#pls have someone corrupt her

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

part two here

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[redstarwriting]

shit happens

spider squad x platonic!reader

request?: yes

request: “Okokok, first of all CLASH WAS SOOOO GOOD OMGGI come bearing a request only if u want to. Teen!spider!reader who is Miguel’s favorite because they don’t cause him trouble. But it’s only because they get severely anxious when they break rules (I’m not projecting, you are). So he assigns them to go on a mission with the problem children hoping they’ll rub off on them, but the problem children just corrupt them. I just need more spider children being chaotic together and tired spiderdad MiguelMwah mwah love ur writing )pls only write this if u feel like it)”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2k

genre: platonic

Warnings: language, anxiety, Miguel being unrealistic with his expectations, electrocution, spider squad gettin thrown around

A/N: omg wait no bc same HAHA as someone with diagnosed severe generalized anxiety i get so anxious to break the rules even though my spirit always tells me to lol, i hope you enjoyed this anon! thank you for the request :)

───────────────────────────────────

You were the golden child. There were quite a few teens in Spider Society, but you were by far Miguel’s favorite. And that’s all because you did what he said. Now did that mean you never questioned his authority? Of course not, you questioned him all the time. But you were too nervous to go against him. You were too nervous to go against anyone. It’s proven a problem in your job since the police are not your biggest fans, but luckily you befriended a nice police captain who eases your fears every now and again. Your weekly visits with Spider-Therapist have been helping with the problem, too. Which is great for you. But you still did what Miguel said. Mans could be scary.

And that’s how you ended up here. With Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Miles Morales, and Pavitr Prabhakar. There was an anomaly that needed taken down in Hobie’s world, and Miguel stuck you with the four of them. To say you were nervous was an understatement. “Right, so anyone got a plan?” Hobie asks, in his thick accent. “What? What do you mean, dude, we’re in your world,” Miles says, and Hobie shrugs. “So? Not my villain, dunno ‘ow to stop ‘im.”

“Okay, well we know that he’s an electro variant, so… what can we do with that?” Gwen asks, and Pav sighs. “Be electrocuted,” he says sadly. “Miles can handle that,” Gwen says, and Miles snaps his head toward her. “Miles cannot handle that! Why are we saying Miles can be electrocuted?!” Miles yells, and the other three shush him. “’ow ‘bout you, mate, any ideas?” Hobie asks you, and you shrug. You look around before pointing up to the water towers on the roofs of the multiple buildings in New London. “Water,” you suggest, and they all look where you’re pointing. “Smart,” Gwen says with a nod. “How do we get the water to him, though?” Pav asks, looking at you again. You frown. “I… actually didn’t think that far.”

“Well, ‘at’s, easy. We just bust ‘em. Get ‘im to fly near one and,” Hobie makes an explosion noise and uses his hands to imitate an explosion. “What? But what about all the people who will lose water?” you ask, and Miles cocks his head to the side. “It’ll get fixed fast, probably. It’s our job to fuck shit up and then have other people fix it cause if we don’t fuck shit up, shit gets fucked anyways,” he says, and you sigh. “But Miguel said to try and not cause too much of an issue—”

“Oi. Who gives a flyin’ fuck what ‘e said. Not me. And this is my bloody world, I’ll cause as much damage as I want to,” Hobie says, and you look down. “Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta apologize for nothin’, mate,” Hobie says, and you mumble another ‘sorry.’ “You know what? I think Electro can wait a minute,” Hobie says, turning towards you, “More important matters to figure out ‘ere.”

“Like what?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Why are you so nervous?” he asks, and you gulp. “I-I’m not, I just—”

“You definitely are,” Gwen says, and Miles throws in a ‘yup!’ with a nod. “Is it us?” Pav asks, a hint of sadness in his voice. “W-What? No, that’s not it,” you say, waving your hands in a frantic way to say no. “I just am nervous in general. It really isn’t that big of a deal, guys, we should be focusing on—”

“Nope. You’re not gettin’ outta this, you been in ya ‘ead this ‘ole time.”

“I’m always in my head, it really isn’t that big of a deal—”

“Is ‘at why you try to avoid everyone? Don’t talk to no one?” Hobie asks, and you gulp. “I-I talk to some people…” you mumble, and a small frown forms on Gwen’s face. “The therapist in Spider Society doesn’t count,” she says, and you look down. “Well, why not…? He’s a person...”

“Because he’s like 40, and you’re our age,” Pav says, “you’d get along better with us, bro.”

“Miguel said that if anyone could make us not as ‘moronic’ it would be you, but I feel like he just kinda takes advantage of you instead of recognizing the pressure he puts on you. I have some experience with that,,” Miles says, and you sigh. “He scares me, okay? If I break the rules then I might simply pass away from him yelling at me,” you say, and Hobie shakes his head. “Love, the rules are all bollocks. Made by people who just wanna control your life.” Gwen nods. “Miguel is cool, sure, but if anyone can get away with anything… it’s you,” she says, and Miles chimes in. “And if you’re really that scared, remember he literally chased me around his world and destroyed a train because of me. You’ll never piss him off to that point.” You stay silent, playing with your fingers. Pav reaches out and grabs your hands. “Rules are meant to be broken, (Y/n), I learned that from Hobie. And besides, the villains we face are the biggest rule-breakers imaginable,” Pav assures, and you nod slightly. “And rules are such rubbish. ‘ey’re always different anywhere ya go. Try not to put so much weight on your mind ‘bout it, breakin’ ‘em ain’t a big deal,” Hobie says. You do actually kinda feel better. Hobie brings up a good point. Rules are different everywhere you go, so breaking one every now and again isn’t that big of an issue. In fact, it can be kind of encouraged. “Besides, breaking rules is almost like challenging ideologies, you know? Like, in breaking a rule, you challenge a system in place that is telling you not to break them. No one likes that. Where would we be if people didn’t break rules?” Gwen says. “That was deep,” Miles says, and Pav nods. “'at was a wicked way a’ puttin’ it, Gwendy.”

That’s a good point, actually. You think for a bit. If you look at it as challenging a system, or even doing what’s right, who’s to say it’s a rule that shouldn’t be broken? Hobie smiles underneath his mask because he knows they’ve gotten through to you. “So, whaddya say we go blow up some water tanks, eh?” Hobie stands, rubbing his hands together. “Okay,” you say. Gwen and Miles fist bump, and Pav does a little clap. The five of you jump into action, immediately starting to taunt and lure Electro to get him close to the towers so you can douse him and put him out.

The plan was going pretty well for the first two attempts, but he eventually catches on to what the five of you are doing. Which makes it harder. Miles does, in fact, get electrocuted. As does Gwen and Hobie, and coming in as no shock to anyone, Miles is definitely the least affected. You were able to dodge all of the attacks. “You’re doing great, (Y/n)! Mind telling me how the fuck your spidey sense is so strong?!” you hear Miles yell. “MILES LOOK OUT!” Gwen screams, but it’s too late. He gets electrocuted again. “Ouch, bro! That one looked like it hurt!” Pav yells, and Miles, who is now lying face down on a roof, raises his hand up in the air, flipping him off. You snort, and then see Hobie fly past you, landing on another water tower. “Hey! Dumbass! Over here!”

“Oh, please. You expect me to fall for that? I know what your little plan is, and I’m not about to be put out,” Electro says, firing some electricity out at Hobie. Unluckily for Hobie, it breaks the water tower and electrocutes him and the water that pours out of it.

You land next to Hobie, who is now just laying on the rooftop, but he grunts and mutters some British slang that you wouldn’t understand even if he explained it to you. So, you know he’s fine. “I have an idea,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But we need to make sure no one is on the street.”

“What’s the goody-goody plannin’ on doin’, huh?” he says, standing. “You’ll see, just make sure there are no civilians or anyone who will get hurt. And keep him distracted.” With that, you leap and go to another one of the water towers. You take a deep breath, thinking back to what Miguel said before the five of you left.

“Try not to destroy the city while you’re at it. (Y/n), I trust you’ll keep them all in line,” Miguel said, and you timidly nod. You’d love to not destroy the city, but it’s so hard doing that as a Spider-Person. But you also don’t want him to yell at you for going against his orders. Now you’re conflicted. “No promises, Miguel. We’re gonna do what we gotta do,” Miles says and Miguel sighs. “If anyone can reign the four of you in, it’s this one. Don’t let them pressure you into acting up, okay?”

You frown. Fuck that. Miguel is pressuring you into not doing your job right. You can’t always be perfect and careful. And lucky for you, the four of them were really good at distracting villains. You web two of the support legs, yanking them and breaking them off the water tower. It starts collapsing, but you catch it. “Shit, you’re heavy,” you grunt, but regain your balance, holding it on your shoulders. You twist your body, ripping the other supports off and making the water tower completely free. You get Electro in your sight and take a deep breath. You lift the water tower, tossing it up in the air before leaping out of the way and towards Electro. You shoot webs from both hands, connecting them to the water tower and yanking it towards you. You swing it around, connecting it with Electro’s body. Sure enough, it knocks him down and explodes on impact, drenching him. And you. And Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and Pav; but hey, you did it.

You land on a roof and look down. Sure enough, Electro is knocked out cold and completely out of electricity. You swing down, placing him in one of the technological cells that Miguel developed specifically for Electros, and nod. “That… probably could have gone better,” you mutter to yourself. Your self-deprecating thoughts were cut off immediately. “That was AWESOME, (Y/n),” Gwen says, giving you a thumbs up and hug. “Yeah, little Spider, that was bitchin’,” Hobie says, giving you a fist bump. “You made it look so easy! How did you do that, you have to teach me!” Pav says, clearly excited and impressed. “You were out here talking about how you didn’t wanna break rules so instead you broke an entire water tower? That’s cool, why don’t you try being less cool next time for the sake of us,” Miles says giving you a pat on the shoulder. You smile. “Thanks, guys.” Their praise was enough to make you feel better for completely and totally wreaking havoc.

But when the five of you return, soaking wet, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I said… to not destroy the city…” he mutters, looking at you with disappointment. You look down. “City’s still standin’, mate. (Y/n) kicked ass,” Hobie says, and the other three make sounds of agreement. “Y-Yeah, Miguel. All I did was break one water tower, it’s not that big of a deal,” you say, and he sighs. “One? You all broke four water towers on four different buildings! And you flooded an entire street! You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Dude. I’m a teenager. Shit happens,” you say, a sudden burst of confidence from being around the group of four allowing you to speak out. Miguel puts his hand on his jaw, sliding his hand down. “Remind me to never team the five of you up again,” he mumbles, and Hobie elbows you. “Nah, we’re a band now. Sorry ‘bout it,” Hobie says, motioning everyone to leave Miguel’s sight. You all follow. When you’re out of Miguel’s office, Hobie bumps your shoulder. “See, that wasn’t all that bad, was it?”

He was right, it wasn’t that bad.

───────────────────────────────────

[agaypanic]

Pls do an NSFW post for rodrick corrupting Jefferson reader. She's so vanilla and i can only wonder what he teaches her behind closed doors

i think i got a little carried away with this so it's all below the cut... whoops

EDIT: i made a full fic version that you can find here

ok so my thing with rodrick is he can be either incredibly dom or incredibly sub, and there's just like no in between. obvi with jefferson!reader, he'd be more dominant bc the jefferson family is a bit of a prim and proper family. you're a good girl.

so why is it turning you on so much when rodrick's fingering you in the back of his van and calling you a dirty girl??

i feel like rodrick would take it slow at first, but after you lose your virginity and get more comfortable with each other, oh boy. theres a lot of degrading praise

"such a good little slut for me" "my perfect dirty girl" "what a fucking whore, you feel so good"

i feel like rodrick would have a dumbification kink or something. being a jefferson, you're pretty smart and are involved with so many extracurriculars and activites. meanwhile, rodrick barely graduated high school and doesn't do much besides hang out with his band. so being able to get you to become a babbling, begging mess under him is a huge accomplishment, and he wants to achieve it every. time.

sometimes you'll get together for music practice (him on drums, you on some kind of classical instrument (violin, cello, piano, etc)) and he'll have you sit on his lap or right next to him. his hands keep ghosting your thighs while you practice.

"nonono, don't focus on me. focus on the music." "you want me to touch you there, sweetie? play that measure again." "don't mess up and i'll let you come, only good girls get to come. you're a good girl, right? yeah you are"

or if he's playing the drums (or maybe teaching you how to play, i think that's a cute thing rodrick would wanna do with his gf), he might have you cockwarm him. your skirt is just barely able to conceal it, and you keep squirming bc rodrick keeps bouncing around while he plays and you just have to sit there and take it. god forbid his mom comes in to check on how you're doing, bc half the time rodrick will strike up a conversation with her just to watch you suffer and try not to break. then when she leaves, he starts teasing you

"such a dirty girl, clenching my cock in front of my mom" "it probably took everything in you to not start riding me, huh?" "you really are just a needy whore, aren't you baby?"

if you're someone who likes academic validation, he will give you that validation!! every B gets you his fingers, every A gets you his cock. but if you ever get a B- or below, it's a ruined orgasm with either a vibrator or slow fingers circling your clit bc "you're better than that baby. you're my good, smart girl, right?"

might have to make an actual fic of this or something, i think i kinda cooked here

[hannieween]

killer | heartbreaker series | c.sc

Choi Seungcheol is a strategist to his core. And he thought it would be simple to steal princess from her castle. Well, he thought wrong.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ✧ aus: gambler seungcheol, boyfriend seungcheol ✧ word count: 18.3k

↣ previous chapters – other fics – buy me coffee? ᨐฅ

₊🎧: heartbreak – minho | winterfall – dpr ian | flower-ed – i.m

₊ nsfw tags under the cut

✧ warnings: flashback chapter, this chapter is really long pls bear w me, smut with plot, reader has an abusive family, cheol is a bit possessive, a whole lot of drama i warned you, first times, corruption kink, oral sex (f), pussy stretching, body worshipping, multiple unprotected sex scenes, pull out method, a whole lot of exhibitionism: sex in public spaces; mentions of alcohol, couch sex, creampie, daddy kink, dom seungcheol, sub reader, big dick seungcheol, monsta x i.m makes an appearance (i love that man, let me be), pet names: love, baby, beautiful, angel (hers), daddy, babe (his)

✧ a/n: this is loosely proofread.

✧ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part iii

six years before – (first year together)

The first time Seungcheol saw you, he swore he had never laid eyes on someone so beautiful. You were strolling around the party wearing a literal tiara on your head and a sparkly dress that played with his eyesight when you walked past him. 

The place was so packed with people but still, you had managed to drive the attention of nearby eyes to you only. When you danced with your girlfriends all in a group and started drinking out of a strawberry vodka, straight from the bottle.

"Birthday girl gets to drink first!" one of your friends chanted over the loud music. That was how Seungcheol knew that it was your birthday. 

Probably that explained the tiara on your head, he thought.

Although Seungcheol had found at last something interesting to hold his attention to, he couldn't help but think that it was a weird place for someone like you to be in. 

He sat at a round foldable table, a ragged green cloth covered it. Completely cluttered with red plastic cups, ashtrays, a lonely tequila bottle and packs of cards. 

Seungcheol had thought that the reunion for tonight would only be for the game. But upon arriving he immediately thought that the crowd was mixed, since on one corner you and your friends were getting blasted, another corner was occupied by the table he was sitting at. And between them, a lot of people who he didn't recognize.

One of your friends laughed loudly when you tilted your head back, mouth wide open while the other poured alcohol down your throat. But you closed your mouth too soon, spilling vodka on your chin and down your neck. 

"What the fuck?" Changkyun muttered under his breath, flicking the bud of the cigarette he was taking to his mouth to give it a long draw, winking one eye as he looked over his shoulder to your friend group. 

"Honey's girlfriend invited them," Seungcheol explained briefly, after being informed of the situation. "It's someone's birthday, I think."

"Mm," he nodded his head and exhaled the smoke slowly. "That would explain all the squealing." 

There was indeed a lot of laughter and squealing coming from your friend group. He noticed that you were probably just here for a pre-drinking session because it was a tad bit too early to be downing shots like that, unless you were planning to go elsewhere. 

You twirled around for one of your friends who apparently wanted to see your sparkly dress and when you did, you elicited a bunch of 'aws' and compliments from your girlfriends, making you blush and cover your face with your hands. 

Seungcheol smiled. Pretty. He threw his head back as he downed the last sip of soju from the bottle. Mind reeling, split in two between the game and the start of his new plan. 

When the game came to an end, Seungcheol collected his prize from the table and pocketed it with a nonchalant expression on his face. 

Changkyun clicked his tongue. "I'll get you next time, Coups." 

Seungcheol rolled his eyes when he heard his friend use his old nickname. "Sure you will, Kyun." 

He rose from the chair and followed his friend out the tiny apartment and onto the open halls of the building complex for a smoke. 

Seungcheol shook his head when offered the blunt. "I'm driving back home," he muttered and bent on the rails to prop his elbows over it. 

Changkyun sucked in a breath and blew the smoke slowly. It was quiet outside, the night had only begun and he could sense that the interesting part was just about to begin. 

"Hiii," a small chirpy voice broke the silence. Seungcheol looked over his shoulder and his friend did too. 

A girl, who Seungcheol vaguely recognized, waved her hand at the pair of unsuspecting men. 

"Hi," Changkyun replied first, the velvet lacing his voice almost made Seungcheol huff in utter embarrassment. 

"Me and my friends are going to this club and we'd like you guys to come with us," she breathed in some of her nervousness. "If you wanna come, obviously." 

Seungcheol remained silent and turned so that he wasn't giving his back to the girl. 

"We'd love to," Changkyun replied first, making Seungcheol arch an eyebrow inquisitively. 

"Great!" the girl replied with a small jolt and turned to run towards your friend group, who watched the whole interaction from afar. "Oh, we're leaving in ten!" 

Seungcheol sent his friend a glare. 

"Wha?" Changkyun squeaked and huffed. "You need to go out more, man. Meet people, girls, dunno." 

"I don't wanna babysit." 

His friend clicked his mouth. "Ayy, you're such a prissy ass," he reprimanded. "Nobody said you'll be babysitting. Have fun for once. Real fun."  

The smell of burnt weed had started to affect him, surely, because Seungcheol only shook his head and said: "Fine. But I can't stay long, okay? I have a game tomorrow morning." 

"I have a game tomorrow morning," Changkyun parroted, doing a poor imitation of Seungcheol's tone and then huffed again before tucking the blunt on his lips one final time. "Nerd." 

"Asshole," he retorted and rolled his eyes.

Seungcheol's friend was a bit of a player, as long as he had known him, he had never settled with one partner for longer than three months. Which, to Seungcheol's point of view, was whatever.

But to his friend, Seungcheol was a total loner.

"It doesn't hurt to do something different once in a while," he encouraged with a small smile. "You're in your head way too much."

"Mm," Seungcheol nodded and made no comment about it.

The only times he has been in these kinds of situations, had been solely because of his friends. He's not one to go out clubbing, if he wants to get drunk, he does it at home, which in this case would mean, his friends' homes, not at his parents.

So as soon as he followed Changkyun, and a group of girls down the packed, steamy, grimy club, he immediately wanted to turn around and leave.

But he felt dragged by his friend, who was eyeing him warning and knowing looks, making Seungcheol feel like a dick, because he totally was already planning an excuse to go home.

And for once, Seungcheol decided to relax. He didn't have any excuses to go home, and in reality, he did need to go out more, he did need to meet people, rather than staying secluded in his own little bubble.

Changkyun immediately found a place to sit, and to manspread, Seungcheol noted silently. His friend knew what he was doing, because as soon as they found a place to watch your pretty friends reunite around a table and dance, they slowly started flocking around him.

Seungcheol snorted and rolled his eyes when a girl sat between him and his friend in the small seat. It was inevitable, Changkyun always had that quiet alluring aura about him. Whereas Seungcheol was more closed off, which, to him, was alright.

He watched under the neon lights the group of girls progressively get drunker, sloppier, happier until the night reached its high and the energy started to decline rapidly.

He stopped paying attention the minute his friend started snogging the girl that made the invitation for them to come, and feeling like he had a window of opportunity to leave, he rose from the seat and snuck out of the club.

Once outside, Seungcheol exhaled the fresh air of the night and looked up at the dark, moonless night. Torn between going back and telling his friend that he was going home or simply pulling a disappearing act and going home.

