunk, he hasn’t felt this comfortable dancing with someone in a while and it’s you of all people.

He really does have the song stuck in his head and was all because of the way you danced to it. He can’t stop thinking about the glide of his hand down your hips again. A feeling he’s all too familiar with.

“Wanna order pizza?” Yeonjun asked suddenly but you didn’t even act taken back.

“It’s midnight,” you whispered to him and he just smirked. You looked at his pretty face, “It’s not healthy to eat so late.”

He leaned toward you and mimicked your whisper, “When has that ever stopped anyone from ordering pizza?”

“Okay fine, order it, but I wanna shower while we wait for it to get here. Hurry up though or I’ll go to bed,” you said and he only grinned wider.

“Yes ma’am, I’m right on it,” he teased as he went on his phone knowing you most likely rolled your eyes at him. You’re being bossy with him again and he knows that it’s because you’re comfortable telling him something. It’s like a form of love language with you, you treated Beomgyu the same and you used to treat Yeonjun like that again.

Fuck, why is he overthinking it?

He shouldn’t like you like that again.

Things were going too fast again. This is what happened last time and there was no way you can say it’s not happening again. It’s because you started dancing with him again, that’s why he’s been all you could think and you just know he’s feeling the same.

You’ve spent an entire week perfecting the dance and each night the touches linger a little longer than before. You have also been seeing him around the house a little more and this time he’s not shying away from hanging out in your room on your bed talking about choreography—it’s not your fault if the subject would change throughout the night.

You just forgot how easy it was to talk with Yeonjun. He was a little sarcastic and mean but so were you and you hated that he could actually make you laugh.

“Alright everyone, this is Y/n, she’s helped me with the choreography and we’re about to show you the full dance right now,” Yeonjun said with a cocky grin as he pulled you into his side with his hand on your waist. You were trying to put space between you but he wasn’t letting that happen and he only smiled teasingly when you whined.

‘Is that his girlfriend?’

‘I thought he didn’t like dancing with partners.’

‘They seem so close, look at his smile.’

When the music began to play it was like you two were in your own world together. Yeonjun didn’t hesitate letting his hands touch your body when needed or get as close to you as the choreography intended. It was very obvious to everyone who watched that he was close to you in some way to have this much chemistry when you danced.

Also, the way he looked at you when the two of you were face to face was with a jaded breath that made him smile when you did the next move. By the end of the dance an eruption of cheers filled the dance rooms as you smiled cheerfully at him for completing it.

To be honest, Yeonjun wasn’t listening to what was happening around him. Instead he was more focused on keeping you close to him as everyone talked around him with music blaring loud enough to create a buzz. His attention was more on not letting you slip away as he found himself saying, “One kiss?”

Your eyes bulged in surprise as a hand of yours came up to his chest trying to push back gently even with his arms snug around your waist. You looked around the room, “Not with everyone here.”

He smirked as he looked down at you with a dazed look, “That’s not a no.”

This is what happens between you two. Despite arguing and avoiding each other, any time the opportunity comes you just can’t seem to help from wanting to touch again. Yeonjun was feeling extra bold right now because he always enjoys how good your body feels against his when you dance. It makes him want to relive whatever you had two years ago. When he called for a short break before they went back to practicing he didn’t know it was because he really wanted you to himself right now.

He licked his lips, “Just one kiss, Y/n.”

“Why do you want a kiss so bad?” You asked jokingly as you looked at him curiously. You arched a brow as he shrugged his shoulders, still moving you along his body acting like he doesn’t have a class full of dancers to teach at the moment.

“I like kissing—“ Yeonjun’s words immediately died down when he felt your soft lips press a light kiss on his neck as you stood on your tiptoes to reach up. He was taken off guard at the first feel of your tongue licking along his neck before closing your mouth in a kiss and his hold on you tightened. Just as he was getting ready to tilt your chin up and connect your lips with his, you pulled back, already trying to get away from him.

Yeonjun wrapped a hand around your wrist keeping you from moving across the room to the speaker, “That’s it?”