"Watch your head, oh no, careful–," he heard someone let out a silly chortle. "Oh my god, your dad is going to kill us."

Seungcheol turned and saw you trying to get one of your friends in the backseat of a car. You had your friend wrapped in one arm and managed to get the door open with the other.

"Get in there," you laughed again when your friend started to put in some resistance, not wanting to leave for home. "Oh my god, this looks so bad, Chae please get in there."

Your friend laughed with you, giving up the fight and you closed the car door, waving your friend back as the car drove away. You exhaled tiredly, and drunkenly and slowly turned.

"Oh, hi there," you gasped, a bit startled by his presence. "Did you see all that?"

Seungcheol nodded silently.

"That was my friend's dad," you put in quickly. "Please don't think that I was aiding a kidnapping."

He couldn't bring himself to reply. He obviously saw the situation as it was and didn't interpret it in a wrongful way.

But he also saw in your eyes that you were quite drunk, the rosy colored cheeks and glistening eyes. You were trying to make him laugh, and he totally didn't get it.

"Are you–," you breathed and looked nervous again. "A friend of Kyun's?"

Seungcheol didn't reply again, not as quickly as you wanted.

"One of my friends has a stupid crush on him," you explained and brushed off with a hand. "I was just wondering because... well, I've seen you around campus."

He felt an eyebrow immediately quirk up before he could control himself. "You have?"

You put your hands on your waist and staggered a little bit. Seungcheol noted that you looked tired and, probably from wearing really high heels, and being drunk didn't help much with your balance either.

"Yeah, you're part of the soccer team, right? And you... you're always at the library too," your tone faltered a little by the end of your sentence and you looked away, clearly embarrassed.

Seungcheol couldn't help but grin a little when he noticed you were flustered. "I'd never seen you around," he admitted, enjoying the blush that intensified on your face. "You've been to my games?"

"I've watched you train... once," you stuttered, raising your drunken gaze back at him.

Were you... flirting with him? Probably. Seungcheol noticed that you looked nervous right away, but you were also drunk and that made you brutally honest.

That made him smile for the first time, your big starry eyes zeroed on his lips when he did that. "And... the library?"

"I'm always there too," you mumbled, bringing a hand to brush some hairs off your face.

The cold wind ruffled his hair too, and your hands held onto the sparkly fabric of your pretty dress when it threatened to blow your skirt. You giggled in utter embarrassment but he just thought you were cute.

And apparently, from your reaction and from your drunken comments, you thought the same about him too.

Seungcheol was the cute library crush you always found caught up on schoolwork at the library desks.

At first you thought it was nice that the sportsy, popular guy would mostly be found buried in essays, but once you saw that his popularity was something he didn't even remotely desired, you found him quite alluring.

And from the moment you noticed him, you saw him everywhere around campus. At the gym, the library, the café. Being that he was of the older generations, a lot of girls found him cute too.

"I probably should go back," you slurred after a brief moment of silence and pointed a thumb back to the club's entrance.

Seungcheol thought of anything to keep you there, but at the same time, he had nothing to say yet, he was just enjoying the dazed look on your face, the pinkish cheeks and the sloppy way you licked your lips.

"Happy birthday," he muttered with an honest smile.

You stopped in your tracks, looking completely flustered, you showed him a small frown, a question written in your eyes.

"Thank you."

You smiled sheepishly and he gave you a polite nod before you went back to your friends.

But that was the moment he solidified his plan.

The campus library was always cold. The windows were high in the ceiling, so what little sunlight they let in didn't help alleviate the morning chill either.

Seungcheol sat at one of the most secluded desks, buried in his thesis work. At the moment he was just reading and gathering sources, but he was aching to start writing it so he could just be done with getting his degree.

But it was undeniable that he was brilliant. Top of his class, excelling in his sports scholarship too. He kind of hated it too, he was eager to abandon this place once and for all.

But that morning was different. As soon as he settled in his usual spot, he kept alert to any signs of you, he wondered how you noticed him first and he never did you.

Until you came down to the library, an hour and a half later. You were unsuspecting of his watchful eye and that made him curious.

You wore a fluffy sweater and had put your hair in a ponytail, which swayed and bounced a little with your walk, which he noticed was delicate. Almost as if you didn't want to draw any attention towards you, didn't want to make a sound.

Did you know he was watching you? He couldn't tell, but honestly, he felt it was fair game now that he knew you had watched him more than once.

You sat at the far extreme, and it seemed like that was your spot too. As soon as you settled the book beside your laptop, you raised your gaze to his direction, much as if that was a bit of a habit of yours.

As soon as your gazes connected, you lowered your head, pretending to bury your nose in the book sprawled open in your desk.

Seungcheol couldn't help but stifle a smile when you noticed him and made a weak attempt to pretend you weren't looking his way. But he noticed.

The next hours went down that way, exchanging meek glaces at each other that slowly progressed to more knowing, subtle looks. But it ended too soon, when you checked your phone and realized you were late for a class, gathered your things silently, but swiftly and ran from the library.

The following morning, he decided to sit closer to your table. His usual spot was occupied that day so he saw it as an opportunity to sit on the table next to yours.

Sitting across from you, diagonally, he had a clear view from your flustered face upon entering the study section of the library and finding him closer to your spot in the tables.

But you sat in your usual seat anyway. Silently setting down your stuff, your laptop and notebooks and your obnoxious amounts of post-its and highlighters and got to work.

Ten minutes later you got up to find a book on the shelves. Seungcheol couldn't help but to steal a glance at you, but you appeared to be expecting it. Your gazes crossed again and now it was his turn to look away, completely embarrassed.

He looked down at his laptop's keyboard and pretended to type something while on the inside he was deeply and utterly flustered by you.

When you came back to your seat, Seungcheol didn't dare to look your way, not immediately, he thought it would only make his case way too obvious and scare you away.

But then, in his line of vision, he saw your pretty hand slipping a piece of paper on his table with your handwriting in it.

› hi there •ᴗ•

Seungcheol finally looked up, but you were looking down to your open book, very evidently pretending to be immersed in a page. He scrambled on his backpack for a pencil or a pen, anything, just so he could return the note to you.

› hi

He slid the piece of paper back to your table, but you made no move towards it yet, so he returned to his laptop.

Some minutes later, you slipped a new piece of paper. Now, insead of a written down note, you had drawn a three-by-three grid, a single cross on the top right corner. It was a game of tic-tac-toe.

In disbelief, he raised his eyes back to your still pretentious self and smiled. Drawing his zero on the top left corner and return the game to you.

Seungcheol suspected that you didn't want to make your game evident to respect the silence in the library and the students around you. So some thirty seconds later, you returned the piece of paper and copying you, he returned it thirty seconds later as well.

The game took about three minutes. It ended with you winning when you returned the piece of paper with your three crosses aligned and a smiley face.

› that was an easy win; you said in your pretty handwriting.

Seungcheol exhaled a smile softly.

› i let you win

› sore loser?

› or a gentleman...

You snorted quietly as soon as you read that, making Seungcheol smile embarrassedly.

› i appreciate the gesture, but i prefer fair play

His eyebrow twitched slightly.

› i won't go easy on you next round, then.

› bring it on.

You watched his hand twirl the pencil around his fingers a couple of times before writing down his response. The two of you had forgotten to stay discreet, exchanging looks as you passed each other the piece of paper.

› i will on one condition.

› which is?

› that if i win, you go out on a date with me.

› and if i win?

› you choose your prize.

You slipped a new piece of paper with a clean three-by-three grid, with your cross slotted in the middle.

And either you got sloppy or let him win because the game ended too soon with him winning. Did you want him to win? He wondered.

But soon you both hit it off effortlessly. Seungcheol would soon learn that you were kindhearted, sweet and really smart. One of the reasons why you were always at the library was to keep yourself top of the class, too.

He discovered that one of your aspirations was to dedicate your life to your studies, writing, researching and unraveling the mysteries of past lives, authors and their intentions. And he thought it was great that you were determined in your career.

After a number of dates of just you two going out to grab lunch after course hours, Seungcheol made up his mind. And that was that he really liked you, and wanted something more serious.

"Careful with that," one of his friends warned one night.

It was a big university, but word got around fast that the very popular Seungcheol had his eye set on you.

"Why?" he asked slowly.

"She's kind of royalty," his friend explained, which Seungcheol only replied by pushing his eyebrows up. "I mean, look her family name up, you'll see."

Reluctantly, Seungcheol did what his friend said with a snort. Only to find that indeed, your family was kind of royalty in the city.

Owners of one of the biggest enterprises in the country, your parents appeared to be two powerful entrepreneurs with a significant influence in the country.

There were a bunch of photos of them and you posing by their side, hiding your face from the cameras. Cold, distant to you, but oddly enough dubbed by the media as philanthropists.

And before Seungcheol scrolled for more, he stopped himself.

"I don't see why this should mean anything," Seungcheol finalized, rising from the bench inside the locker rooms.

And it didn't. Not at first, at least.

One night, after much preamble of sweet glances and shy touches, Seungcheol offered you a ride home.

As you slid on the passenger seat in his brother's car, you suddenly felt a very unfamiliar heat warm up your body. You hadn't been this close to Seungcheol in private. So far, your interactions had been kept public, and you hadn't so much as touched his shoulder.

So now that you were beside him, you took a moment to calm yourself. But your anxiety was almost palpable, you became quiet, and tried to avert your gaze from him as best as you could.

But it didn't help that Seungcheol was wearing a navy polo shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And god, he was wearing those jeans today too. His meaty thighs stretched the blue and thick fabric.

Seungcheol noticed your wandering gaze, but made no comment about it.

"Um, pull over here," you signaled him nervously.

"Do you live here?" he asked as he pulled over and leaned over his seat to look up at the tall building at the center of the city.

"Yeah, wi-with my parents," you put in nervously and fidgeted for the door handle and pulled it, opening the door to scramble out of the car.

Seungcheol tilted his head inquisitively and got out of the car as well, following you to the sidewalk. It was already dark outside, so he wondered if your parents gave you some kind of curfew.

"Hold on," he said, stopping you before you could run off to the interior of the building.

"Sorry, I just–," you breathed out nervously and mustered up some courage to look up at his big puppy eyes. "I've never, ever, done this before."

"Done what?" Seungcheol asked slowly, feeling a small smile creeping on his face.

"This, d-dates, dating," you stuttered a bit, which caused you to smile shyly. "I might have some moments of boldness around you but—I really like you, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol looked at you, the sweet girl that hadn't left his mind since that moment he met you, the pretty girl he already had concocted plans to win over, you were toying with the dainty necklace with your fingers anxiously and smiled.

"Call me Cheol," he corrected softly, offering a sliver of familiarity before he added. "I like you too. A lot."

You blinked at him, your fingers stopped fidgeting and your mouth parted a little. "Cheol," you nodded, smiling at him shyly.

"We can take it slow," he offered and pressed his lips into a smile.

His dimples showed on his cheeks and your heart twisted, making your breath hitch ever so slightly.

"But... that's the thing," you crossed your arms over your chest now, and he guessed it was to keep yourself from fidgeting any more. "I don't want to... take it slow."

Seungcheol arched an eyebrow. "Please elaborate," he mumbled with a goofy chuckle.

"I mean, we've gone out five times already and you haven't even kissed me," you babbled and he could see that you were beginning to be flustered.

Seungcheol pondered for a second. Why hasn't he kissed you yet? Well, it wasn't his indecision, really. He would've done it the first time you both went out together. But the truth was, he wanted to do things right with you.

"I didn't want you to think that I'm going too fast," he mumbled hesitantly, bringing a hand up to scratch a fake itch on his nape.

"Oh," you uttered and frowned. "In that case..." you trailed off, unable to find what words to say.

Your previous words you said hung in his mind, giving out the reason why you were almost jittery whenever he even so much dared to press the palm of his hand between your shoulder blades.

You've never had a boyfriend before. Not by choice, you've had a few crushes before, but nothing that ever went farther than just simple, innocent kisses.

But Seungcheol had awakened something in you. Something so unfamiliar that unnerved you to your bones. It was a warmth that made you feel hot under your clothes, it made your blood rush to your cheeks and twist your heart.

"Come here," Seungcheol said, opening his strong arms and pulling you in a comforting hug.

It wasn't a friendly hug, the purpose of it was to try and calm down your anxieties, to make you realize that he wanted to be more serious with you.

You stiffened under his embrace at first, but quickly wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your head on his shoulder, breathing in his manly scent, the cologne in his clothes.

The warmth feeling invaded you again when you felt his heartbeat against your own chest, when he appeared to be pressing his lips slowly on the crown of your head. Oh my god, you thought over and over.

When you felt like the hug had went over for minutes, you peeled off his body slowly and reluctantly, but suddenly stopped short

"Oh–," you gasped.

"What–," he muttered and looked down.

Your gold necklace had tangled in one of the buttons of his polo shirt, making you giggle shyly and brought a hand up to attempt to untangle the mess.

Seungcheol seized your hand, your eyes snapping to his nervously as his other hand came to cup your chin gingerly. Your eyes read his face, widening slightly when you saw it in his gaze—he wanted to kiss you.

His half-lidded puppy eyes swam over the features of your face, on your eyes, your lips and then back up. And you wondered what the look on your face might have been, because it made him smile softly.

You, in turn, looked flustered. And Seungcheol knew that you wanted this because your lips had parted in desire, your breath hitched at his touch. And your eyes, so telling of your own intentions.

Slowly, Seungcheol dipped his head to meet your lips with his own, keeping his hand on your chin to keep you in place. You swallowed hard the second you felt his wet lips on yours, pressing tenderly once, twice, until they locked slowly, moving against each other seamlessly.

Your eyes had fluttered close, as you let the man you've been crushing for months dominate the kiss, and that he did gingerly, almost lovingly. The hand that had seized yours slowly pressed his palm against your own, and you took the liberty to lace your fingers with his.

When the kiss ended he parted to look at your pretty eyes, moving the hand from your chin to brush the softness of your cheek and you leaned in to his touch, almost instinctively.

"Seungcheol," you muttered then, "Cheol, I have something to tell you."

You pressed your hand against the one that was cupping your cheek. And Seungcheol pushed his eyebrows up slightly, encouraging you to speak.

"I don't know how much you know about me, about my family, but it has scared some people off my life before and... I don't want that to be you," you muttered with a tinge of nervousness quivering your tone.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassured, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead. "Don't think that for a second."

That was the start to your relationship with Choi Seungcheol.

And for all his plans of taking it slow, you both sure flew into first, second, third base pretty fast. Seungcheol was careful with you every step of the way, but sometimes he found you so hard to resist.

And it didn't help that your sex drive was just as high as his, or even higher.

The making out session had started innocently. Seungcheol had driven almost aimlessly out of the city until he found a perfect spot to park in a secluded area.

By this point, you were a month into dating. So you were pretty much still new to all things relating to intimacy. But at the same time, you were so eager for more. To go past brief touches and short make out sessions.

But there was something different about you tonight. Maybe it was that you were far from the city and the car was practically hidden from view and upcoming cars, deep into some trail in the woods.

Maybe it was that you thought he looked extra hot that night. Wearing a tight black long sleeve t-shirt. But you found Seungcheol hot, no matter what he did or wore.

You were pressed against the steering wheel of the car, straddling him in a very lewd manner. You've never gone this far, but it was exciting, it was taunting.

"Baby," he muttered against your lips, one of his hands was cupping your face while the other was kneading anxiously at the curve of your waist.

"Mm?" you hummed softly in his mouth, not wanting to pull away, you felt as though you were unable to.

"Is this okay?" he asked with a strangled tone. It had been some minutes since either of you had spoken. He cleared his throat and added: "We're not going too far?"

You had never gotten this close to anyone before. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest that you could feel your pulse at your throat.

"This is okay," you breathed, capturing his lower lip between yours and he groaned. "I want this."

"Want what?" he moved a hand from the side of your face to your lower back, eliciting a small moan from you. "Fuck," he breathed when he heard you.

"I want you," you whispered, pressing your lips on his jawline, then down his neck, daring to lick his skin.

His fingers clenched on your flesh, over your clothes and hissed loudly. "Baby, don't do that," he groaned.

"Don't like it?" you asked and finally peeled off him.

The look on your face was something Seungcheol couldn't get enough of. You looked flustered, hot and horny. Your lips were swollen from all the kissing, and the steamy conditions from the inside of the car made your skin dewy, making your hair stick to your neck.

"I do, I like it," he chuckled, feeling embarrassed. "I like it too much."

Your features took on a bolder look. "How much?" you asked with a playful tone, smiling a bit.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes at your playful question, feeling like he might explode soon.

But he only took your hand and guided it to the huge bulge pressing against his jeans, wordlessly telling you just how much he was driven insane by you.

It was a bold move, he knew it. Your eyes widened and a shudder invaded you, along with that warmth that begged you to move farther, to get more from this interaction.

You swallowed thickly. "You're..." you trailed off.

Seungcheol mimicked you and swallowed hard too. He removed your hand from his hard crotch and kissed your knuckles.

"Do you want to... do something about it?" you asked shyly and smiled to yourself.

"Like what?" he asked, now being playful with you.

"Do you want me to touch you?" you asked with a tiny voice, your shifty eyes averting from his.

"No," he replied, drawing your eyes back at him with a question written in them. "I don't want you to do that now, baby."

"Doesn't it... hurt?" you asked meekly and turned your gaze yet again from him.

Seungcheol smiled. "Not right now, but it will later," he replied simply, shrugging as if this wasn't the first time he's gotten blue-balled by you.

"Why does it sound like it's normal for you?" you caught right on, an eyebrow jumping up.

He pinched your chin with his index and thumb. "You drive me crazy, baby. You always leave me a little needy," he explained, but then realizing how he sounded, he added: "But it's okay, I'm not pressuring you to do anything you don't want to do."

"But I want to, Cheol," you repositioned yourself on his lap, scooting your crotch closer to his.

That made his hands snap to your hips, just when he felt a little bit of friction on his hard and clothed cock.

He stifled a moan. "What do you want, baby?"

You swore you went a little crazy every time he called you that. You bit your lip, looking at his big and dark eyes.

His hand cupped your chin again, motioning you closer so that he could kiss you on your lips.

"Mm? What do you want?" he egged you on, his voice low and pouring into your ears.

"Take me," you whispered between kisses.

A groan bubbled in his chest and deepened the kiss by swiping a line with the tip of his tongue on your lower lip. You moaned softly in his mouth too, and the sound might have sent him into a frenzy too.

"No," he groaned with a low guttural tone.

"Please?" you asked before he could even explain himself.

"Not here, baby," he started and pressed his body back on his seat, thus parting away from your lips. "You're not having your first time in my brother's car."

You blinked, looking a bit startled and searched his eyes.

"Don't you want to have your first time in a bed?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting at his question.

That seemed to cool you down from your frenzy moment and appeared to be considering it.

You nodded quietly. "With you," you replied with a certain tone of plea.

He blinked slowly, realizing that you had thought he was rejecting your advances. "Of course, baby," he replied with a warm smile.

You pressed your lips in a cute pout, and then you hit him with puppy eyes. "Can we... continue where we left off?"

"What do you want?" he asked again, his hands parked on your hips.

You fidgeted with the collar of his black t-shirt, shyly glancing at his eyes, then back to your hands. "Can you touch me?"

Seungcheol pressed his hands on the curve of your waist and nodded. "Where, baby?"

Your breath hitched audibly but neither of you made note about it. Borrowing a page from his book, you took his hands from your waist, and guided them to your breasts, indicating where you wanted his hands.

Your blood rushed to your face in utter embarrassment from how wet you felt already, your panties were pooling with your arousal and the second you motioned his hands on your breasts, over your clothes, you swallowed back a moan.

Seungcheol applied pressure to your tits, kneading at them softly, over the fabric of your blouse and bra. You knew that wasn't enough, you needed to feel him directly.

You dropped your forehead on his and breathed out your nervousness. "God, I'm so wet," you whispered and let out an embarrassed laugh.

Seungcheol groaned louder this time and closed his eyes fiercely. His hands flew from your tits and pressed you down on his cock by your hips.

"Fuck," he breathed, anxiously tightening his grip on your sides. "Can I feel you?"

You nodded desperately. "Yes, please?" you sighed a moan.