“Breaks over,” You tilted your head to the side giving him a look he understood and let you go. He gets it, it’s sudden and the way the two of you had acted wasn’t just something that can be forgotten through a dance. He just can’t help that these last moments where he’s been with you for practice, at home, and now are making him want you all over again.

He watched you go as he ran his fingers through his hair was an exasperated sigh, “Alright! Who’s ready to start practice?”

His eyes couldn’t drift away from you as you stood a few feet away from him and he’s positive everyone can note how he had his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He wasn’t even hiding the fact that he was falling for you again.

At the end of practice he was feeling exhausted and a bit worked up. The amount of times he got to feel you tonight under the guise of dance practice was enough to make his numbers feel numb and one again he found himself going to you. You knelt down by your dance bag in front of the large mirrors and he came up next to you making you look up.

“I know what you’re thinking, Junnie,” the nickname slid off your lips as you packed your things, “And it’s not a good idea.”

“One kiss won’t change anything,” Yeonjun persisted as he leaned against the mirrored wall. You looked at him with an arched brow and he knew you caught his bluff and it made him smile more, “I swear.”

“That’s what we said last time and then what happened?” You asked standing up in front of him, “Someone made assumptions and then flipped out on me.”

He rolled his eyes at the reminder, “And how long ago was that?”

“Pretty sure a few weeks ago you were mad about it,” you teased even as you traced a finger down his chest, “So do you think it’s a good idea to do it again?”

“I do,” Yeonjun said, letting his hand go down to your hip, “And I know you want to kiss me too.”

You sighed in thought as you looked up at him and he didn’t tear his gaze away. All it took was the warmth of your hand finding his jaw for him to dip his head down and let your lips brush against each other gently. When you didn’t immediately pull away, he took action and fully pressed his mouth to yours in a soft kiss.

Yeonjun didn’t hesitate to let both hands slide down your hips toward your back and pulled you more flush against him leaving no room between your wanton bodies as your tongue slipped past his lips meeting his softly. Your arms wrapped around his neck trying to pull yourself up to kiss him better and he eagerly granted you more access. It was a sight to be seen, the way his jaw moved so effortlessly, tongue kissing you.

There was a small pause, pulling away to catch your breaths and this should have been a moment to reflect. You both knew what this could possibly mean for you two. It was like starting all over from when you first started hooking up and how easy it was for you to go together. The problem is that you two aren’t good at communicating when it didn’t have to do with sex. The thing is, the two of you are making out in the dance practice room where there were no windows or cameras and the only thing you can see is your reflections in the mirrored walls.

“We’ve never done it in a practice room,” Yeonjun said clearly reading your mind and it made you whine into his chest.

“Yeonjun…” you want to do this with him again but you live together now. That brings a whole different set of problems for you and the people you’re living with if you start messing around again. Yeonjun knew this too but frankly, he didn’t care. He wanted you.

Despite your clear hesitation, it didn’t stop you from bringing him back into a kiss as your back pressed into the wall of mirrors with him in front of you. He smiled into the kiss as he deepened it, dipping his head low and trapping you between his arms. He kissed down your neck, sucking softly on a spot he was very familiar with and knew it would have your body writhing against him. Your hands tugged on his shirt rushing him but he was not complaining. You both were eager to get your hands on each other after so long.

He yanked it off feeling your hands fly to his belt loop but he stopped you again. He was slightly out of breath as he spoke, "Y/n..."

You looked at him waiting to see what he had to say but I stead he traced his hands down your sides as he dropped down to his knees making your lips part in surprise. He was quick in yanking down your tiny shorts and kissing whatever part of your body that was exposed to his needy gaze. He pulled your underwear down too and didn’t hide the way he licked his lips at the sight before him.

Yeonjun wasn’t moving and it was making you feel a bit shy so you found yourself with your hand in his hair and pulling it. He looked up at you with lust blown eyes and his pretty lips parted in a gasp at the pull making you look away from his strong gaze, “Are you just going to keep staring?”

A smile appeared on his face as his soft hands pinched your hips dragging your lower half closer, he motioned for you to spread your legs further and as you did that he leaned even lower, eyes focused on your wet pussy now that he can see it better, “This isn’t just from right now is it?”