His hand sneaked beneath your skirt, realizing that you might've come prepared for this because you were also wearing a lace thong, as soon he would discover when the pads of his fingers grazed your clothed pussy.

"Baby," he called, making you pull back and lock eyes with him. "You can stop me if you feel uncomfortable, okay?"

You nodded and bit your lip in anticipation, looking down where his hand had disappeared beneath your skirt.

But a hand grabbed your chin gently to lift your gaze back at his. "I need to hear it."

"Okay," you replied.

He then searched for the hem of your thong and moved it aside to uncover your cunt to his fingers, where he ran the pads of his fingers, shuddering slightly when he felt the softness covered with your arousal.

"So wet," he whispered and swallowed back a groan. "You're dripping, baby."

You nodded and bit back a moan when his fingers exploring your cunt found your clit almost effortlessly.

"There?" he asked and you nodded. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Good," you breathed immediately when the pads of his middle fingers rubbed your clit back and forth, pressing on the nub just the right amount to make you moan.

"You sound so sweet," he mumbled almost entrancingly, enjoying the look on your face when your eyelids fluttered shut and your lips parted a little, allowing a sigh to escape between them.

Your hands slid from his shoulders down to his chest and you leaned back on the steering wheel to give him ample space to continue pleasuring you.

Seungcheol put his free hand to use by hiking your skirt up, uncovering your lush thighs to his view. Under the weak moonlight, he could also see your pretty cunt, and he pushed your panties aside further so he could see just how wet you were.

"God, baby," he looked up, his darkened eyes finding yours. "You're perfect."

You were still biting your lip, unable to make a coherent response because his touch was nearly driving you crazy.

Seungcheol threw you a cautious glance, before dipping one finger inside your entrance, his mouth parted at the same time yours did.

"Cheol," you mewled when his finger slid in completely exploring your warm and wet walls.

"Is that okay?" he asked, dragging his finger out to then push it back in.

You nodded and then replied. "Yeah, okay," you babbled.

"More?" he asked, but it sounded like he was testing you.

"Yes, yes more, please," you whimpered desperately trying to get more so you could finally get the pleasure you seeked.

Seungcheol pushed another digit in, feeling your walls contract and that made him gasp. But wasted no time and started exploring your gummy walls, every ridge, every slippery fold.

You held onto one of his buff biceps, your fingers digging on his muscle quite harshly but not enough to hurt him.

"Relax, baby," he whispered. But there was no denying that he was loving every second of you getting off by just a couple of fingers. And not only that, him being the first to be doing this was also giving him a rush.

"It feels good," you gasped and looked at his eyes.

"Yeah? Do you like it if I do this?" he asked before curling his fingers inside you, the pointy tips of his fingers pressing on your walls in a very sensitive spot.

"God! Yes, that feels good," you gasped, your hips buckled on top of him just as he started to move his hand repeatedly, teasing that glorious spot inside you.

"Like that?" he asked with a strangled tone, feeling like he might come in his pants from just seeing you and feeling you with his fingers.

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered. "Don't stop—please? Please, Cheol, it feels so good."

Seungcheol felt the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smirk. "I'm not stopping, baby," he replied.

Your breath had started to hitch and the hand holding onto his bicep clenched hard and then went lax. You were close, but it was quite difficult to get to your much desperately needed release.

"Do you want to rub your clit?" Seungcheol asked when he noticed and you nodded. "Show me how you do it, baby," he instructed, not stopping his hand on your cunt, but only moving it to give more access to your fingers.

You lifted your hips a little, giving him the full view to your cunt as you reached your clit with your fingers and started rubbing. You mewled instantly at the motion of both your fingers and his inside you, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Are you close, angel?" he asked, when he saw the features of your face relax, moaning sweetly and looking almost angelical.

"Yeah," you gasped, a rush of bliss taking over you when he used that new nickname on you. "Mm so close," you moaned.

"God, you look so good like this," he whispered in complete awe.

"Cheol," you mewled. "I'm there, god, g–ah," your eyebrows knitted and your mouth opened, breathing in sharply as you came hard on his fingers, the orgasm was nearly mind-numbing, not only from how good it felt, but from how long you had been aching for this.

"So good, so good," you whimpered over and over as you came, eyes closed, enjoying every second of it.

Seungcheol also enjoyed the look on your face, the sounds you made, how tightly you squeezed his fingers with your warm walls.

By the end of your orgasm, you were panting, thighs trembling a little, and you leaned forward a little to get some support. Seungcheol used his free hand to cup your cheek, motioning you over to his lips.

You kissed him softly, still breathing erratically.

"You did so good, baby," he whispered on your lips. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you frowned. "Perfect, actually."

Seungcheol laughed and pressed his lips on your forehead.

You shuddered slightly when he pulled out his fingers from your walls and brought his hand up to his mouth to lick your arousal from his fingers, looking at your eyes as he got his first taste of you.

"Seu—Cheol? What are you doing?" you sounded alarmed as you watched him groan in approval and as if he were testing you, he pulled you for a kiss.

You tasted yourself in his tongue, the act so lewd that it had you whimpering again.

"You're so perfect baby," he muttered with a low tone.

He fixed your panties back in place and then your skirt, his fascinated eyes reveling at the sight of you on top of him.

You looked around for the first time in what seemed like hours, and realized that the windows had become obscured with a light layer of condensation.

The sight made you smile a little—it seemed just like in movies. And you were so, so in love with Seungcheol. It seemed fast, but you were also young and so willing to discover things about yourself at his side that time seemed to be unimportant to you.

You brought up a finger and started scribbling on the window of the car.

"I love you," your little message read.

Seungcheol felt something so strong in his chest that it almost robbed him of air. You shyly looked back at him, expecting a response, reading his face for any signs of rejection.

"I love you too," he answered vocally, cupping your face with his hands to kiss you passionately.

Some weeks later, after more taunting each other with heavy make out sessions. You found yourself pressed against the mattress of his twin bed. Nearly naked, only your matching bra and thong were covering your body.

Seungcheol had wished for an opportunity like this. Somehow he was struck by a miracle when his parents told him they would be out of town, so he knew that was his chance to prompt this proposition to you.

Which, of course, you agreed to.

Seungcheol was bare from the waist up, his body hovering on top of you as he slowly worshiped your body, both with kisses and with his sweet words.

You were nervous, utterly embarrassed as you pressed your thighs together, your breathing had turned erratic, pathetically loud to your ears as you watched your boyfriend kneel on the bed before your body.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he instructed with a soft tone, running a hand on your knee, caressing your bare skin.

You pushed your knees up and parted your thighs slowly for him to slot his body between them. And before he could press his chest to yours, you snaked a hand beneath you to unclasp your bra and removed the straps swiftly.

"Slow down," he chuckled and leaned down to press his lips against yours. "We have time, don't worry."

"I'm nervous," you admitted with a sigh.

"I know," he replied and smiled sweetly at you. "I'm nervous too," he confessed but he didn't look nearly as nervous as you.

Though he was.

"But you've done this before," you countered, blinking at him confusedly.

"It's the first time I do it with you, angel," he replied, pressing his lips on your face, then littering your throat with more kisses.

"I want you to like it," you muttered with a tiny voice.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, breaking away from your neck to look at your eyes. "Baby, I'm going to like it no matter what. Relax, I got you."

Seungcheol waited until you gave him a nod with your head and continued loving your skin with his lips. You tried to ease your head into his pillows and you tried to do the same with your limbs, relaxing into the duvet of his twin bed, which you noticed, smelled like his clothes usually do.

"Don't worry about me," he muttered into your ear, making you shudder slightly. "I want you to focus on what you're feeling. Tell me what you like and what you don't, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered.

"You can close your eyes if you want to," he offered before pressing his lips on your cheek.

You decided to keep looking at Seungcheol as he moved your bra aside with delicate fingers, uncovering your breasts to his eyes and he let out a soft sigh that landed on your skin, making it prickle.

You suppressed a sigh, your hands instantly reaching out to hold onto his shoulders and neck when he pressed his lips against your chest, just above your heart, smirking to himself when he heard you swallow back a whimper.

You flinched quite dramatically when his mouth reached down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, loving the taste of your skin, the smell of your perfume with a pleased groan.

Your hand traveled up from his neck and toyed anxiously at the short hair on the back of his head as he moved to kiss and lick your other nipple.

"Baby," he reminded you gently.

"Good," you croaked. "That feels good."

"Do you want to undress me?" he asked, pulling back to his knees on his bed.

You nodded and sat up, getting his belt and undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. He stood up from the bed and you sloppily undressed him, chuckling embarrassedly at yourself throughout the process.

You looked up at the growing bulge beneath his black boxers and instinctively reached for the elastic band and pulled the last piece of clothing on his body.

You bit your lip harder than before when you saw your boyfriend wholly naked and standing in front of you. He was fully hard for you already, the pinkish red tip of his cock was glistening with precum at his slit.

All the times you imagined him naked weren't compared to the real beauty Seungcheol was. Your eyes roamed from his broad shoulders, his lean chest, to the soft hairs trailing down from his belly button and joining his pubic hair.

Seungcheol was big, but you had figured that out already. But seeing him fully bare was something else. He enjoyed the look in your eyes when you couldn't help but to reach out and touch his milky white skin.

The muscles of his abdomen tightened slightly when you ran your fingertips over the soft lines marking it and down his meaty thighs. Darting a look up at him, you trailed a fingertip down the shaft of his cock, his breath hitching slightly at the feeling. You gingerly ran the pad of your finger over the soft ridges below his cockhead and swallowed thickly.

Seungcheol moved decisively towards you, pressing a knee on the bed then the other, making you crawl backwards on the bed and lie back down on his pillows.

His fingers hooked on the band of your lace thong you bought solely for the occasion and slid them down your legs slowly and you lifted your feet from the mattress for him to get rid of the thong and finally have you completely bare and exposed to him.

"You're so, so beautiful, baby," he said with a sigh, his big expressive eyes marveling at your figure on his bed.

"Thank you, Cheol," you whispered bashfully.

You averted your gaze when he dipped his head and started grazing kisses along your tummy and tried to focus on the sensations, your skin prickling, heating up, the arousal shooting like a bolt of lightning inside you with each kiss.

The blinds on Seungcheol's room were slightly parted, blowing in with the wind that filtered through the open window. It was a quiet, windy night, and the soft glow of the moonlight gave you the opportunity to explore his bedroom with your eyes.

Until his lips reached below your belly button, making you jolt slightly under him.

"Your skin smells so sweet," he pointed with a low hum and raised his head to show you a smile. "Did you do that on purpose?"

You nodded. "It's raspberry lotion," you explained meekly.

Seungcheol smiled, circling a hand on your hip and slid down your skin and pressed his lips on the inner side of your thigh, making you jump slightly again.

"Easy," he breathed, littering your skin with more kisses as if wanting you to get accustomed to the feeling.

"That feels good," you slurred, closing your eyes when a shudder ran from your legs to your face.

Then he pressed his tongue on your inner thigh, really close to your pussy.

"God," you gasped, opening your eyes wide and propped your weight on your elbows.

"Tell me if it's too much," he mumbled, trailing more open mouthed kisses until his lips reached your mound.

Your breath hitched and nodded. "Okay," you whispered, reaching out to graze his scalp with the pads of your fingers, eliciting a low groan from the man who was between your legs, the first person to ever be this intimate with you.

"Oh my god," you breathed when he gently and so, so slowly pushed his tongue between your pussy lips, parting your slippery folds with a generous stroke with his tongue.

His hands came to angle your thighs open for him when your first instinct was to try and close them. He pressed his mouth to your cunt, licking your arousal from your entrance with a groan that you felt on your soft flesh.

"Cheol, babe," you gasped, watching him ravage your cunt slowly, making the most loud wet sounds when his pointed tongue glided between your folds and swirled around your clit.

"Babe, don't stop," you whimpered, your hips buckling against his face when his tongue started flicking your swollen bud. He blinked and raised his eyes to find yours.

And he didn't stop, not to speak, not to rest and even though his mouth was starting to feel tired, he was determined to make you come first like this.

"God—Cheol," you mewled, feeling a tingling wave rushing through your body, intensifying by the second. "Babe, I'm there, 'm–"

You sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering violently on his bed as your orgasm flooded your body in hot waves. Overwhelming sensations invaded you as you cried out, your voice sounding raw and lewd. You felt it everywhere, not just between your thighs.

He pressed his lips on your clit and on your mound as he removed his hands from your thighs, using them to support his body by placing them at your sides.

"Good?" he muttered as he lowered the lower half of his body between your legs, without pressing his full weight on you.

His lips looked slick and swollen, and when you reached out to capture them with yours, you tasted your arousal on his tongue, making you moan at how lewd the act felt.

"Great," you breathed.

Your eyes had a post-sex glaze look on them, still breathing heavy, you looked heavenly this way. And Seungcheol loved that he was the reason why you looked like that.

"God, you're so beautiful, baby," he whispered, pressing his lips on yours between each word.

"Cheol?" you whispered, dragging his gaze back to yours.

"Mm?"

"I want you now," you mumbled with a sweet tone.

Seungcheol read your eyes briefly, looking for any signs of uncertainty, before he leaned his weight on one forearm at your side, his free hand grabbed his fully hard cock and guided it to your core.

You sucked in a breath again, when Seungcheol glided his cockhead down your wet folds with a low groan before nuzzling at your entrance.

Then he slowly eased himself into you, the fiery discomfort at your entrance was immediate, making your muscles contract and the scrunch on your face made him pause.

"Talk to me baby," he instructed softly.

"I'm okay," you breathed. "Keep going, please, Cheol."

He mouthed a 'okay' and pushed inside you slowly, his hand came up to cup your cheek to hold your gaze, your eyebrows knitted and your mouth parted, and he felt himself mimic your expression as he sheathed himself completely inside your warm, fluttery walls.

Seungcheol watched your beautiful features as he dragged his cock out and pushed in again, slowly, making your walls ease around him, adjusting to his size, letting him fuck you slowly.

Small moans spilled from your lips as the discomfort dissipated and soon turned into a warm, sweet pleasure, making your eyes flutter close and sigh blissfully.

Each drag of his cock in and out of you felt deliriously good. Seungcheol was slowly driving himself mad with your moans, with the feeling of your warm throbbing walls around him, taking him so good he was sure that you were made for him only.

It also made him a little crazy to think that it was your first time feeling something like this, to have him claiming you before anyone else. He shuddered and dropped his head on the crook of your neck, failing to control himself.

"I need to put a condom on, baby," he groaned against you, lifting his head to look at you.

"No, please. Just a little bit longer?" you immediately whined.

"I might not last long," he admitted shyly. "You feel so fucking good."

"You-you feel good too," you blurted.

Your arms were encircling him by his shoulders, your wrists locked behind his nape. You hummed a sigh when his hips pressed against you, driving his cockhead into a spot that felt just too good. Your walls clenched and he immediately pulled out with a low groan.

"I'm putting it on," he murmured, kissing you chastely before pulling his body up and reaching for a condom on his nightstand. He opened it with his experienced fingers and slid the condom down to his hilt.

Seungcheol slid inside you again, the contact of the latex inside you created a noise when he started delivering precise thrusts against you again. Undeniable, it felt different with protection, but it still felt good.

So good in fact that when his thrusts picked up pace, you moaned against the crook of his neck, the feeling of being so close, open and vulnerable with him so intense that you were sure you were losing what little sanity you had left.

"I love you," you breathed against his lips.

Seungcheol stifled a moan and his hand cupped your cheek again. "I love you too baby," he responded, lips grazing against yours.

He came not a second after you with soft moans and calling your name as he pressed his hips sloppily against you until he was rendered breathless on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he blinked back to reality.

Seungcheol was in love.

Time flew by and soon it was your first anniversary with him. Still in love, still making puppy eyes at each other. Your relationship moved almost seamlessly without any issues.

You both loved spending time together, whether it was going out together or just chilling at home. Seungcheol had moved out of his parents house and started renting a small one bedroom apartment. Freshly graduated, he wasted no time and started working, which was something he was aching to do.

There were little disagreements, but you always found a way to talk and work things out. It was like you were a team, facing every single challenge together.

On your anniversary, Seungcheol prepared a dinner to celebrate the year you had spent together. He placed candles on the table and seemed nervous before he led you inside his tiny apartment, covering your eyes with his hands, chuckling all the way as you stretched your arms out in case you stumbled and fell.

"Ready?" he mumbled in your ear.

"Ready," you replied and he uncovered your eyes.

There was a flower bouquet on a vase sitting on top of the table, which you noticed were your favorite flowers.

"This is beautiful, Cheol," you started and turned around to face him.

Only to find him on one knee, a small blue velvet box in his hand. The glint in his puppy eyes as he looked up at you with such adoring eyes as your heart clenched.

"No, stop!" you whined. "You're joking," you laughed as your eyes brimmed with tears that spilled onto your cheeks when he laughed with you when you told on his prank.

He opened the box, revealing his gift to you, which was a pretty dainty gold necklace with a heart locket.

"Happy anniversary," he said with his goofy laugh and rose just as you cupped his cheeks to kiss him lovingly.

The laughter and the sparkle in your eyes made it an unforgettable night for him.

A memory he would cherish for a long time.

second year

It was your twenty second birthday.

And soon it will be your second anniversary with Seungcheol. And it seemed hard to believe how fast time had passed you by, and how fast Seungcheol became the center of your whole world.

He was your partner through a world of self-discovery. Did you want to try new kinks? He was all in. Did you want to try weed or shrooms for the first time? He'd take care of you—or do it together in a safe space.

You had so much fun together that he wasn't only the love of your life, he was your best friend. And you were still so in love with him, it seemed like a dream, almost.

As the second anniversary rolled around, Seungcheol made it a little tradition to get on one knee to present you with jewelry. The second time he did it, your heart jumped again but you knew what his plan was, which was to get that joyful look on your face.

This time, you knew that if he presented you with a ring, you would've said yes.

third year

Choi Seungcheol is a strategist to his core.

At least, that's what a lot of people say about him. He doesn't like to think too much of himself, but sometimes, when he pays attention to what the people around him say, they say things akin to him being thoughtful, always scheming, always analyzing.

Seungcheol was a hundred percent sure about you. From the first anniversary together, he started planning the day he would get down on one knee and ask you to marry him seriously.

At this point you had been together for three years, and not one single day he doubted himself with you. There were some setbacks, money being one of them, but he could manage. The only problem was dealing with your overbearing parents.

Steal princess from the castle, that was the name of his little plan.

In fact, as your twenty fourth birthday drew near, he thought of the way he would carry out this plan. One day, when you were away with your parents' for a whole weekend, he knew this was his chance.

He pressed the phone to his ear and waited for the line to be picked up. Chewing on his lower lip, sitting on his sofa with one leg crossed.

"Hi mom," he smiled when he heard his mother's voice greet him. Then he started picking on the hem of his clothes with his free hand as he said. "I need your help with something."

"Are you alright, baby?" his mother queried immediately.

Seungcheol noticed how nervous he sounded, added to his sudden ask for help and put in quickly. "Oh! Yes, yes, yes, I'm fine mom. Don't worry," he chuckled awkwardly. "I was thinking of picking you up later this evening for coffee and... I want you to help me choose a ring."

Silently, Seungcheol looked at the ceiling.

"An engagement ring?" his mother asked, a tinge of emotion twisting her words.

"Yes, mom," he breathed in. "I'm proposing," he nodded and gulped hard, trying to swallow down the emotions that coiled in his throat.

His mother didn't need to ask if he was sure, or if it was too soon. Because everyone knew how much he loved you.

Everyone knew you were end game.

fourth year

Every relationship has its ups and downs. But everything with Seungcheol seemed to be so good that it made you think that saying was just a fabricated thing to persuade people to stay in their relationships.

That was until you got in for a master's degree in a prestigious university abroad. It was a really big thing for you, a dream come true, really. But sadly you didn't get the necessary support to accept the offer.

Of course you wouldn't get the funding. Your family name was related to wealth, so why should anyone give you the funding when you could afford it yourself?

However, your parents stepped in, offering their help to you under one condition. Their condition was that you had to break up your relationship with Seungcheol, and once you finished your master's degree you'd have to marry someone they approve of. They'd cover all the expenses, the tuition, everything.

You just had to break up with your boyfriend. Marry someone worthy of you. They said,

You declined.

"What happened, baby?" Seungcheol had spent the past hour holding you as you cried and sobbed uncontrollably in his shoulder.

You had tried to tell him what had happened, but every time you opened your mouth a sob would have you breaking down in tears all over again.

"Baby, you're scaring me," he warned for the nth time, but he waited patiently for you, he rocked your body in his arm gently and kneaded your back with his hands attempting to soothe you.

The two of you were standing on the sidewalk outside the building where you lived with your family. Seungcheol had waited so long for you to speak that he was now leaning against his old car.

When he saw your figure hurriedly come out of the building, he supposed that you probably were running to him thinking you were late; however as soon as he saw your crushed face he immediately got out of his car to hold you, knowing that you were about to break down in tears.

He initially assumed the worst, his mind went to any possible scenario that could have you in such a state, and he voiced his concerns while rubbing your back.

"Has someone passed away? Is someone sick?"

Or perhaps,

"You've been cut off again?"

Maybe, maybe,

"Are you pregnant, baby? Is that it?"

The last two were issues he knew he could help you figure out.

He'd done it before, once your mom got sick of threatening you with cutting you off the will and allowances, she kicked you out of her house. Seungcheol would let you crash in his apartment, whenever you needed it. And he'd secretly wanted you to move in.

And if in one in a million chance he got you pregnant, well... He was all in with you. Whatever you decided, he was all in.

"I g-got accepted," you sobbed, but most of your words got muffled in the crook of his neck.

"What was that?" he asked softly and you sensed him lowering his face to look at your head in his shoulder.

"I got accepted," you told him more clearly, swallowing your sobs.

"Baby, that's great. That's your top choice, right?," his soft voice was a bit closer now. "Why are you crying?"

Seungcheol was well aware of all the post-graduate applications you did the previous year, and you had some letters of acceptance but you were waiting for the letter of acceptance and it had finally arrived.

He didn't really care if you went to another country; he wanted you to fulfill your dreams. He could wait for you, that was the initial plan, to wait for you while you achieved your milestone abroad.

"I didn't get the funding," you replied. "I didn't get it for any of the applications."

Oh. Seungcheol knew that you needed the funding, otherwise you were pretty much at a loss. Even though you had many other options, it would be really hard for you if you wanted to break away from your family's nasty hooks once and for all.

"And my mom told me they can give me all the funding, everything," you continued, now speaking fast as if you wanted to get the words out before breaking in tears again. "But they'll do it only if I break up with you and marry someone else when I get the degree. They weren't even pleased that I got accepted, it's like they were planning this."

Seungcheol just listened, but he couldn't help but feel a mixture of rage and anguish at what he was witnessing. How could they do that to you? You were their daughter, why would they try to sabotage you at any chance they had?

He knew your parents didn't hate him. Hate was earned. He just wasn't what they thought was 'good enough' for you. They were just waiting for what they called your 'little fling' to end, hoping that you would move on to what they considered a more serious relationship with someone they thought was more 'suitable'.

And by that they meant, filthy rich.

Granted, Seungcheol didn't make one small fraction of the money your parents made, probably never will. But he took care of you, he loved you. Wasn't that enough?

But he couldn't give you what your parents were offering. He knew that. He wasn't ready for that.

"You should accept," he said suddenly, he even felt like he was betraying himself.

You stiffened, finally looking up from his shoulder. "W-what?" you sniffed. "Cheol, are you listening? We'd have to split-"

"Not really," he muttered, seeing you so broken made him want to cry too. "We can still be together. Your parents don't have to know."

You smiled bitterly through your tears. "I'd be married off to someone else, and then what? They told me they already talked with some other family. They can arrange a marriage 'cause they're crazy like that."

Seungcheol knew just how crazy your family was. They were the kind of family that would whip out a binding contract on you if you agreed to marry someone else. They made the kind of money to hire a PI to follow you around because they didn't actually know who their daughter was.

Your parents didn't like what they found, obviously. And they could pretty much pinpoint the exact moment in your life when you started to feel more free. Such things they mostly thought were 'acts of rebellion'. And Seungcheol was your partner in crime.

He nodded and looked heavenward. "I can't give you what they can. I just don't make the money."

"I'm not saying that, babe. Besides, I already declined my mom's offer," you mumbled through your tears and whiny sobs. "I'm not breaking up with you."

"So you're not following your dream because of how I'd feel?" he looked at you again. "Baby, this is not what I want for you. You know that."

Studying abroad has been your dream since you could remember. You made it your whole life besides being with Seungcheol, if there was anything you could ever do for your whole life, it'd be reading, writing. You were always buried in books.

He cupped your flushed face in his hands. "This is your future. This is yours long before I was. I can't be the reason why you don't follow through. I just can't."

Your eyes met his and knew he was being dead serious.

"I won't break up with you. That's my final decision."

He sighed, but not out of relief. He hated arguing with you. Having arguments with you happened rarely, but you were just as stubborn as he was—perhaps even more so, and often pushed arguments for hours until he was the one who eventually gave in.

"Can we at least consider what I'm saying?" he proposed in a gentle tone, trying to convince you.

"I'm not keeping us a secret either!" you countered. "That's crazy, Seungcheol. Are you serious?!"

He visibly flinched when he heard you call him by his full name. "It's not crazy, it's a possibility, a plan."

You inhaled deeply, feeling the chill in the air as your fingers brushed his dark hair. He recently had it trimmed short on the sides, so he looked boyish and younger, even. He looked just like when you met him.

You loved him. Your love for him wouldn't be kept a secret.

"We'll think of something else," that was your final say about it.

It is true that Seungcheol had grown a bit disdainful of himself ever since your parents had let on their thoughts of him. You didn't have to tell him anything directly, he could sense it. The cold shoulder, the glares, the offhanded comments.

They didn't have to be straightforward with him. Seungcheol also noticed it in the way your parents treated you; the constant threats, warnings, always cutting you off, the blackmail.

It was easy, from the minute he witnessed your parents talk down to you he knew he would never like them.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

That grew into dark thoughts in his mind, a sneaky internal voice that would feed into his insecurities, every dark thought inside him and these would get stronger each time he doubted himself with you.

Not feeling enough can be suffocating.

"Babe, you split your lip," you told him, offering him a tissue he could wipe the blood that was now mixing with his drool on his lips.

He had been biting off the skin of his lips. He did that absentmindedly as his thoughts took him to a dark path.

"Thanks," he muttered.

The tissue broke in his lip and stuck to the slit in his lower lip but he didn't seem to notice. That made you smile softly and reach for him to remove the bit of tissue from his broken lip with your fingers.

"Here," you whispered, and noticed Seungcheol's big dark eyes lost on your face.

He had been doing this for weeks now. Losing focus every now and then, he'd lose sleep and forget things. He did these things whenever he needed to say something but didn't know just how to get there, he always needed some prompting from you.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to initiate this time.

It was almost a month ago that you told him the news about the offer for you to study abroad. And about the offer your parents had made. You declined your mom's offer, but ever since then, Seungcheol had been acting off.

Your hand rested on his cheek, and he closed his eyes briefly to kiss your palm with his bloody lip.

"I love you," he mouthed, almost as if he couldn't bring his voice to enact itself.

"I love you too, babe," you replied, seeing his face contorted in pain and frustration was eating you up on the inside.

You had taken a job as a teacher's assistant at a school near Seungcheol's apartment. It was so near that you always visited his apartment after you were done with your shift.

So you practically lived with him in his one bedroom apartment. You had a bunch of clothes stored in the closet of his bedroom, a toothbrush, the books piling up in a corner were yours too. You occupied a large chunk of the desk with your computer, piles of papers from your job and pink headset sitting next to his.

The reason why you had taken up the teaching job was to start making some money for yourself, and possibly to make Seungcheol see that you could manage without the help from your parents, maybe then he'd ask you to move in with him.

Why hasn't Seungcheol just asked to move in with him? You hadn't asked him, but it would probably have something to do with your parents.

You knew he felt a certain kind of insecurity when it came to the lavish lifestyle your parents raised you with. But you couldn't care less in reality. You had him, that was all you needed.

So now your focus was that, your job and Seungcheol. You tried to forget about your MA acceptance letters. When you got the final letter of acceptance from all the applications you made, you were aware that you had a limited timespan to return one letter in agreement, but you haven't made a reply yet.

Seungcheol knew that, he was also well aware that you had only a few weeks to make your final choice and it was driving him crazy that you haven't made one.

It was like he was the one deciding on your future and he hated it.

He hated when your parents wanted to puppeteer everything in your life, they made choices for you most of the time and he hated watching that.

So now that you were choosing him over the biggest opportunity of your life, it killed him.

"Babe, stop thinking about it," you muttered, your heart palpitating hard at the mention of 'it'.

He blinked slowly and found your face, his brow furrowing slightly. "I can't."

"We have tonight," you smiled softly at him. "We can take our minds off for now, can you do that?"

He pressed your hand against his cheek briefly before grabbing it to lock your fingers with his.

"I will but only if you do something for me," he smiled slowly–a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

You knew that look. It was the look of someone desperately trying to feel something other than worry and finally coming face to face with their remedy.

You pushed your eyebrows up, and you knew what was coming. "No."

"Please baby, for me?" his eyebrows knitted and his bloody lip hung out in a cute little pout.

"I am not doing it!" you yanked your hand from his and stood from the couch of the living room of his apartment.

"Baby, you love it, every time!" he laughed as you walked off to his bedroom to get ready for the friendly reunion he was hosting that night.

"You are such a child, Cheol!" you bit back, rolling your eyes.

He was soon delivering kisses on your nape, hugging you from behind. "Please, baby. Please, you don't have to do anything, just sit."

"I'm not sitting on your face," you snorted as you sorted the clothes that you had brought to his apartment over months ago.

"Mmm baby, you didn't seem to hate it this much last time," he said, kissing the crook of your neck. "In fact, you sounded like you loved it."

"It was hard to relax," you confessed, your hands slacking on your sides when you felt his lips touch that spot on your neck. "I kept thinking that I was suffocating you."

"Angel, you know if that happens I'd die happy," he giggled. "Please? Before we go."

That was also something he'd been doing: drowning his worries with sex. So suffice to say, he's been fucking you almost everyday, at any chance he can get.

"We're late already babe," you muttered, his lips kissing your shoulder, ignoring the strap of your tank top.

"Jeonghan can manage if we're late, don't worry," he mumbled, while his hands dipped beneath your tank top, pulling it up to caress your skin at your waist.

When you made no reply, because you were too busy thinking that he'd been fucking you a lot these days, probably to quiet the voices in his head—you heard him sigh softly, and you turned your head to see him smile.

"We can do something else if you want to," he suggested in a soft tone.

"We're going to be late," you repeated but as soon as his hand slid from your waist and under your panties, you knew it was game over.

You dropped your head back on his shoulder when his fingers dipped on your sopping core. You heard him smile, and your head was now angled back so his lips found more skin on your neck he hadn't kissed.

"But you're so wet baby. You're dripping on my fingers. You planned to arrive at the party with your pussy all wet? What then?"

"I'd just wait for you to drag me to any corner where you can fuck me in," you replied, knowing that would elicit a chuckle out of him.

"Mm, but maybe I've spoiled you too much—giving you my cock whenever you want it, letting you come when you want to," his voice was low, like honey pouring onto your ear.

You shuddered against his body when his fingers circled your clit expertly. He knew you so well, knew every inch of your body, where you liked to be touched, how you liked to be fucked.

You moaned softly when he pinched your slick covered clit between his index and middle finger.

"I want you now. Do you want it baby?" he asked in a feigned sweet tone.

"I always want you to fuck me, Cheol," you whimpered, his fingers pressed on your clit and started rubbing circles on it.

"Will you be a good girl for daddy?" his other hand had already busied itself too, sliding from your waist under your tank top to find one of your already hardened nipples.

Your mouth parted a bit, feeling a bit lost on the swirls of his fingers on your swollen clit, and his other set of fingers teasing your nipples.

Seungcheol might be drowning his worries with sex. But so were you.

"Mmm yeah, I can be good," you decided.

I mean, you could be late for a bit. Han would manage.

They say hurt people hurt people. But how can you hurt each other and bring comfort at the same time?

You never saw that you were hurting, but in retrospect, it couldn't have been more obvious. And Seungcheol was hurting, too. Pushing troubles away with sex and alcohol, you brought comfort to each other to ease the pain that was looming close.

What was the purpose of this party? You didn't know exactly, and you didn't ask. But lately you've been visiting Jeonghan's apartment every at least twice a week, for a different party.

Now, what prompts Jeonghan to throw parties? You suspected that he was fully aware of Seungcheol's need for a distraction, and the reason why. So like the best friend Jeonghan was, he made a pathetic excuse to throw a party at his house.

Seungcheol introduced you to his best friend a month into your relationship. It was the first time he introduced you to one of his closest friends and he was so excited, as he said he just knew you were going to get along with his best friend.

And that you did. You met him and you instantly clicked with him. As the years went by, he turned into something close to a brother for you. He even called you his little sister in an endearing way.

"What took you so long?" Jeonghan asked as he opened the door to his apartment. "Wait. Spare me the details," he chuckled as he embraced you tightly. "Happy anniversary!"

"Anniversary? Is that what he's saying now?" you asked, and looked over your shoulder to see Seungcheol already being stolen away by his friends.

Although your fourth anniversary drew closer, you knew that Seungcheol might be putting that as an excuse now. Even if your birthday was before the anniversary, you were suspecting he wouldn't dare use it as a real excuse.

Jeonghan shrugged carelessly. "I don't fucking know anymore," he laughed, looking at your boyfriend in the distance. "It's a new excuse every week, is it?"

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think it is," you muttered, resisting the thought that it was getting serious.

Seungcheol had a desperate need to avert his worries lately, which had turned into party after party every week. But now he was just saying anything to bring his friends over to Jeonghan's.

"Listen, I wanted to be patient and wait for him to tell me what's going on but, I'm getting worried now," Jeonghan announced, sucking in a long breath as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"He's fine, Hannie," you said reluctantly. "He's going to be alright, he just needs to let it out of his system."

And by that, the way Seungcheol chose to let it out was by turning to his vices: sex, gambling, drinking.

He was usually a fun drunk. Loud, energetic, happy. He was quick to organize a party around so he wasted no time and had already sat at a table with his friends to play drinking games.

"Are you sure that this has nothing to do with you not taking the degree offer?" he asked in a soft tone as you walked to his kitchen where he was picking on his food prior to your arrival.

"Han," you whined, darting a look to your unbeknownst boyfriend. "I told you I don't want to talk about it."

Jeonghan had turned into something like your confidant as well. Almost everything that Seungcheol knew about you, Han knew as well. Almost everything.

His brow furrowed a little, and two of his lithe fingers pushed a strand of deep red hair back and tucked it behind his ear.

"Neither of you want to talk about it," he rolled his eyes with a goofy giggle. "I guess I'll just wait until none of you sorry asses can't hang on any longer."

You laughed. "I suppose so, too. We don't deserve you, Hannie," you mumbled, giving him a squeeze on his shoulder before walking to your boyfriend.

He was sitting on a foldable table in Jeonghan's living room. The table was covered in cans of coke and bottles of soju, but in the center of it was a pile of bills.

A small sigh escaped your mouth. You felt tired already and haven't been to your 'anniversary party' for more than two hours now.

Seungcheol had already downed almost two bottles of soju when he lifted his head and found you standing before him.

"Hi beautiful," he murmured with a content smile, his lazy eyes scanned you from top to bottom once and with his free hand he took yours, pulling you gently.

You understood what he wanted and moved to sit on his lap in front of his friends. His hand gripped you by the waist and continued to pay attention to the game of poker he was playing with his friends.

Your cheeks grew hot at the very public display of affection and dominance but deep down you knew that you liked it.

Four years ago when you started dating Seungcheol, you slowly got a grip of just how possessive he was and you found out that you liked it.

He'd let everyone and anyone with eyes know that you were off limits. You liked that he made hickeys on your neck and chest so whenever someone darted a look at your cleavage, they'd see the marks from him.

And with the red strapless dress you were wearing, everyone glanced your way. It didn't show a lot of cleavage but it made your tits look so good that it drove everyone's eyes to take a peak.

So when you sat on his lap in the middle of their poker game, you couldn't help but notice the glancing eyes from his friends. Seungcheol couldn't care less that people looked, that was something he knew he had no control over.

No one would dare to do something more than just look.

Your boyfriend always encouraged you to dress however you felt like. And you did, every time you felt you were dressing too revealing or too provocative he would reassure you that nothing would happen to you around him.

You wondered if his friends even knew they had taken the bait. You knew you'd create a distraction the moment you sat on his lap, your lush thighs crossed, a bored look on your face.

Poker was a game that deeply bored you. You knew how to play, and you always thought it was not a game for you. It took time, money and strategy.

By the end of the game, Seungcheol gathered the money from the center of the table, and with a chaste kiss on your mouth he patted your backside gently.

"You won, baby," he muttered in your ear, placing a soft kiss on your earlobe.

You frowned in confusion. "No, I didn't. You did," you countered.

"The game turned in my favor when you appeared," he chuckled, looking up at you with a glint in his eye. "You give me luck."

"I do? And what do I get?" you asked playfully.

He offered you the roll of bills that was still in his grasp. But then a knowing smirk appeared on his cherry lips. You could tell that his eyes were glazed, a sign he was a bit drunk.

"You know I'm not talking about money, Cheol," you quipped, playing with his soft dark hair with your fingers.

"Oh, angel. You are greedy," he laughed and slowly reached for your lips. And then he muttered: "Let's go home."

As soon as you crossed his apartment door, he was already turning you around using one hand to yank you by your arm. You yelped as your chest hit his frame, quickly being shushed by the drunk kisses that landed on your face.

You made no attempt to slow him down, his hands pushed you to the nearest surface he could lay your body in. Your back hit the soft cushions of the small couch as you scooted your body across it with a squeal in pure excitement.

Seungcheol pulled your dress down by the hem of the chest area, yanking it down made it tear open a bit and the smile that appeared on his face made you think that he'd been wanting to do that all night.

He pulled back with a pleased sigh, his large hands taking both ends of the tear made in your dress and pulled harshly. Another yelp came out from you when Seungcheol tore the fabric on your chest in two.

"Babe! That's the second dress that you destroy," you tried to chastise him, but you couldn't help but smile. You kind of liked to see him so needy for you that he had to tear the clothes off of you.

But being so that your strapless dress was padded around the chest area, your bare tits sprung out when he tore it open. His smile grew bigger as he dipped his head to lick your nipples.

He didn't give you a reply, he just placed open mouthed kisses on the underside of your breast while a hand wrapped the other one and gave it a squeeze, making you squirm and moan when he started sucking your nipple.

Your hands searched the hem of his black t-shirt, pinching at the fabric to pull it over. He didn't resist, being a bit drunk made him forget about staying in the domspace for a bit so he pulled back and with one movement of his arms he got rid of his t-shirt, scrunching it into a ball and chucking it across the room.

"You're so hot," you sighed, letting out a chuckle at seeing your drunk boyfriend on his knees and between your legs.

The corner of his mouth stretched a bit into a grin. "You are too, angel. So fucking hot," he bent down to kiss you, two fingers grabbing your chin as his tongue dragged across your lip, then he paused. "Everyone looked at my baby tonight, I bet they wondered what was under that little dress."

You chuckled, returning the soft drunken kisses he planted on your lips.

"But only I get to look, right baby? Only I get to kiss you," he muttered, and to make his point across he trapped your lower lip to suck on it, and then he whispered: "Only I get to fuck you."

"Yes, daddy," you smiled, watching him continue to practically make out with your tits. You let out a small moan when he turned to suck your nipples again. "I'm all yours."

He stopped and smiled, lifting his head to give you a sly look. "That's right, angel. You're mine," he muttered, his hands gathering the sides of the torn dress to break the bit that was still sown together, tearing it completely.

He got rid of your red thong quickly and threw it over his shoulder where you couldn't see them anymore. At least he didn't destroy them this time.

"You will always be mine," he muttered with a fond look in his eye as he dipped his head between your legs, holding one of your legs over his shoulder and the other in his hand, angling it open for him.

He ran his tongue all over your cunt, making you scream in pleasure and grab his head with your hands. The strands of his brown hair tangled in your fingers.