As he said that he let one of his hands slide over your pelvis and a finger dip between your folds watching the silky strings of arousal coat it. You huffed in annoyance, “It’s your fault for being so fucking touchy this entire practice.”

With a soft hum, he said, “Let me take the blame then.”

His mouth closed over the stiffened clit so suddenly that it drew a gasp from your lips and your head to tip back against the mirror. Yeonjun is never the one to take things slow, usually liking the element of surprise in catching you off guard by his forward movements. Your hands tugged on his hair with every languid move of his tongue over your wet folds, quite literally lapping up your slick like he was thirsty for more and you had no doubt in your mind that’s exactly what this was. It’s been two years and yet you’re still his favorite pussy to eat and he just can’t get enough.He was lost in his own world, hips rutting into nothing as his tongue worked to taste your raw essence and flick at your clue just the way he knew you liked. He knew how to read your body better than anyone else and it should be a crime that the two of you were too annoyed with each other to do this when you moved in together.

His thick tongue never once slowed down its flicking between your folds and not long after he was pushing it into your warm hole. He was quite literally tongue fucking you with his eyes on you the entire time trying to fish out the perfect reactions. With an annoyed roll of his eyes he reached up with a hand to pinch at your shirt signaling for you to take it off and you did just that. You skipped it off letting it fall over your bag and took the initiative to remove your bra too and it had him fucking you with his tongue with more vigor.

You were in euphoria with moans tumbling out of your soft lips and his mouth slobbering all over your cunt made you want to fuck back into his face. He swirled over your sensitive bud lathering it in his own drool as he brought a hand up your body to feel up your breasts making you moan a little louder than intended. It only made the hand on your tits rougher as your hips began to meet the wave of his head with each thrust of his tongue into your pussy.

"Yeonjun—" you moaned softly, hands in his soft hair keeping him in place.

He licked his lips as he pulled back, “You gotta keep it down, baby, you don’t want someone walking in on us, do you?”

“Let them,” You rolled your eyes, and placed a hand over his head and led him back down to your pussy. Too distracted by the thought of making you cum on his tongue and your eagerness for the same, he did just that. He focused on your clit, tongue flattening over it and shaking his head from side to side feeling your walls tighten, repeating the action over and over again. He felt it too, he knew your body’s responses and he knew you were close. All it took was a little suck on your pretty clit for your release to hit you. It didn’t slow down his ministrations as he continued to lick up your climax despite your legs shaking and your hand searching for something to hold onto as you moaned wantonly. Your slick began to drip down his chin but he didn’t stop until there was nothing left to drink, breathing heavy as he swallowed everything you gave him.

When you had enough you yanked his head back by the hair and looked at his fucked out expression just from eating you out.

With weak legs you slowly made yourself to the floor and Yeonjun made room for you only to direct you to lay down. You smacked your lips in annoyance, “Why am I the only one naked?”

“Because you haven’t taken this off me,” he said with a teasing smile and you sat up to pull his shirt off.

You made his breath hitch you quickly yanked on his pants nearly making him stumble into as you lowered them down. His muscles tended at your toughness and helped you kick them off before releasing a soft whine as he tried leaning down to kiss you again. You met him halfway, a messy tongue kiss mixed with the taste of your arousal and spit. With him distracted by your makeout you slowly began pushing him back until he got the hint and laid down on the cold dance floor with you over him.

His eyes fell shut feeling your lips kiss down the expanse of his neck to his pretty collarbone and down his chest. Your hand was quicker than your lips at trailing down his body and soon he felt it slide over his hardening member with a couple experimental strokes, his mouth drawn open in a silent moan. He released a shaky breath as your face closer to his tip, licking it gently, teasing him. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his cock, licking along his base to his tip stopping at his head to let a pool of spit spill past your lips and onto his dick. Without further thought, you swallowed more of his length past your lips and watched his eyes scrunch closed in pleasure.