Whenever he got tipsy, he would do this. He'd eat you out until he got drunk in your sweet juices instead. So he would run his tongue across your wet folds and your pussy lips, dipping his tongue on your entrance to get a taste of you, humming, moaning with you.

"Fuck, daddy!" you cried out, squirming involuntarily under his body. You arched your back, trying with everything you had not to push your hips against his mouth.

But you just couldn't help it. You swayed your hips forward ever so slightly, your pelvic bone bumping his forehead a bit.

"Behave," he warned, throwing you a look before darting the tip of his tongue around your clit.

You sucked in a breath, feeling the pointed tip of his tongue start to flick your clit expertly, knowing that would throw you over your climax soon.

"I'm–f-fuck," you stuttered, your body already twitching. "Daddy, I'm close. Let me come, please?"

You heard him lick his lips and you glanced down to see him. "You can come all over my mouth, baby," he granted before dipping his head to tease your clit some more with his tongue.

None of you cared how loud you were. Seungcheol loved the lewd sounds he got out of you, especially when all he did was make out with your pussy. You felt your walls clench erratically as you came on his mouth, your fingers clenching around the strands of his dark brown hair.

You blinked at him as he rose from the couch, undoing his belt with one hand and you sat up to get the button of his jeans and zipper with hasty fingers.

A hand came up to cup your chin, his fingers grazing your skin softly, commanding your eyes to his. Your heart twisted when you saw his adoring eyes looking at you as you got him out of his jeans and boxers.

He had been doing that lately. His eyes would briefly linger on yours during moments of intimacy. It made your heart ache as if clenched in a tight fist.

Seungcheol undid the strap of his wrist watch and let it drop to the pile of clothes on the floor. He sat on the couch as you moved to straddle him.

The following movements were precise, too familiar. You knew each other so well that there was no need for pause. So you simply angled his cock for you to sink yourself into it with a blissful moan and started riding him slowly at first.

You looked down at his eyes.

Seungcheol got caught up on the features of your face again, almost as if committing himself to memorize every expression, the way your eyebrows knit together, the way your mouth parts, the glint in your eye when your gazes connect.

"You're beautiful," Seungcheol whispered.

A sharp feeling in your chest robbed you of words, swallowing hard you dipped your head to kiss him softly.

Your hands grabbed at his wrists when he started kneading at your thighs, caressing the curve of your waist as you rolled your hips on his cock.

He loved the sight of you, the steady sway of your hips on his cock, your tits bouncing on his face, getting tired and more aroused by the second, the sweet moans you made for him.

"So perfect," you heard him whisper.

You swallowed back a moan when you felt his hot mouth on the swell of your breasts, then suckling at your nipple and teasing the other with his fingers.

"Daddy," you mewled, fingers sinking on his soft hair. "Fuck, that feels good."

His free hand caressed your back and secured a spot on your butt, cupping your flesh gently as you seemed to be getting tired, your breath had hitched and he could see that you were almost about to tap out.

"Do you want daddy to help you come, baby?" he asked with a sweet smile on his face.

"Yeah," you breathed and bit your lip in anticipation.

Seungcheol repositioned your body so your back was now pressed down the couch, your knees hoisted up his shoulders as he sheathed his cock inside you with a moan from both parts, and he immediately started slamming his hips against you.

Soon the tiny living room would flood with the sound of your lewd gasps and the slapping of his skin against yours as he fucked you into his couch. He knew your body so well that it didn't take him long to find the sweet spot inside you that drove you a little mad.

"God, daddy! So deep," you groaned through gritted teeth.

His eyes were lost on you, he knitted his eyebrows when you did as you moaned sweetly, pleading for him to not stop, your teary eyes glazing over his face as you neared your sweet, sweet release.

"Daddy, I'm cumming," you whimpered with a high-keen moan. "Fuck-k, daddy!"

Your eyes spilled some tears when you screwed them shut, sucking in a breath and your walls tightened around him. Seungcheol came so mind-numbingly hard that he groaned loudly, fucking his cum deep into you, his eyes still lost on your face.

Mind spinning, he eased your legs down from his shoulders to press his chest against yours as he attempted to regain focus. He felt your heart beating against his, your soft breaths, his cock still wedged inside your fluttering walls.

He didn't lower his full weight on you, but he knew that if he didn't recover soon, he would fall asleep on top of you.

When you felt like he might be falling asleep, you tried to budge under him. "Let's go to bed," you muttered softly.

He hummed. "Shower first, baby. Y'know the rules."

He peeled away from your body and stood up from the couch, promptly hooking his arms beneath your body and lifting you up.

You let out a groan in protest, but didn't complain any further because he had a point. The wet sensation making its trail down from your core was enough to make you go along with him.

He started the shower while you were in the middle of the bathroom, which was more cluttered with your stuff than his.

"Come on," he muttered lazily as he extended a hand to you, stepping on the shower with him.

He cupped his hands to gather water and he poured it on your shoulders. "Is it too hot?"

You shook your head and he proceeded to clean your body.

Seungcheol looked focused as he gently covered you in soap. You practically beamed at him, no matter how many times he did this, you always found it endearing whenever he washed your hair and body because he did it with a lot of care.

"You're okay?" he asked, taking one of your hands to rub your arm with soap.

"I'm fine, Cheol," you cooed and lifted your other hand for him to repeat the same process.

He hummed and nodded with his head briefly, his eyes inspecting your whole body as he covered every inch in soap.

"Turn around for me, baby," he instructed and you turned your back on him, the gentle stream of warm water landing on your face as he washed your back.

His wet dark hair was sticking to his forehead as the gentle stream from the showerhead above you warmed your body. He hugged you from behind and pressed his lips against your cheek.

"I love you so much," he whispered, pressing his lips repeatedly on yours. "Go to bed. I'll be there in five."

"I love you too, babe," you muttered before stepping out of the shower to dry your whole body with a towel and prepared for bed.

You practically slumped on the bed, where you had a designated side, marked by the small pile of books on one of the nightstands.

Five minutes later, you felt the bed sink behind your body on the weight of Seungcheol's body. He quickly grabbed your body in his arms and hugged you tightly, pressing kisses on your naked shoulder.

You thanked the warmth emanating from his body as he cuddled you beneath the bedsheets and bed covers.

A moment of silence happened between you. It should've been normal, but something in you sensed that Seungcheol was trying to get something out of his chest as his lips pressed long kisses on your skin.

"Love? Are you asleep already?" he muttered softly.

You turned beneath the bed sheets to face him.

His eyes wandered from yours, and into the distance behind your back. His brow furrowed ever so slightly and you saw how he choked on his own words before he could even utter a single one.

"Let's sleep, okay?," you suggested, your heart dropping at the sight of him being so troubled.

He nodded, blinking sleepily at you.

You smiled and cupped his cheek with one hand, which made his brow relax and his hand came up to yours, pressing his cheek against your hand.

"I love you," he whispered.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing below your pillow.

You had but one message from your mother, detailing that her and your father were just coming back from their trip overseas and that they had just sent a driver to come pick you up because they were eager to see you.

You huffed. That was pretty much an euphemism for: 'We know you haven't been home since we left and we're not happy about it.'

That was pretty much like a routine for you, so you left your phone aside, just as a heavy arm circled your frame and pulled you closer to his.

"It'll be my birthday soon," you pointed with a small voice. "I'm turning twenty-four."

"I know, baby," he replied with a small frown, trying to egg you to get to your point.

"Maybe... I think it would be nice for us to start planning to get together–," you took a deep breath. "I wanna move in, with you."

Seungcheol allowed your words to sink in for a moment, not just for him but for you too, as if giving you a chance to elaborate.

"Would you like that?" you asked, shifting slightly on the pillow. "I mean, I practically live here already. And I'm making money, I'm sure we can manage..."

You could see the gears in his brain turning, his dark eyes reading your face over and over. His silence was unsettling and as the seconds went by, you started to feel nervous.

"What about your graduate acceptance?" he finally asked, his voice sounded almost like a croak, and you weren't sure if it was the raw emotion of finally touching the subject or the fact that you both had just woken up.

You shrugged slightly. "What about it?" your voice quivered slightly. "I can try next year, it's no big deal."

"No big deal, really?" he repeated slowly. "Baby, what are you even saying?"

"I can try again next year, maybe they'll give me the funding for the research next time," you fretted slightly beneath the sheets, an instant giveaway that you weren't sure of your own words.

"Why are you doing this?" he blurted, and the words sounded as if he wanted to ask for a whole month.

"Do what?" you frowned slightly.

"You're turning down this opportunity, your dream opportunity, why?" he asked.

"I just think that it might not be the best moment for me to take it," you mumbled, again, that tinge of uncertainty lacing your words.

"What?" he cringed. "You're joking, right?"

You paused, unable to give him a reply. Not because you didn't want to, but you didn't know what to say.

When you didn't say anything at all, Seungcheol sat up on the bed with a sigh. He rubbed his face and then brushed his hair through his fingers, a clear sign that he was getting heated.

"Cheol," you started, trying to get him to look at you. "If I go away right now, we're losing time together and I don't want that."

"You're telling me that you're turning down a once in a lifetime opportunity for us?" he asked, and you saw him shake his head slightly, but he was still not looking at you. "Can't we do long distance? Can't we take it up when you get back?"

The questions he was asking were honest and valid. But in your perspective, it was time lost.

"In a year and a half?" you pressed. "And you know we won't be able to do long distance, it will be nearly impossible."

"It will be better than you missing out on the opportunity to build and achieve your goals," he countered sternly. "I can't believe you're turning this down."

At that, he rose from the bed, throwing the duvet and sheets aside and opened his drawer to fish out his underwear and put it on silently as your mind reeled.

You sat up on the bed as he slid a pair of black sweatpants and turned to your direction.

"Say something," he urged.

"What do you want me to say, Cheol?" you started and shrugged again. "I've made up my mind. Why can't you just accept that?"

You rose from the bed too and copied his actions by finding your underwear and putting it on silently.

"I just want what's best for you," he said, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"At the cost of what we have?" you asked, knowing that you were threading on a dangerous path.

"Why does it have to be that way?" he asked, and you could sense the desperation in him just by hearing his voice. "Baby, this is your future and you're putting it on the line, for what?"

"For you, Seungcheol! For us!" you turned, your voice rang hoarse. You knew that it was wrong to raise your voice, it wasn't needed.

But you were in pain.

And he knew that.

"I don't want this," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"You don't want me?" you asked, your chest had started to heave in remorse and tears welled in your eyes.

He rolled his eyes in utter annoyance. "I want you to choose what's best for you and maybe right now the best for you is to follow your dream."

"What if what I want is to be with you?" you asked despite the feeling that maybe you were stepping on a line. "What if I tell you that I want to start a life with you?"

He ran his hands over his hair and his eyes rolled back again, but this time he just looked straight at the ceiling. "Since we know each other you wanted this," he shook his head slightly. "I can't believe that you just changed your mind in the span of a couple of weeks."

"But what if I have?" you sniffed loudly as tears ran down your cheeks. "What if I choose you? You don't want that?"

"I want you to choose yourself for the first fucking time in your life!" his words hung in the air between you two, but as soon as he uttered them, he looked like he wanted to take them back immediately.

But it was too late.

He was right.

But you couldn't give him that, you just couldn't see it at that moment.

He was right, but so were you.

You stood there, frozen. Feeling like an idiot. For four fucking years, all you did was choose him over everything. Half of your life was in that apartment; your wishes to move in with him and finally start your life far away from your family.

But now, you felt pushed away.

Seungcheol looked scared for a second, his mouth agape and widened eyes, as if waiting for your next move.

"Baby, I'm-,"

"I'm leaving," you declared, scrambling to get your clothes from your drawer in his bedroom. Hot tears blurred your vision as you tried your best to dress up quickly.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, just-"

"No, Seungcheol. Don't baby me."

"We need to have this talk," he insisted, chasing you all over the bedroom as you dressed up.

"There is nothing to talk about. I'm done. I'm taking my mom's offer."

"What? Just like that? I say one wrong thing and that's it?" he asked, his voice strung in pain and confusion.

This can't be happening, he thought over and over.

You scrambled desperately for your pants, anything to put on.

"No, you're right," you told him. "You're always right. I should choose myself. I am so fucking dumb for thinking I was doing the right thing by choosing you."

You didn't dare to look at his face, but you knew that it hurt. It hurt saying it and Seungcheol stopped chasing you in his room as you found a top to put on.

"Don't do this," he said as he tried to take your arm, which you yanked from his grip.

"Do what?!" you snapped, finally looking at his face as you finished dressing up. "Do what, Seungcheol? You are leaving me with no choice. So, do what, exactly?"

Your voice rang with rage and despair. And when you faced him, you probably conveyed those emotions in your eyes because Seungcheol's expression just broke.

"This! Not talking it out, trying to hurt me," he gritted. "We need to talk about this. Or else, you're going to leave to another fucking continent and where does that leave us, me?"

Your steps were determined as you walked away from him, creating a physical and emotional distance between the two of you. He stood there, a mixture of frustration and despair written on his face.

"I can't tell you that, Seungcheol," you uttered through a broken voice. "That's something you'll have to sort out alone."

His eyes narrowed and tilted his head to the side just slightly, shoulders slumping down in defeat.

"What are you saying?" he asked, his eyes searching your face frantically and in sheer disbelief.

"Maybe we're not ready for this, Seungcheol," you told him despite the crippling pain in your heart. "Maybe I need to figure things out by myself."

This was happening. Despite all Seungcheol's planning, scheming, despite all his love, you chose this. You chose yourself.

So he had to make his choice.

"So this is it?" he asked, his eyes dead.

Your head nodded, chest heaving. "This is it."

The silence between you grew heavy, so heavy that Seungcheol felt nearing a breaking point.

"I never thought we would end like this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Neither did I," you replied.

A broken sigh fell from his lips, choking up from the sheer pain invading his chest. "Is this what you truly want?"

"It is," you whispered.

You watched him swallow hard and then he nodded, balling his hands into fists, gritting his teeth as he accepted your choice, thus finalizing his.

Everything inside him screamed in pain, pleading with him to fight harder, to make you see what he saw but he just nodded.

He was letting you go.

The reality was, you and Seungcheol had given up.

It didn't feel real. The air was almost sickening, it made you dizzy.

With a last look, you walked away, leaving behind a piece of your heart and the remains of your first love, your first everything.

You left his apartment, slamming the door on your way out, tears blurring your vision as you hurried down the stairs. Your head was buzzing, and your chest hurt so much that you never noticed that Seungcheol changed his mind and followed you out the building.

But as soon as he saw you get in a black car, tinted windows and drove away, he knew he had lost you, you were gone.

And that you were, for two years.

✧ a/n: hiiiii ᨐฅ

i cried while writing this, and that's a first for me.

i hope this flashback chapter wasn't confusing haha. if it was, feel free to comment or send me an ask!

› so who do you think was in the wrong/right here? reader or seungcheol? i wanna know your opinions ‹(•⩊•)› i'd say they were both dumb and thought themselves to be undeserving of each other and threw it all away at the slightest bit of conflict haha

once again, this was loosely proofread, am sorry

if you liked reading this, please let me know? i'd appreciate a comment, reblog, like or even an ask! my ask box is always open and i love to know your thoughts on anything ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა

↣ i want to dedicate this chapter to @cvntrlseecvntrlvee, who kept the seungcheol brain rot alive and kicking, 💟

✧ READ PART 4 ✧ | JOIN MY TAGLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

toodles

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[tomriddleslove]

The devil can be beautiful.

✩Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader (Part 1)

SLOWBURN SERIES

Summary: The one where you have it all planned. There’s not a single thing you haven’t sorted, you’re practically untouchable in how perfect you are. He wants to destroy you, and he always gets what he wants. Alternatively: A bet is placed on whether Mattheo can ruin you. It’s not as easy as he thinks.

A/N: Imo a bit more accurate Mattheo here? He’s fucking toxic and they’re all horrible. This is a series!

Nietzche famously rejected connotations of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. They were nought but social constructs - ways to enforce power and authority under arbitrary values. Rather, he believed ‘good’ was relative, as was ‘bad’. If an action or doing promoted life, or power, then it was ‘good’. If an action promoted weakness, and conformity, then it was ‘bad’.

You weren’t religious, but you prayed to the heavens above that Nietzche was right because fuck.

Wrong has never felt so right.

‘Pl- plea-” You gasp, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you tilt your head back. His lips attach to the tender skin of your neck, nipping and biting at the delicate skin with no regard. He was ravenous, and you tasted like ambrosia, something too sweet for him. You had never felt so alive, feeling as though you were numb yet also like every nerve end was on fire.

Ravenous lips meet pure, untouched flesh. Iconoclastic in nature, the idea of corrupting such a sweet thing was enough to send the boy into a haze.

What was the saying? A wolf in sheep's clothing? Someone who seemed so unlikely, so deceptive. You couldn’t even fall back on that as an excuse. No, Mattheo Riddle was the devil himself, presenting himself to you with red horns and a fucking pitchfork in his hand and you stupidly let him sink his fangs into you.

He was beyond tainting you, no.

Mattheo Riddle was destroying you, and you could only let him.

- • -

Proper and prim.

If you had asked anyone to describe you in two words, you were sure those were the ones they would choose.

Proper and prim.

You were near perfect. Hell, if perfection existed you would be the image of it. From your neatly ironed robe to your polished shoes. Not a single thing was out of place. You embodied routine, and order.

Hair brushed back into a simple plait. School uniform modest, your tie neatly tucked underneath your grey school jumper. You had not produced a single piece of work that scored below 100%, from apparition to flying, you simply never did bad.

“Merlin, it must be depressing,” Theodore murmurs as he watches you walk through the Slytherin common room, up to the girls' dorms.

“Who?” Blaise quips as Pansy rolls her eyes, the distaste evident in her voice as she speaks.

“Who else but her? Miss Prissy Goody-Two shoes.” Pansy drawls, redirecting the group's attention to your retreating form.

Theodore reaches into his pocket, rolling a cigarette between two fingers as he speaks.“Did you know she scored 100% on all her OWLS?”

“Of fuking course she did. All she does is bury her nose in books. No wonder she’s always alone.” Draco mocks and Lorenzo snorts.

“She’s a bit of a weirdo” Lorenzo comments and Theodore barges in, a sleazy grin on his face as he raises a brow.

“You know what they say about the quiet ones right? Always the freakiest.”

Pansy dissolves into laughter, clutching her stomach as she speaks through giggles.

“Her? She’s an absolute prude! You should have seen her when she had to work with Pucey during potions. She couldn't even look in his direction. It's pathetic if you ask me.” She taunts.

Mattheo stares off into the fireplace, legs spread lazily as he reclines back onto the sofa. He had no interest in this conversation, really. Not for the reasons one would think, though. It’s not that he secretly cared for you or something, no it was far from that. He agreed that you were rather weird, too perfect and normal to be likeable. Rather he didn't have the energy to engage in such trivial matters.

“You should go ask her out on a date or something Theo. Don’t you like the nerdy girls?” Lorenzo teases as Theodore scoffs, propping his feet up on the table in front of him.

“Absolutely not, She’ll probably perform some kind of fucking blood curse on me.” He mutters as Draco raises a brow.

“How about this? If you manage to fuck her, I’ll give you 100 Galleons.” He proposes. Lorenzo nearly spits out his water as Pansy shakes her head.

Mattheo snaps out of his daze, looking up at Draco with mild curiosity.

“100 Galleons? Are you fucking insane?” Lorenzo blurts, looking at the platinum-haired boy in disbelief.

“Oh come on. It's a guaranteed win for Draco. It’s near impossible for anyone to do that.” Pansy adds.

“I’ll do it.”

It's his first contribution to the conversation and they all turn to look at him. Theodore raises a brow, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as Pansy leans forward.

“Oh? And what makes you think you can?” She taunts.

“Look at her. Teacher’s pet, an absolute loner. Always reading. It’s so predictable. She probably has wet dreams about some bad boy coming to sweep her off her feet. It’s almost too easy.” He says, cracking his neck with a small groan as he sits up.

He could really do with the money. 100 Galleons could buy him at least 3 weeks in the shabby little inn he frequented over the school holidays.

Draco eyed him curiously, before extending his slim pale hand out.

“Agreed. 100 galleons if you manage to fuck her within a month.” Draco repeats, and Mattheo takes the offer.

His calloused palms meet Draco’s, and he shakes on it with a resolute nod, before leaning back in his chair.