“So good,” he said licking his plump lips and bit down hard to fight back a loud groan when you held him at his base and began to bob your head along his length with a good pace. You had your other hand on his thigh, nails digging in just slightly because it made his cock twitch every time and you jerked off what didn’t fit in your mouth.

Yeonjun watched the way his cock disappeared into your mouth with a slack jaw as if he still can’t believe you make him feel this good every time you go down on him. It was embarrassing how quick you always brought him to orgasm.

You took steady breaths through your nose doing your best to relax your throat and flatten your tongue. His head fell back with a pleasured sigh when he felt you begin to take heavier breaths sliding down his length until his tip hit the back of your throat. You roughly swallow around him, suppressing a gag as you resume to deep throat him, spit bubbles gathering around his length.

"Oh fuck," he groaned, moans were pouring out of his mouth, no longer caring if anyone in another room heard, “I’m close. Get on top.”

It took you a minute to move off and every second you stayed sucking his cock was another annoyed moment that passed him trying to get you off. With a pop of your mouth, you quickly pulled off trying to catch you breath as he sat up and brought his mouth to yours, “Ride me, you know I love it when you’re on top.”

You were well aware that there was no chance he had a condom on him but this wasn’t the first time you have had unprotected sex and honestly, it probably won’t be the last. That’s the only reason why you didn’t hesitate to lead him back to lay down as you straddle his hips, eyes on his stiff cock that pointed up.

Yeonjun’s hands lightly trailed your sides, licking his lips as he stared down at where your drenched pussy hovered over his dick and he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. With a hand on his base to keep himself pointed up, he watched as you lined yourself up with him and took his head in. He quickly looked at you as your mouth drew open, sinking down on his length, your body not a stranger to his size, relaxed around him.

"Yeonjun," you whined at the first expert roll of his hips, digging his cock a little further into your walls once he knew you were ready and very needy to feel him. He didn’t start off slow either, he guided your hips to ride him roughly the way he knew you both liked and when you nearly fell forward only using your hands to hold yourself up, he met you halfway and went straight for your breasts. He nipped at the bud playing with it as he looked up at you to the best of his ability.

Yeonjun couldn’t help it, you were in a room full of mirrors and he just couldn’t help it. He found his eyes straying toward the closest mirror and they rolled at the sight. Your back was arched like a kittens, his hands groping handfuls of your ass and mouth hungrily sucking on your nipples knowing how much you liked it. Your hair fell around him and you just looked so pretty that he knew he wouldn’t last.

“Ugh,” you groaned when the pace had slowed by him being distracted staring at your reflection and with a light shove off him he let go only to let you sit up again. You looked over at the mirror as you sat up in a right angle and adjusting your legs to help you better, you raised your hips fully before dropping back down onto his length with a little grind.

“Fuck,” he growled, hand moving off your ass and slapping it just so he could watch the way it jiggled when you rode him, "Just like that, look at this slutty body. Fuck, I love it.”

“Did you miss it?” You asked with arrogance at the lustful, hungry gaze he looked at you with and as if to push him more for an answer you leaned forward, breasts in his face and never stopping your bouncing hips. He nodded almost submissively before his brows knitted together in concentration and fucked you back, hard.

Before you could react, Yeonjun was flipping you onto your back hitting the dance floor and taking the lead to stuff you full of cock. You sighed as you wrapped your hands around his neck stopping him from being to move back as he fucked you, “I’m close.”

“Already?” He teased, “Damn, you must’ve missed me too.”

“Shut up,” you moaned against his lips, dragging him into a kiss. Yeonjun was a slim guy yet out of everyone you’ve been with he’s the one who knows how to make you cum and he’s cocky about it too.

“No,” He practically giggled, “My dick making your little pussy feel good?”

His eyes locked on yours as he felt your warm walls begin to tighten around him. A familiar ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds. He wasn't going to last much longer either, “Your pussy is so damn good, every time, I can never get enough.”

His thrusted slower but still rough, chasing his own high with the sponginess of your spent walls that hugged his stiff dick deliciously, enough to make his lips dry. You didn’t have to give him a warning when he knew his words were getting to you and he finally forced you to look away from the mirror and up at him, “Cum.”