1 month? What a joke. He only needed 2 weeks.

-•-

It had been two days after that conversation and Mattheo had been observing you closely, waiting for the right opportunity to crop up. In the meantime, he dissects everything about you. Theodore was right, you were so undeniably boring and monotonous Mattheo had to pause and wonder if you were a sadist of sorts, finding pleasure in such mind-numbing perfection.

It was the same damned thing every single day. You would turn up for breakfast at 8:00, and fix yourself a plate of porridge topped with a handful of blueberries. You’d eat as you read the newspaper, and finish by 8:15. You’d rise, put your bowl away, and head to your first class. You ate lunch during the first half, the same sandwich and apple every day. After lessons, you’d go up to the library. You’d take the furthest seat on the second floor, between the muggle studies and world history books. You would revise for 3 hours, close your books, and head back up to your dorm. You would then re-emerge no longer than 20 minutes later (still dressed in your school uniform) and head down to dinner. You always ate whatever was offered, had a single mug of peppermint tea, and then headed back up to your dorm before it was even 10.

Every. Single. Day.

Mattheo could not comprehend how on earth someone could live like that. Surely you had to be some sort of psychopath, right? There was no way you could find peace and comfort in such a routine. Sure, Mattheo certainly did not feel content, but he’s as sure as the sky is blue that he’d go insane if he lived like you.

Maybe you had some sort of secret? Perhaps you escaped the castle grounds at night to smoke or do some hardcore drugs. Maybe you were some sort of recluse who believed they were some sort of divine being. Your meticulously structured routine, your unwavering discipline—it all seemed too calculated, too perfect. There had to be something lurking beneath the surface, something that explained your seemingly robotic adherence to the same monotonous pattern day after day.

The countless possibilities run through Mattheos mind as he rests his chin on his hand, zoned out as he sits at the back of the astronomy class. Professor Sinastra drones on about Lunar phases and their implications on a wizard’s abilities. Mattheo gazes off at you, who (as per usual) sits right at the front of the class. Your posture is impeccably straight, and you jot down every word Sinastra speaks as though she’s teaching the class how to become a millionaire instantly.

“... And for that reason, I would like two volunteers to come work alongside myself on a month-long project locating rogue planets in the atmosphere. Not only will this be an exciting and unique opportunity, it’ll also put you in incredibly good standing for your upcoming NEWT exams, which may I remind you are in only a few months. The study will largely commence in the evenings, however, there will be a few instances where you will be required to complete monitoring throughout the whole day. You will be excused from lessons on those days, rest assured.” She says.

Mattheo straightens up in his chair as he sees your hand shoot up almost immediately. In any other instance, your enthusiasm would be infuriating at the very least, earning you a snarky remark. But now? Well, it was clear the universe was giving him a sign.

Taking advantage of everyone else's hesitancy, Mattheo raises his hand. A few murmurs ripple through the class, and Professor Sinastra cannot hide her surprise as she nods at Mattheo.

“I must say, I am glad to see you volunteering Mr Riddle.” She says, and Mattheo nods.

He can’t make it too obvious, though. He usually wouldn't be caught dead volunteering for such a thing.

“Getting to skip classes and being permitted to roam around at night? No brainer.” He says, not so subtly to Blaise. Granted, Blaise knows Mattheo’s true intentions, but the statement seems to satisfy the rest of their class, who turn back to their work whilst muttering about how it was a rather good offer.

Mattheo looks over to you, only to find you turned around in your seat, observing him for a second. Your eyes squint, an almost imperceptible change, before you quickly avert your gaze and turn back around.

“You might actually have this one.” Blaise murmurs, leaning closer to Mattheo. He can’t help but smile, an almost arrogant smirk, as he nods.

Looking at the way you diligently return to your work, Mattheo’s indifference suddenly morphs into determination.

This was too easy.

-•-

Mattheo saunters up the stairs to the astronomy tower, the faint moonlight just barely illuminating the path in front of him. As he pushes open the door to the tower, he sees you perched by the telescope. You're still in your school uniform, looking pristine as you sit on the floor, scribbling notes down in your book. You look up at the intrusion, clearing your throat when you see Mattheo. In the dim moonlight, Mattheo can see your face turn slightly red as you swiftly avert your gaze down to the floor.

“Riddle.” You greet, quietly. He hums in acknowledgement, setting his bag down to the side as he slumps against the wall, leaning back.

“Professor um- Professor Sinastra has asked us to just observe the sky and try to make predictions for when we can sight a rogue planet. I’m mapping the movement of the planets but she said you should try to calculate angles of visibility.” You murmur, voice quiet and hesitant.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as he looks over at you. "Angles of visibility, huh?" he muses, pushing himself off the wall and saunters over to where you're seated. "Sounds like a job for someone with a keen eye for detail."

You glance up at him, your expression guarded as you nod in agreement. "Yes, exactly. It's crucial to accurately calculate the angles to ensure our observations are precise."

He laughs, but it's not genuine. No, rather it's almost mocking.

“What makes you think I’m doing any of that, hmm? This is just an excuse for me to skip classes. How this is actually going to work, is that you’re going to do all the work, and let me slap my name on the parts I was meant to do, yeah?” he says, his tone oozing with faux sincerity.

You look up at him, a glimpse of surprise flashing in your eyes.

There we go. Wasn’t so hard to get a reaction out of you, wasn’t it? Mattheo thinks to himself, raising a brow. This would be simple enough. You’d fight back, and after a bit, he’d reluctantly agree. He’d begin to feign actual interest and before you knew it he’d be walking away with 100 galleons added to his name.

But instead of fighting, you nod and look back down at your book.

“Ok.” You murmur.

Mattheo's smirk falters for just a moment as he processes your response. He hadn't expected you to simply agree, to comply without so much as a hint of resistance. It throws him off balance, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“What? You’re not going to disagree? Or go snake on me to Professor Sinastra?” His voice comes out more incredulous than he intended, a mixture of surprise and confusion evident in his tone.

You glance up at him, your expression unreadable. "It's not like I have much of a choice, do I?" you reply calmly, your voice devoid of any trace of emotion.

Mattheo's mind races, trying to make sense of your reaction. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to push back, to challenge him, to give him something to work with. But instead, you're just... accepting it.

A flicker of annoyance flares within him, quickly followed by a surge of frustration. This wasn't what he had planned, wasn't how it was supposed to play out. He wanted a challenge, not this... this acquiescence.

He eyes you with a small frown, before turning on his heel and walking out. He’s both frustrated and confused, pondering your words as he makes his way back to the Slytherin common room. Were you really that pathetic? Did you actually have no backbone?

He walks back into the relatively empty common room, spotting the whole group in their usual spot. He goes over to them, tossing his bag to the side as he plops down onto the sofa with a sigh. Pansy eyes him with amusement as she speaks.

“So how was your first evening with our perfect student? Did you woo her under the stars?” Pansy teases as Mattheo fishes around in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Serenade her with a poem?”Theodore joins in, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Merlin, I knew she was a stick-up but to be that much of a push-over? She’s so mind-numbingly fucking boring it's actually insane.” Mattheo starts, lighting the cigarette as he takes a deep drag.

“I mean, I told her that she had to do all the work and give me the credit, and she just said ok! No fighting back, not even a look of annoyance. She just looked down and said Ok,” He exclaims, still rather baffled as he smokes his cigarette.

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sly smirk. "Well, isn't that just precious," he taunts, the hint of mockery in his tone unmistakable. "Our little goody-two-shoes just rolling over and playing dead at the first sign of trouble."

Mattheo scowls, taking another drag from his cigarette as he mulls over their words. It's frustrating, infuriating even, to think that you would just acquiesce without so much as a fight. He had been expecting resistance but instead, he's met with nothing but compliance, and it grates on his nerves in a way he can't quite explain.

"Well, whatever," Mattheo mutters, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he leans back against the sofa.

Just as he goes to speak, his eyes are drawn to the entrance of the common room. The group falls silent at your arrival. You walk through the common room, not even glancing in their direction as you clutch your school bag tightly, heading back up to your dorm.

‘Like you have your tail between your legs’ Mattheo thinks, observing your retreating form.

“Maybe it turned her on?” Theodore proposes. Draco groans, setting down his mug as he rolls his eyes.

“That's disgusting. I do not need to be thinking about that,” He complains.

“You’re the weirdo who proposed the bet anyway!” Theodore quips back, and they soon fall into a silly argument.

It’s all background noise for Mattheo, who can't seem to stop thinking about you. There was no chance you were simply so easily swayed, so complacent. No, there had to be more to it.

Mattheo was a Slytherin through and through. Cunning, resourceful, and ambitious. And if he wanted something, he would always get it. Mattheo would win this bet, and if not for the 100 galleons, it would be to unravel and destroy you, for he saw in your innocence a challenge — a spotless canvas begging for the brushstrokes of corruption, a pure soul ripe for the taint of himself. Even the most virtuous are not spared, and in his eyes, your fall would be his ultimate triumph.

@schaebickel @multifandom-worlds @mildlyuninformative @lillywildly @gillyweeds @anti-hero03

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey love! if you're still accepting requests, could I get an extremely wild, rough and feral nsfw Daemon x wife fem!reader please? (feel free to ignore and sorry if the request is weird, but I'm thirsty for this handsome fictional man who unfortunately doesn't exist)

Frost Bite

Daemon Targayen x Stark!Reader

Summary: You were travelling back to home soil in anticipation of your wolf's heat cycle. Besides the fact that you could not stand the sound of your prince husband's breathing and the fact you were certain he would perish in the cold, there was one more reason why you did not want him to join you: the fact the heat was affecting you too.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Basically PWP, 5k+ SMUT T_T (non-con [daemon touches her while she's asleep], virgin!reader, she cries for various reasons, fingering, choking, biting, degradation kink, corruption kink, spitting, marking, edging, oral [fem receiving], breeding kink, cream pie), RIP feminism, opens with a wet dream, brief mentions of near death experience in a snow storm, dark!daemon (but imo its just canon daemon) fem!reader, wife!Reader, soft!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: YEAH MINORS DNI. LOL SO I was planning to write this for my part 2 of my Stark!Reader, but i got lazy and didn't want to create a whole plot leading up to the smut, so i removed it all together, which I guess worked out swell for you nonnie, since I was planning something absolutely unhinged. I hope you liked that fic of mine since you're basically getting a p3 of it So here's part 1, here's part 2, but you don't need to read any of them to understand, but i suggest you do for background cos lol this is PWP T_T Next part ig but its a blurb "✨Magic✨" OMG NEXT PART BUT ITS NOT A BLURB "Moon Cycle" Also nonnie, i wanted to tell you albeit asking for smut is pretty awkward HAHAHAH you gotta process these feelings somehow you know. i mean, we could have been criminals, like Daemon, instead but we're not, and that's what matters (unless you are a criminal in which case im closing my eyes) this gif of him is so large on pc but idc he's so hot MATT I WANT YOU SO BAD FUCK OFF if someone snitches to big brother again like in In Your Defense /: Idk if you want to be, but I'm tagging everyone I tagged in the previous fic, as well as the others that commented there SO HI THIS IS SMUT YOU CAN GO IF YOU WANT LOL HAHHAH @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog

I caught him. I caught him doing the very thing I dreaded to catch him do. The one thing I accused him of doing every night, though in my heart of hearts I wished he did not... not that I would ever admit it to his face. Because why would I? Admitting it would mean- "You want me," Daemon heaved against the neck of the woman beneath him. He cranes his neck up as he thrust into her, smirking, eyes dark, "you want this to be you," he pants as he stares at me, "don't you?" I am in my place, frozen, watching and hearing the woman come undone underneath my husband who kisses her tenderly. "Daemon," I whimper helplessly, teary eyed, "Daemon please." "Fuck off."

I jolt awake, sweat sheening my neck and chest. I turn to my bed, empty, because though Daemon insisted we sleep together and I could not fight him in his decision, he did not return to me until nigh dawn.

I wipe my face as I recall my intensifying dreams.

It seems my travels up North would come quicker than anticipated.

And as much as I wanted to tell him I told you so, oh to all the gods, how badly he deserved it, there was no time for me to gloat when Daemon did the very thing I warned him not to, fall into the icy river.

It was instantaneous. The cracking of the ice, the splashing of water, the scream that escaped me. Maybe I should have left him in the cave we kept Caraxes, who he insisted on bringing. But then again he would have insisted on joining me to the cabin, the way he insisted on joining me here up North in the first place.

And now I had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

It was sheer miracle that I got him out of the river without falling into it myself, sheer stupidity of me to rid him of his coat and offer him mine when the blistering snow storm was not relenting, and quite clearly the sheer will of the gods that both of us made it to the cabin... barely.

The moment we walked in, I shut the door and scrambled towards the fireplace. As my fingers shivered, I thought of Havoc, and how at least I know she would find mine and Daemon's corpses if ever we do not make it. I had sent her away when the storm came out of nowhere because we had to find cover for Caraxes, and she would not have been any of help to us if she were here with us anyway.

My poor pup. She would be heartbroken if she saw me frozen. And Caraxes...

I curse the flint, I curse the cold, I curse the gods, and I curse Daemon for every time I failed to light a fire. I thanked the Stranger for finally allowing me the mercy of my eventual success.

Once the fire was burning steady, I get on my feet and run to Daemon, hauling him over to the fire roughly in haste where he helpelessly kneels in front of. He could do nothing but shiver as I scramble to get some dry clothes and sheets for the both of us.

I yank him closer to the fire and begin to undress him.

Seeing as he is nothing but docile to my actions and how his skin was turning grey, I began to grow frantic, "you cannot fucking die, you prick!"

I rip his top off and quickly clothe him, "I did not go through all the trouble of marrying you for nothing. I refuse to be forced into another marriage because your stupid ass froze to death."

Daemon's shudder comes out in a thick condensation.

"Fuck," I whimper, as I struggle to get him out of his boots and breeches.

I shrivel up at the feel of his frozen fingers then brush against my arm and I shake my head rapidly, realizing there was no choice. The only way I can warm him quickly enough is if I share my own.

I strip him naked, pulling off the shirt I struggled to put on him as well, then wrap him in a fur blanket in the meantime. I then take off my own clothes and hiss at the nipping cold.

The fact Daemon does not even look at my naked form strikes a chord in me.

I straighten him up and fix the blankets on his legs and thighs before I sit on his lap. I press my bare chest against his and whimper at his dangerously concerning coldness.

He shivers against me as his face rests helplessly on my shoulder. His breath that hits my skin is not even hot.

"Remember, you're too fucking stubborn to die," I say as I wrap my legs around his torso and graciously place his fingers beneath my bottom.

His lack of warmth literally brings tears to my eyes.

I reach out for the other blanket and wrap it over myself, consequently Daemon, before I wrap my arms around him and breathe hotly against his face.

I rub his back, "will you allow irony to take you? The hot blooded prince defeated by the cold?"

He releases a shiver and moves his head. He mutters something, but his quaking body does not allow me to make sense of it.

"Do not waste your energy," I chide.

And so for a long moment, we stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing each other's heat. I do my best to warm him. I even nuzzle against him, the way Havoc did me, just so I could warm his stupid face.

Daemon finally finds it in him to lean against my touch, and when he does, he mutters under his breath, "irony-" shudder, "-would be if the- N-Northern princ-ces-s-ss died in the cold."

My face contorts and yet I cannot help but chuckle at him, glad he can sputter his nonsense again, "then I should make Caraxes burn you for your stupidity."

I shiver when I feel his icy lips kiss my neck. Goosebumps form on my skin when I feel the hot breath that follows. My hands rake up to his nape, where I then dig my fingers as I pull away.

"N-n-nno!" he stutters, hands coming around my hips to brace me tightly, "I ss-swear I'm not warm yet-t-t."

I pull back again though to face him when I said, "I only wanted to tell you," I lean my forehead against his face, "I fucking told you so, you stupid idiot."

I rest my face on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I would not be off him any time soon.

I dream about him. I dream about kissing his shivers away. I dream about pulling the fur blanket that separated our legs away, and riding him until he was warm.

I dream about how good he feels, and how he burns inside me. I dream about calling his name, unlike how I did in my other dreams. I was no longer calling out in betrayal, I was calling out in pleasure.

Daemon.

Daemon.

"Daemon," I trail off in a groan, willing my heavy eyelids open. I feel pressure building up inside me before I understand what's happening.

I not know how, but I am laid on a bed, head on a pillow, form still naked. Daemon is sat up beside me, peering down at me and his hands.

I whine.

His fingers-

"Oh fucking hell," he groans as his other hand begins to knead at my breasts, "you feels so good wrapped around my fingers, I-"

I cut him off with my squeak, hands flying to his arm, thighs closing shut, squeezing this hand in between my thighs.

"Daemon," the dazed quality of my voice is gone.

He tilts his head, face twisting, a challenge.

When I struggle and wrangle against him, all it takes is his hand on my throat to make me go still. I barely manage a choke and my breath continues to leave me as his fingers quicken their pace inside me.

He only releases me after I shake and shudder when I come.

It is overwhelming and nothing at all like I have dreamed or imagined, unlike all the times I've touched myself in secret. It was intense but there was a shame tied to it.

My entire body is hot and tears prick my eyes at his relentless ministrations.

"You were too fucking ready for that," Daemon mutters dryly as he quickly pulls away and shifts in his spot, "how long have you imagined fucking me, hmm?"

Before I even have the brain to do something, he crawls down the bed, "was it when you caught me touching myself to you?" He sinks down, grabbing my legs, "or have you done it before and withheld me of your sweet cunt for no fucking reason?"

All at once, he brings his face between my legs and begins to lick all the slickness off my pulsing core.

"DAEMON!" I scream, pressing my thighs close as I push myself up on my elbows, trying to break free of him.

He ignores me and forces my legs open even as I kick them in protest, "you will not deny me something you so clearly want yourself."

He grunts and pushes my legs down before grabbing my hands that were shoving him away, "you fucking bitch," he grips me tightly, "you will not find it in yourself to fight me off once I make a whore out of you."

I growl at his words, feeling my stomach drop along with my tears because of it.

I was realizing just how strong he really was, and how in moments where our arguments got a bit physical, he has probably holding back. The revelation of this does not cease my attempts at freeing myself, but it is as pointless as I feared.

Daemon rises up from his spot, nearing me, up until he is breathing against my cheek and rubbing his hardened length against my wetness.

I turn away from him, unable to really do anything else and shudder as he speaks, "you said it yourself, you did not go through all this trouble marrying me for nothing."

I screw my eyes shut, feeling tears fall, "Daemon."

He shushes me, pulling my arms up above my head, "you should not worry. I refuse to die now that I know of your lust."

I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, "still, the idea of someone claiming you- fuck-" he groans gutturally, "had I died..." he trails of in another groan, "someone else would have gotten my prize and it would have been all be your fault."

Daemon squeezes my wrist in one hand then grabs my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. I keep my eyes shut though as he heaves hotly, "I should utterly ruin every part of you so you can never have anyone but me. Though make no mistake, I would never let that happen as I so fucking breathe."

"Hypocrite," I scoff.

He laughs and I tense at the feeling of his vibrations, "she speaks."

I dare to look at him as I pant, "you do not desire me. You're just a spoiled brat who merely wants to wet his cock, just like how you do every night."

"Oh," he groans, "is this jealousy I hear?" He squeezes my cheeks, "is my pretty whore jealous that she is not the only one?"

"Fuck you!" I manage out though muffled.

Daemon laughs at the feel of tears rushing down his fingers, "do not cry, foolish wife. I'll have you know I have not wet my cock ever since I called out your name when I fucked someone else before our wedding day."

He releases my face. I attempt to even out my breath.

"I hadn't even realized until she asked me who-"

"And you think you deserve an award for that?!" I quip through my heavy breathing.

He lets out a laugh that makes me whimper, "I think you ought to know that mine own want for you has made everyone else undesirable," he licks my cheek, making me pull my head away from him, "I have been so pent up in want and for what? Because you're too bull headed to allow me anything other than my lonely hand?"

I try to wrangle out of his grip again, and he presses his whole body on me in response, "it's quite adorable that you still have it in you act like you didn't just call my name out loud while you dreamt of fucking me."

He rubs his nose against my jaw, "you wanna know how I know?"

"Fuck off-"

"You were rutting against me like a hussy," he sighs, "by the gods, had I known you were so wanton at night, I would have never granted you the insult of sleeping alone."

I could feel myself burn hotter with each word that leaves his lips despite myself. I did not want him to catch me like this, but there was no use; I was already caught.

As Daemon rocks his hips on mine, he hisses, undoubtedly feeling how much wetter I had gotten was beneath him.

"Fuck," he trails off, "here's what going to happen," he whispers, rutting against me rougher.

I cannot for the life of me withhold my whimper.

He chuckles as he presses his face against mine, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue and then I'm going to fuck you until you cry."

"Daemon, please stop-"

"Your heartbeat against my cock and how fucking wet you are disagrees with your protest, little liar," he croons. He lifts his head, then leans his forehead against mine, "don't worry, my little virgin, you will not cry because it hurts, you will cry because you'll want it so bad that it hurts."

"Daemon-"

"You will not refuse me," he whispers, though it is anything but sweet, "not when there is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you want this too."

He brings his hands to my neck again and I wait for his grip to tighten, but it does not, "now say it."

I look up at him as my breathing quickens.

"Yield," he commands, breathing heavily all of a sudden.

I look up at him feeling my belly swirl in ways I could not ever explain.

"Admit to both our ears that you burn for me just as I have been fucking burning for you."

I yelp when he puts pressure on my throat then releases it.

"Say it," he barks.

"I-"

"Say you want me," he says softer this time.

I am disarmed by his quick change in tone and a shiver leaves me as the cold finds its way to my belly as he pulls away. Daemon releases my hands then begins to crawl down. His eyes are fixed on my as he mutters once more, "say it."

I shudder as he presses my thighs against his cheeks then whispers, almost begging, "say it."

I turn away from him and close my eyes, awaiting his next actions, for it was not like I could stop him if I refuse.

"Say it," he urges louder, "you know you want to."

I clench my jaw, "just do what you want and be done with it."

He growls, and goosebumps form on my skin when I feel him bite at the inner most part of my thigh. I grip at the sheets at the feel of teeth and tongue. I bite my lips tightly to keep myself from making any noise.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Daemon mutters.

I yelp and look down at him when his finger strokes my core.

His eyes are dark as he airily chuckles at my reaction, "after all I have given you my name, my Targaryen queen. You are no longer your own, you are forever mine."

I watch him as he lifts his head up and kisses my sopping heat. I flinch when he nips at me, drawing my nub out with his teeth. He lifts his head as he releases my flesh. His chin is glistening with my slick as he says, "I want you."

My breath leaves me when he says this.

"And I know you want me too, but I have to-- I need you to say it." He repositions himself in my thighs, "you are after all married to maniac," he breathes against me, "now, say it."

He shakes my thighs, "SAY IT!"

"I want you," I snap, "Daemon, I-" a loud cry rips out of me before I can even continue.

The sound of him lapping his tongue on me, eating me out as if I was his final meal, was somehow louder than my cries. I cannot help but so violently react to him as he devours me. He forces me still in his grip and fights off the movement of my thighs with his face.

It seems as though my admittance has reduced me into nothing but needy sounds.

Without another thought, my hands reach down at him and dig into his silver hair. I arch my back and pull at him when his tongue flicks into me.

"Fucking slut," he mutters, squeezing my thighs as he pulls me apart.

I scream out his name as he digs his face deeper into me. I lift my head up when he pulls away to laugh, "look at you, rutting against me like the needy whore you are."

I don't have time to find offence in his words because I still, not even realizing I was in fact moving my hips against him. He laughs as he continues his work, leaving me no time to feel embarrassment and only hot pleasure.

He is fucking good at what he does. He's so fucking good that my mind wanders where it should not. How much practice has he gotten to be this good? It is precisely because of this that I finally break, "all for you, Daemon," I grab his cheeks, "all for you-- all mine."

I do not see how his eyes dart up to me for I then throw my head back and whine. I feel myself come close to my undoing, "fuck, Daemon, don't stop."

I shriek when I bites me.

Just as I am inching so close, all at once, he pulls away from me.

I pant and stiffen as I hear and feel him spit on me. Much like all other moments, I do not have time to react. When I turn to him, he grabs my legs and shoves me to my side.

I begin to panic when he rises to his knees.

"I'll be fucking damned if I don't make you come on my cock right now," he grunts, making my eyes drop down to the very thing, erect, hard, and angry.

"Get on your knees, bitch," he blurts, though he doesn't give me much of a chance to as he drags me up into the position he wants me by my hips.

I haven't even propped myself up on my arms yet when he unceremoniously begins to pound into me.

I am certain if anyone could hear us in the middle of this storm, they would think I was mad, or worse, being tortured.

"I'm going to breed that prurient wolf in you, just as I'm sure your wolf, Havoc, is being bred right now."

I growl at the idea and feel my belly tighten at his words.

Daemon groans before he chuckles, "that's it, isn't it?"

His relentless thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Suddenly, he yanks me by my hair and lifts me up. His other hand slaps to my throat to offer painful support as he pulls me up against him.

I choke on my spit when my form presses against him with difficulty. He sinks down on his knees, my core wrapped around his length as he shifts me in a snug position atop him.

His hands make their way to my breasts to roughly grope them. His teeth sink down on my shoulder.

I release a wild sound as my own hands come on top of his. I am left moaning at how his mouth sinks into my skin.

Daemon makes sure to suck hard before pulling away. For a moment he catches his breath before speaking, "you did not want me here because you are affected by your wolf's heat, aren't you."

The way I begin to slowly bounce on top of him is enough of an answer to him.

He laughs as his hands depart from my tender breasts, one going down to my sensitive nub, the other sealing my throat again, "you are a fucking selfish bitch for keeping your cunt from me."

My breathing becomes arduous when he tightens his grip around me.

"You would have preferred to touch yourself to the thought of me?" he questions as he rubs on my sensitive nub.

"Daemon," I gasp, pushing my head back as his lips latch on my neck again.

He ceases the moment of his fingers as he finishes grazing on my skin. "Yes, my pretty whore?" he mutters in between his kisses, "what do you want, hmm?"

My breathing strains when his hand tightens around my throat more. I catch my breath when he releases his grip to push my hair off to the side, "tell me what you want me to do to you."

I call out his name. He calls out mine.

I find myself grabbing his hands as I moan out, "I want you to fuck me."

Without another word, I am thrown down to the bed. The only reason I'm still on him is because of his hands that latch on my hips.

I am nothing against his strength. He handles me like a ragdoll, fucking me with absolutely no regard and nothing else in mind.

I make sounds that mean nothing. His name is polluted by my whimpers and cries that you cannot make head or tail of.

I would not last any longer with how he was handling me, even if I wanted to, even if I tried.

"That's it my easy bitch," he pants, "come around me like the needy whore you are."

"Daemon-"

"Your eager cunt will take my seed well when I fill you up," his one hand leaves my hip and rips my head back by my hair again, "don't you think, pretty wife?"

"Yes," I reply without thinking, "yes, yes, yes, yes-"

"And you will give me your pups," he mutters, "bare my dragons, like a dutiful wife will you not?"

My only response is my body breaking orgasm. I shiver beneath him, falling powerless as I scream his name and crumble, absolutely boneless.

Daemon lets out a string of curses as he milks out my reaction for all he's got.

He does not waver once bit and it maddeningly delicious.

My voice hikes up when I feel him release inside me not too late after.

"Fucking come slut," he barks as he snaps his hips in me, "take it all just like that."

I bury my screams in the cushions he presses on, unrelenting. When he finally does grow sloppy, I take a moment to catch my breath and relish the feel of him.

I whimper when he pulls away and slaps my ass.

"The absolute mess you've made of yourself," he coos, as he rubs the skin he slapped.

I can feel myself leaking, I can feel it all over my legs, on the sheets, and I could practically feel his pleased smile as he watches the lewd display. I could not bring myself to care at all though, not when my legs begin to fall.

I squeak when Daemon rearranges me on the bed. He is not at all as rough as he was with me a while ago, but his strength and my lack thereof does not really allow him to be gentle.

He falls onto the side of the bed next to me and gathers me into his chest. When I roll over to him, I groan at the feeling of my wet thighs pressing together.

"Do not make issue of that," Daemon says as he watches me squirm. He pulls me close to him, arm over my shoulders. His other hand hooks behind my knee, dragging me atop him. I whimper and push my hand on his chest when I feel core empty out on his thigh.

He does not allow me to pull away and I turn to him because of this. Daemon forces me close against him, "are you so haughty over my come that you cannot bare the thought of it-"

"But it's getting everywhere," I start off loudly but end with a whisper.

Daemon's nostrils flare as he shakes his head, "I should sure hope so."

I feel my cheeks burn and so I decide to hide my face in his chest.

His laughter intensifies, and I do not enjoy how my head bounces on his ribcage because of it.

"Oh meekness suits you well, my dear."

I weakly mumble, "fuck off."

His amusement continues as he rubs my arms, "you mean, 'I want you to fuck me, Daemon.' "

"I did not say it like that!" I quip, lifting my head as I turn to him, finally making him cease his stupid laughter. The sight of his stupid smug face still glimmering in slick renders me frozen.

Suddenly I am aware of how cold the room still was.

"Pray tell, how did you say it?" he hums, pushing hair behind my ear.

I furrow my brows and press my cheek on his chest again, admitting lowly, "I didn't say your name at the end."

"My," he draws shapeless figures on my skin, "I'm glad to know the moment is burned in your very being."

"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, scratching my eye. It dawns onto me that my face was equally as wet as Daemon's. Heat rises up my face again when I realize I really did cry because of how good he felt.

"Don't fret," he sighs, "there is a reason why you should not worry yourself about how your pretty cunt is leaking blood and come. I shall fuc-"

I turn to him in concern and push myself up.

Daemon furrows his brows and shakes his head, "it is normal," he soothes, grabbing my cheek, "or did you just forget your maidenhood was still intact after imagining fucking me?"

I am suddenly aware how real everything was. My husband has finally gotten me to consummate our marriage and all his talk of me bearing his seed could may well come true. My chest begins to constrict as my mind floods with endless scenarios.

"Well, if you start frowning like that, I might actually feel bad," Daemon mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows, "what's wrong?"

I look at his concerned expression and find myself speaking before I realize, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he clarifies quickly.

"That you want me," I quip just as fast.

He stares at me for a moment, as if he was taken aback or measuring the truthfulness in my voice. When a prolonged moment passes between us, he realizes I was serious.

"Fuck," he drops his head back, "it must be exhausting to be a woman with your overthinking."

"Well, pardon me for not-"

"You are pardoned," he blurts, making me whimper when he suddenly flips us over.

I am beneath him again. He does nothing but press his weight on me, but I struggle beneath him, not enjoying the idea of remaining in an uncomfortable position.

He misreads my intentions and hinders me from moving, as he wraps his arms around me, "I just told I want you, that I burn for you, that I want you to mother my children. Do you honestly think I am one to say that to anyone?"

I gulp as he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck, "I..." he breathes against my skin. He does not continue as he opts to kiss my neck instead.

When I move to wrap my own arms around him, he speaks again, "I am at your mercy. You saved me from freezing to death when you could have easily decided to rid of me."

I press my cheek against him and begin to comb through the long hair on his back, "I was serious about my distaste to remarry."

"Well, you will not," he quickly retorts, "you will have me until the end."

I bring my legs around him as I release a sigh, "consider me overjoyed by the thought."

He chuckles as he shifts, "you do not sound-"

"I did not want to admit it," I cut him off, "but I think I..." I turn to him as he lifts his head, "I think I... care for you, Daemon... I-"

"Love you," he finishes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

And for the first time since our nuptials, he kisses me. He kisses me not because he has to, not for the sake of showing everyone present, but because he wanted to, for the sake of showing me.

He is nothing but warmth, nothing but fire, nothing but him. Daemon is not sweet, but in this moment he put even honey to shame.

He begins to stir on top me, though he makes sure his lips do not leave mine. It is because of my moan that we are broken apart, the moan that leaves me when I feel him slip inside me.

"Daemon-"

"You know how I fuck," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine, "but now we'll both know how I make love."

[cherryredstars]

OMG I SAW YOUR REQUEST IS OPEN AND OMG I WANTED TO ASK IF YOU CAN MAKE AN demon!MIGUEL x but Innocent/cute/ werid/quirkFmAngel! Reader (like the demon CAN be also called the spider demon that all work under Miguel eyes😝💅😩)

Reader is a angel that believes that there goodness in any creature that mean Miguel.yea but she doesnt believed in some angel like her ex- boyfriend,reader finally caught her boyfriend cheating while hanging out with the group while eating there ice cream or looking in the heaven village or city idk ??😣😭 ( miles, gwen, and pav and his girlfriend )which when Gwen and hobie and miles was shocked and gasp loudly at something that pulled reader attention and when reader saw it, reader came running away in tear at the sight of it.

and ran away far away from it ,While pav girlfriend with hobie beating his as while gwen is telling hobie that " ENOUGH HOBBIE " while pav is trying to stop his girlfriend from cheering on hobie from SCREAMING at reader ex- boyfriend for making reader spend ALL her time with such a USELESS F ING ANGEL WHO doesnt work FOR SH%T

meanwhile Miguel, is some were in heaven and hell which is what I called is the void or the pocket of both lands and that where Miguel is doing his business(while wearing his spider logo LIKE imagine him wearing an tight suit with some sort of amor ) killing angel and entity\antomty (I forgot the name💀) in his way with Layla of course but only telling him how many are there but that where reader came running away and fall into and also hitting a large rock and managed to hurt one of her wings,badly, which cause her to stare around for any help or tried to see if she know what is this place she flew into, And Miguel was done doing assignments (ahem- killing) amd then see her in such a state that make his heart beat again,

Meanwhile reader is crying not of fear, but she not in fear of the man in front of him.. She finding it sexist (ok I want to make reader weird,or quirky💀😭) ok it not her problem OR FAULT OK it was his aura, big BOTTY OF A ASS that reader probably think she has seen in her life form a boy ✊😝 and his horns,

reader realized she still have tear in her eyes and started wipes her face and getting up from the floor but then the pain of her wings finally came. (And Layla being Layla teleport to Miguel to see if he done with work and see reader on the floor with a broken wing with blood and Layla making an deal or some thing idk to convince him to let her live while saying in a language Spanish but that a ancient towards reader)

NFSW PART THAT J COMPLETED SUCK AT

Let imagine Miguel heat or is just hella intoxicated with a sex drug from layla putting there (putting or idk someone LIKE PETER B ) and left it on his favorite desk( that he like to slam on A LOT JUST FROM THE RETARD THAT HE HAS TO DEAL with work💀 ✊ men got his on TABLET FOR THAT lol) and it crash on the floor and broke and some gas that Miguel was intoxication from of it and went to his own place while reader was petting an demonic cat in his house

Here is a some plot idea for the NFSw part

(Also THIS IDEA WAS INSPIRED BY MANY WEEBTOON STORY AND I WANTED TO mush ALL THESE IDEA INTO ONE SO pls 😭 if I suck AT EXPLAINING THE PART and I wanted to say this but I feel like Miguel be the grump bear person character or big puffy cat person like he wouldnt like anyone touch his horn but when reader ask he let her touch his horn with a pout sound as he lean down 🗣😭✊ also you can make this a fluff/smut any kink will do honestly! THANK YOU bye ❤

Hope you have a great day and time ! (Sorry if this made be a long request but I dont see many people making a demon Miguel like this one and reader as well so yea and I really wanted to people be inspired by this one !!!😇😌🗣

Pairing: Demon!Miguel O’Hara x Angel!fem reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Virgin!Reader, Fluff, Mentions of Cheated on Reader, Slight Corruption Kink, Slight Fingering, Oral Sex, Praise, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Blood

Summary: Even the devil has a soft spot. 

Word Count: 3.9K (Not Edited)

It had been a gloomy day. 

You had never expected to find your sweet, attentive boyfriend sucking faces with someone else. It had ruffled your delicate feathers and for your wings to curve in with despair. Your friends had tried to pull you away from the scene, the dejection clear on your face as you stared longingly at the man you had given your golden heart to. Their reassuring words floated past you, mind preoccupied on why this could have happened to you. Was it something you did? Were you not enough? Were you missing something?

Later into that day, after numbly reassuring your friends you were alright, you had wandered aimlessly across the angelic city. You were so lost in thought that you had not realized you had taken too many turns out of the city, finding yourself in the Void. So unused to the dark, unfamiliar land, you had stumbled your way around, catching your wings on things you couldn’t see clearly until your body was sore and you had wilted to the ground in a hopeless mess. You were unsure of how long you had laid there, a withering mess of innocent pain before he had sniffed you out. 

From his account of events, he had just been back from one of his sessions of…repentance as he calls it. Even though his suit and dulled armor was splattered with blood, he knew the lingering scent in the air was fresh, more innocent than the kind he had spilt. He had followed the sweet fragrance, finding your helpless form crowded to the ground. You had looked up at him with such shiny eyes, a puffed pout on your lips. Your appearance alone was angelic, his hand itching to reach out and taint your delicate skin. He swore a glowing aura shielded your body, setting you apart from the gloominess of the Void. If not the scent of your blood, the shininess of your glow would attract dark things like him to you. 

You had shrunk back in response to the strong presence he held, not realizing tears had flowed down your face until he commanded you to wipe them away. When he had told you to follow him, you had weakly pushed yourself up, using the sound of shifting armor as your guide through the dark. He had taken you back to the modest cabin, cold and nearly as empty as the world outside. He had left you by yourself, your wings fluttering nervously as you tried to see more than blurred darkness. When he had lit a dim light, you had instantly flocked towards it while he kept his distance. You had crowded around the greenish-yellow flame like a moth, staring at it as if it was as angelic as you were. 

His rough hand was firm around your shoulder blade, pushing you into a seat near the flame. He stood behind you, as if using you to shield him from the light as he bandaged the fracture in your wing quietly. You had sat still, watching the flame dance on the candle wick. The light illuminated your face in a ghastly light, creating intense shadows against the features of your face. When he had pulled away, you turned to look for him, only to be met with pure black. You reached your hand out tentatively, pulling it back when you had met the cold metal of his armor. HIs own hand reached out to you, centimeters away from your face so you could see it. 

Your delicate fingers brushed over the calluses on his hand and in a gravelly voice he had asked you, how pretty, innocent you, found yourself an injured bird in such a dark place. With his adapted eyes, he had seen the darkening of your cheeks and the wounded look in your eyes. You had looked away, a half-hearted excuse of getting lost leaving your plush lips before asking him for his name. 

He answers begrudgingly, a low grumble that you have to strain your ears to catch. You find it only fair to tell him yours in return, and Miguel lets the word circulate into his head until it's fully memorized. The name suits a gentle creature like you he thinks, a soft symphony of syllables that are yours to own. It sounds like church bells and birds chirping, something that's shunned in the Void. The natural greed that fuels his body wants to lock you up and keep you for himself. 

Instead, he shoves the lantern into your hands, a silent demand to follow him as he walks towards the cabin’s entrance again. You two walk through the barren land, your small form following him as you stare at the more clearly defined shapes of the land. When you begin to slow or stray too far, he lets out a slow rumbling noise from his chest that draws you back to him. He doesn’t seem particularly annoyed when he does it, but he isn’t exactly happy about it either.  

You follow him until he stops, your distracted mind almost causing you to crash into him. You peak out from behind him quizzically, holding your lantern up only to find it useless. Even though Migurl stopped a good distance away, the light of the holy city is visible. A delighted smile makes its way onto your face as you look up at him, a silence thanks for his kindness. He doesn't look visibly affected, but his unmoving heart stutters in a single kick. 

You wordlessly walk out from behind him, taking a few steps forward before stopping and running back. His eyebrow raises as you stop right in front of him,a shy smile on your face as you take his hand and wrap it around the lantern’s handle with a soft thank you. You had given his hand a lingering squeeze before turning away from him and walked towards home. You had turned once after crossing out of the Void, eyes searching for a figure and a green glow, but both seemed to have disappeared into the darkness.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

Two weeks later, you were surprised to see that green glow in the distance. Based on the height of it, you knew it had to be Miguel. You took a hesitant step into the Void, then another and another until you were getting closer and closer to the light. You had stopped five feet away, close enough for the light to be an arm away, but far enough that you couldn’t see the face you’ve yet to see. It was silent for a long moment before that familiar rumble vibrated in the air. The softest of smiles came over your face as you walked closer, taking the lantern from him when he offered it to you. You lifted your arm up, letting the light travel up his form until you were looking into deep red eyes. 