A wave seemed to wash over you, his final words to put you over the edge and just like that, you were letting go pulling him into a kiss to swallow your loud moan.

Yeonjun would have liked to help you through your orgasm but it had been so long since he last had you and still hard from your mouth on his cock, he needed to cut now. He pulled out quickly and not finding where to release he came straight on your stomach in thick, warm spurts with heavy pants. He looked down at the mess he made and smiled despite the way you smacked your lips in annoyance, “Seriously?”

“Would you rather it have been inside you?” Yeonjun asked as he sat back to look at the mess he made of you, licking his lips. A smirk came to his face at the sudden idea, “Don’t worry I’ll clean you up.”

“Yeonju—“ you hissed at the sudden feeling of his tongue licking his own release off your stomach and he didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

“What? It’s mine,” Yeonjun said as he kissed along your body before moving down between your legs to clean up your release too, “All of this is mine, you too.”

“Since when?” You asked as you relaxed. You were teasing him and he just smiled, “Since you decided to dance with me again. And no more misunderstandings, I want you to be mine Y/n, just mine. So let’s work on us this time.”

Things between you two were still kept private. There wasn’t any specific reason for it because some of your friends knew but you two still weren’t completely out with it. You were testing it out first and with your focus being on the summer dance exhibition you had, there was no push to continue to prove you were together now. Yeonjun was the perfect partner and after the exhibition the two of you were finally able to relax.

Taehyun was the one who asked the four of you housemates to go out. Mira was finally done with her intense dead week of exams and she has about two weeks off before her summer courses so it was the perfect time for you to all go out. Living with Yeonjun and dating him has been a bittersweet experience, bitter in the beginning when you were mad at each other, and sweet now where he spends most nights in your room or you in his.

Right now Yeonjun feels content with his relationship with you and as he watched you dance with Mira out on the dance floor all he can think about is how perfect you are for him. He had a feeling that dancing with you would bring the two of you together again and he would be lying if he said that it’s not what he had hoped for in the back of his mind when you agreed to dance Shoong! with him. He smirked at the reminder of the way your body dances with his and he’s wondering if tonight he could ask for a private show again in the practice room. You’ve sworn off public sex but he knows you too well to think you’re serious about it.

“I hate couples,” Taehyun rolled his eyes as he watched Yeonjun’s loving smile watching you dance. Feeling his eyes on him, you pulled away from Mira and motioned with your hand that the two of you would be going to the bar for more drinks. With a nod of his head he watched the two of you leave while he stayed back with Taehyun.

“Hey.”

A deep voice came up next to you as you and Mira got to the bar and at first you didn’t realize he was talking to you until you felt a hand on your lower back that immediately startled you. You turned to look at who it was when he spoke up, “I’ve been watching you dance all night an—“

“Why are you touching me?” You asked loud enough for Mira to hear and moved his hand off. The stranger still smiled, “Sorry, I just wanted to get your attention. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I hope so.”

You turned watching Yeonjun walk over to you and without sparing a glance, his arms wrapped around your waist, “She’s taken.”

Nobody but Taehyun saw the way Mira’s jaw dropped at the declaration and she turned to him immediately, “Since when?”

Taehyun threw his arm over her shoulders, “You’ve missed a lot, Mira.”

“Are they dating? How did I not know?” Mira asked him but she knew why. She spent all her free time with her boyfriend Kai or getting home late that she didn’t see when Yeonjun would sneak into your room or you in his. As far as she knew the two of you didn’t like each other so when did it change to this?

You didn’t say anything in response as Yeonjun hugged you from behind, all you did was turn his jaw toward you and without pulling his gaze away from the guy, he let you kiss him on the lips.

You were finally Yeonjun’s little dancer again and if another guy thinks he’s gonna change that then he has to laugh. He’s not going to get jealous and misunderstand you two again. You made it official and yes, he might get jealous but this time it’s because you’re his and not because he’s too scared to ask if you are.

::.

okay YALL this is a REUPLOAD. I’m not a dancer so bare with me 😭

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