A stifled gasp had left you, but it held more fascination than fear. Your eyes had drunk in his features, eyes mostly trained between his glowing orbs and the twisted points that spiraled from his soft hair. He had studied you too, eyes flashing at the delicate bow of your lips and the twinkling shine in your eyes. When you lowered the light, you kept your eyes trained to the place of his own eyes as you whispered a hello. He grunted back in response and turned to make way back to the cabin. You never hesitated to follow him back. 

It was in that very cabin that you spent most of your time together. Where the two of you bonded. You sat and talked, Miguel listening as he cleaned his armor or prepared you desserts made from sweet berries and cream that he bought from travelers in anticipation for your frequent visits. The first few visits acted as check ups, Miguel making sure your wing mended and had full capability. Those visits were quick and silent, but they made you anxious for the next one. 

Sometimes, after being too cramped in his cabin, you would ask Miguel to show you around the Void. He always grumbled about it, muttering how the Void was, well, void of anything besides plain terrain and the occasional hut or trading stand. But he had found that there was little he could deny you, something in his body against the idea of rejecting something so bright and lively. He had discovered this trait during an earlier visit where you had asked him in the sweetest tone he had ever heard if you could touch his horns. The disapproval was on the tip of his forked tongue, but seeing the way you had blinked so hopefully up at him only resulted in the bowing of his head as your gentle hands traced the grooves of the foreign keratin. 

On special days, the days where MIguel had no repentance to take care of, he would let you decorate his horns and hair with beads and accessories you had brought over and never took home. He would hold the lantern up for you so you could focus on your work, and he told you in a gruff voice about the more tamer quests he had been on. But those stories were rare and far between, Miguel finding someone as pure as yourself in no need to know about blood and death as he’s known them. But, they were fun to hear even with their heavy censorship and you absorbed every word like gospel. Honestly, you spend more time focusing on the sound of his voice rather than his words. You loved the deep calmness to his speech, wishing you had a way to record it so you could play it over and over in the hours you spent away from him. 

On the really bad days, the days where Miguel had come to fetch you at the border of the Void and the holy city in more blood than usual, he would take you back to the cabin in silence and wash up before pulling you to his sofa and cradling your innocent form to his chest. The both of you would be bathed in darkness, the lantern a far away glow on the dining table as he tried to absorb your good. He would hold your head gently, breathing in your sweet scent as he played with the ends of your hair or flattened the feathers of your wings. It helped calm him down, feeling the slight pleased purr vibrate against his chest as you beamed under his attentive care. He would rumble his chest slowly in response, showing his own content. Those days you knew you had to distract his mind, letting his mind fill with nothing but the events of your day or any days you were apart. When you ran out of events, you started telling him your own thoughts. Recalling a question you have about the universe, a flower you saw on your way to the Void’s edge, how you think maybe the next time you visit you’ll bring Miguel a nice piece of decoration to hang up so his cabin doesn’t look so sad. 

But no matter the type of day, no matter how many times you had visited him, he always walked you back to the edge of the Void at the same exact time. It was like clock work. It didn’t matter if you didn’t finish your story, it didn’t matter if you weren’t done removing the decorations from his hair, it didn’t matter if he hadn’t fully calmed down yet. When a small chime ran through his house, he would drop whatever he was doing, standing to give you your lantern before walking you out of his cabin. You had asked him about it a singular time, but he had ignored it. You waited, debated if you should ask again in case he didn’t hear you, but then that time happened and you dropped it. You had stayed curious about it, but you had come to terms with the fact that you’d possibly never know.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

You don’t know what compelled you to come so late. It was far past the time you would usually come, proven by the fact no lantern glow greeted you at the edge of the Void. But something in you urged you to go, your feet basically dragging you through the darkness. Luckily, the frequency of your visits made you familiar with the path to Miguel’s cabin, hand stretched out until it hit the flat wood of a door. It only took you a few pats to find the doorknob, turning it and sliding it open. 

Instantly, a dark musk filled your senses. It makes your head dizzy and you grip tighter onto the knob to steady yourself. When you think you're stable enough to walk, you take a step forward only to almost trip on an overturned chair. A spike of alarm rings in your head and you can’t help the urgency powering your voice as you call Miguel’s name. In the darkness, there is a faint noise of shuffling before you yelp out in surprise. Large hands grab you and flip you on the couch, your hands shoved above your heads as the sound of deep breathing echoes in your ear. Your body instantly melts into the fabric at the sound of Miguel’s voice asking you what you’re doing here. 

You try to shift your hands, but Miguel tightens his hold on them. You huff out a pout but stop struggling as you ask him if he’s okay. He doesn’t reply, burying his head into the crook of your neck and inhaling deep. His breath tickles around your neck and you can’t help the soft squirms your body makes. 

“Smells s’good,” Miguel mumbles against your skin, his hips pinning yours down so you can’t try to escape. You try to stifle the gasp that builds in your throat at something hard pressing into you. When Miguel’s wet tongue glides up the length of your neck, a soft noise leaves you parted lips. Your hips buck up to push him off, but he only grounds and grounds his hips into you. 

Another sound leaves you, slightly louder than before as you feel something rush into your panties. The feeling of the wetness is uncomfortable and you try to shift to relieve it. Miguel’s hands find your waist and grip hard, holding you still as you pull away from your neck. His eyes are glowing so brightly that you can see the red tint in the darkness. “It’s witching hour, y'know.

Can’t be here, ángel.” 

Despite the gruffness of his appearance, the words are sweet and full of concern. If you could, you would have reached your hand up to cup his face. He looks and sounds pained. You don’t know why, but you want to help. “Are you okay, Miggy? You don’t sound so good, is there anything I can help you with?”

The honey dripping from your voice makes him grind his hips against you again. You just sound so sweet. His perfect little angel was so worried about him. Wanted to be helpful to him. So sweet and pure and innocent. So goddamn tempting. And, like he said before, he can never deny you. He can’t deny you. Who denies help from an angel anyways? Definitely not him. Definitely not when you can help. 

His hand reaches down and cups under your pretty white tunic, a gasp leaving you when he cups your clothed sex and the heel of his palm presses the wetness against your skin. A deep moan leaves Miguel at the dampness, his hand rubbing it eagerly. “Yeah, you can.”

Before you can ask him what it is he needs help with, you feel too long fingers slip under your panties. Your body instantly tenses as Miguel teases them along your entrance, more slick rushing from you to coat his fingers. He tries to push them in, absolute surprise coursing through him when your walls don’t instantly give to take them at the same time. He tries to ease the tips of them, but still gets nothing. It frustrates him. You’re so wet, he can see you glistening before him. Fuck, you hips are even pressing back into his hand. So why can’t you take his fingers? 

Then, it hits him. His sweet little angel is a virgin. 

He grows impossibly harder at the thought. You really are pure. His tiny little angel, untouched and pure. All for his taking. His eyes trail up your body, looking into your confused face. Poor thing doesn’t even understand what’s happening. But, it’s okay. Miguel, he isn’t mean. He may be a demon but he isn’t mean. He’ll take care of you. 

“Need you to spread your legs f’me, doll. Spread your legs and relax.”

You obey so beautifully. You don’t question or hesitate. You only do, only please. Your legs spread for him and he watches the way your tunic bunches around your waist. The sight of your drenched cunt is downright heavenly and he can’t help but lick his lips. His hands glide up your legs until he’s helping you keep your legs open. Gently, he bends down and places them over his shoulder until he’s face to face with your practically see-through panties. He licks a long strip up them, tongue swirling around your poked bud. Your lips instantly buck up in response and your hands find his horns for support. 

He chuckles at you, studying you as he pushes your panties to the side again. He licks another strip up you, your slick collecting on his taste buds. You taste as sweet as you smell and it’s driving him wild. The grip on you tightens as he prods at your entrance. His tongue is wet and warm and causes you to feel things you didn’t even know were possible. Your hips lift in response, and you cry out when Miguel slips his tongue into you. 

The buckling of your hips is instinctive as his tongue dives in and out of you, occasionally playing with your clit. Your eyes are threatening to roll back as your hands tighten around Miguel’s horns to aid your movements. “M-miguel…what are you..?”

Miguel’s own eyes roll back at your clueless question. You don’t even understand what’s going on, but here you are desperately trying to ride his face like a fucking succubus because you feel that good. A deep groan vibrates against you as he eats you out more desperately, drinking up everything you’re spilling out. In response, you keep letting out the prettiest of noises. If this is what it's like to go to church, Miguel just might consider being stricken down for the chance to hear your moans. 

Your legs begin to shake, trying to fight Miguel’s strong hold. Your body quivers and twists, head thrown back as you try to stop whatever it is building inside of you. “Miguel…stop, wait!”

Your begs and pleads are absolute music to him, He can feel the clenching of your walls, and he tries to ease a finger into you to hold them apart. His fingers slip in easier than before, but it still has resistance. But the moment he’s knuckle deep and curls, you’re crying out as you finish. Miguel’s eyes snap up to you, watching drunkenly as you twitch. He slurps everything up, moaning into you as he sucks your lips. He pulls away with a pop, placing a gentle kiss onto your sensitive clit as you try to breathe. Your chest rises and falls, sweat making your tunics stick to your body and become transparent in some places. You’re nipples peek through the fabric, and Miguel sucks them until they’re clearly seen under the garment. 

He finally reaches up to your face, kissing your cheek to call you back to him. Your eyes are hazy as you turn to look at him, a small film of satisfaction coating them. The sight makes Miguel smile, nuzzling his nose against your skin to breathe in the lingering scent of sex and sweat on you. You smell absolutely divine and he can’t help but palace a slow kiss to your lips. Your own lips are clumsy, not really knowing what you’re doing. You just follow Miguel’s example and whatever your brain is telling you is right. But Miguel seems to be enjoying it, pressing his lips harder against you and humming. 

You’re the first to pull away, a gasp ripping from you as you feel his finger slide back into you. He wiggles it around, stretching your walls out in preparation for something bigger. You whine against his lips. Hips shifting when he pulls it out of you. But soon you feel the warmth of something larger poking at your opening. Your eyes meet Miguel’s glowing ones, a silent question in your eyes. 

Miguel presses a soft kiss to the corner of your eye as he begins to push in. His hand tilts your head to the side, his face looking down at you as your own twists in discomfort. “This is gonna hurt for a second, sweet angel.” 

Before you can ask what he means, his hips snap forward. A scream begins to leave your throat, but it dies once Miguel surges towards your neck and bites down. The pinch of something painful hits you before it all dies down into a euphoric numbness. A soft moan leaves you as Miguel slowly thrusts in and out. He pulls away from your neck, giving it a quick lick and kiss before taking your arms to wrap them around his neck loosely. He kisses your cheek again, moaning at the coppery smell of blood that begins to feel the air as he stretches your hymen. 

“That’s it. So fucking good for me, good girl.”

Even in your dazed state, your body glows under his praise. A slow hum leaves you, and you arch your back into him. Miguel’s hand slips to your lower back, pressing your skin into his body and he begins to speed up his thrusts. Each snap of his hips brings shockwaves of pleasure through you, and it isn’t long before you feel the familiar build up in your body again. Miguel groans as your walls tighten around his cock, teeth grinding together as he pushes through your tight walls. With another sharp thrust, you're moaning out again as you release. 

Miguel continues to work you through it, working at your clit to make it last longer. You whimper in appreciation, body pressing up into his fingers for more. He chuckles at the involuntary movement, working you even after your body jolts from oversensitivity. His fingers and his thrusts don’t stop until he feels his own pleasure beginning to form its peak. WIth a few sharp thrusts and you moaning his name, he spills his hot seed into you. The feel of it filling you makes you come again, hips lifting and pressing into his pelvis to keep it all into you. 

Miguel rubs soft circles into the skin of your hips to help you calm down, pressing kisses to your shoulders and muttering praise. He pulls out slowly, his cock an ombre of pink to creamy white cum as the same mix drips from you. His fingers fuck it back into you absentmindedly, only stopping when you cry out softly. He gives you time to rest, leaving to get a soft cloth to wipe you down. 

Midway through his cleaning, you hand lands to his arm. He looks up at you questionably, watching the dazed look beginning to leave your eyes. But he can’t help the wide smile that forms on his face as you ask: “Again?”

Teehee

[coryosbaby]

Ultraviolence - E.L & C.M

(pt. 1)

Fandom: “Scream Vi”

Pairing: Stepbrother! Ethan Landry x fem! Reader, Chad Meeks Martin x fem! Reader (not in this chapter), Ethan Landry x Chad Meeks Martin (not in this chapter)

Warning: dubcon, stepcest (stepsister x stepbrother), reference to being siblings while fucking (I’m sorry), jealousy, p n v, Ethan isn’t a virgin in this, loss of virginity for reader, Cherry popping, slight blood kink, scent kink, sir kink, dark! Dom! Ethan, sub! Reader, slight perv! Reader, Ethan is older (19/20), reader is of age, quinn doesn’t exist ig, masturbation, fingering, corruption kink, degradation, choking, a little bit of titty worship

A/N: this is the first part to the stepbrother! Ethan landry fic! <3 heavily imagining the way Ethan acts after the ghostface reveal for this, bc he’s just so cray cray and fine 😜 so he’s like, majorly unhinged and cocky 💗💋 reader is also hyperfem ! (I like pt 2 better honestly pls bear with me)

When you first figured out that your mom was marrying, you were ecstatic. She deserved to be married to a decent guy, and Wayne was someone in that category. He was nice, had money, and you didn’t dislike him.

When you first met Ethan, however, he made you nervous.

You didn’t hate him, per say. But the intense look he gave you the first time he was forced to shake your hand put a chill up your spine. His gaze itself cut into you like a knife. Polar opposites, him in dark sweaters, t-shirts, and jeans. And you? Clad in the shortest skirts, in the tightest tops.

The boy had ignored you the first few weeks of knowing each other. Now moved in, you’re both in the same house. Your rooms are right across from each other’s: yours completely covered in pink, with flower and hello kitty accessories laying about. Ethan’s is definitely different; a little bit less cluttered, most of it blue. A bookcase in one corner. You knew this because he left his door open quite often.

You regret not paying attention to that tiny detail.

It’s a sunny day. The sun is shining brightly down on you as you rest beside the pool in your backyard. Clad in a checkered pink bathing suit, your hair is thrown up with a claw clip and you’re spread out on a towel. Suntanning is one of your favorite activities, and today is great for it.

Wayne is at work and your mom is away doing errands. You don’t know where Ethan is. Probably in the living room watching a show, you suspect. It’s what he usually does.

You sigh, and pop the knuckle of your left hand. It’s definitely time for a drink, and you want to get your Bluetooth speaker.

When you go inside, you climb up the stairs to your room. Ethan’s door is slightly cracked, but not to the point where you can see inside. Not unless you’re close to it, at least. He must be busy.

You roll your eyes when you catch sight of the dress you’re going to be forced to wear at your mom’s wedding resting on the top of your dresser. You love her, but the woman does not have a good sense of style.

Grabbing the small speaker in your hand, you begin to make your way back outside.

And that’s when you hear it.

A groan, and then something wet.

Its coming from Ethan’s room, and sounds like him. And it’s as if the sounds he’s making started up right when you went to leave. And with his door unlocked? It couldn’t be that wrong to be curious and see what he was doing, could it?

You approach the door, not really thinking it through. And when you catch sight of the room through the crack of the door, it takes everything in you not to rub yourself.

You can see Ethan on his bed, shirt off and his bottom lip caught in between his teeth, his sweats pulled down to expose himself. He’s looking at his cock, face scrunched up in pleasure, and god, he’s big. You can feel your face heating up, can feel your swimsuit beginning to get soaked with more than just water.

“Oh… shit. Yeah, baby. You like that cock, don’t you? You dirty little bitch.” He growls, and it’s like he’s saying it directly to you.

And maybe he is. Because as his thumb is rubbing the tip of his cock, he looks directly at your quivering form in the door, thrusts his hips into the air, and cums.

You’re trying your hardest to avoid Ethan.

And who wouldn’t? He’s your fucking stepbrother and you just watched him jack off; not only that, but he orgasmed when he saw you watching. It’s fucked up.

You try to push the guilt of touching yourself later that night to the thought of it down. And it’s hard. Ethan sends you glances, a lot more noticeable than his usual ones, and when you make eye contact with him he looks at you with mischievous eyes.

And then comes the day that you’re both alone again. You’re on the couch watching a show, trying to get your mind off of Ethan. When of course, he comes down the stairs, wearing a black button up shirt and jeans. The shirt hugs his muscles and you try not to pay attention to that. He sits down beside you.

“Hey, sis.” His voice is amused, and you don’t look at him as you adjust your thigh highs.

“Hey, Ethan.” You mumble. The tv show is suddenly very interesting.

“I like this show, too. Really good.” He notes, as if this isn’t the first set of words you’ve ever really said to each other. His hand rests on the top of your thigh and the movement makes you jump out of your seat. You look at him for a moment and then scurry to the kitchen.

“Where are you goin’ sis?” He questions loudly.

“T-To…get something to drink!”

You go to the fridge to open the door and pull out a Cherry Coke, nervous hands skimming over other drinks to have an excuse to stay in the room for longer. You jump when you turn around and Ethan is leaning against the counter. He looks calm, a small smirk playing on his handsome face.

“Can you get me one too, sweet thing?”

The nickname makes you flush, and you turn around to reach back into the fridge and grab another Cherry Coke.

You hold it out to him, but instead of grabbing the drink his hand goes to wrap around your wrist to pull you closer. You inhale sharply when his hand comes up to move a piece of your hair out of the way. He then leans into you, so much that you can feel his breath. You clench your eyes shut and pull away when his lips almost touch yours.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“E-Ethan…” he’s looking at you so intently, that it makes you flush under his gaze. And then his fingers move to the thin strap of your top, playing with it. He seems deeply concentrated on it. Or, more likely, your tits. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do or… or trying to start, but we can’t-”

“You’re really pretty, do you know that?” He interrupts, and you stutter, not really knowing how to reply.

“Y-Yes? I mean, a lot of people say it, but…” he looks up at you and smiles.

“You’re so sweet, too. So innocent..” he frowns, his grip tightening on your shirt strap. “But maybe you aren’t. Because you’re a little pervert, aren’t you baby?”

“I-I didn’t… I didn’t mean to-“

“But you did. Don’t lie to me.”

“I-I’m sorry…” you say, breathless.

And then, without warning, he’s kissing you. You gasp at the harshness of his mouth, and he yanks you closer to him by your hair. He turns you around to shove your body against the counter, as if you weigh nothing. You moan, and he reaches down to grope one of your tits in his hand.

“Let me see these. Now.”

You whimper, hesitant, so Ethan makes the decision for you. He yanks your straps down and your tits spill out, nipples hard and stiff from your arousal. He brings one into his mouth and sucks, his teeth scraping the swollen skin.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see these tits, sweetheart.” His cock grinds against your clothed pussy, and you thrust your hips forward.

“This is… god, this is so wrong, fuck…”

“But you want it, don’t you? Dirty girl.”

His strong hands go underneath your ass and lift you up on the counter. He brings his mouth back to yours, and groans when you touch his hard bulge through his sweats. Fuck it. What’s done now can’t be undone.

“I do want it, sir. Wan’ it so bad.”

He lifts your skirt up, moves your underwear to the side, and sticks his middle finger in your tight heat. You hide your face in his chest, his smell making your brain cloudy, makes you forget the possibility that both of your parents could come home at any moment.

“You’re such a wet little thing.” He breathes. “Gonna let me fuck this sweet pussy, baby?”

You nod shyly, and he laughs.

“C’mon, baby, don’t get shy on me now. Let me see you. ”

You look up at him, and he grips your throat.

“Are you going to let me fuck you?” He questions again.

“Yes sir.”

And then moments later you’re bent over the counter, virgin pussy spasming around Ethan’s incredibly large length. You’re crying, the stretch painful, but nonetheless he feels amazing.

His big hands grip your hips harshly as he slams into you, sweat beading on his chest. When he looks down, your creamy fluid mixed with blood drips down his cock, and he grins.

“Awww, baby. You’re bleeding! ” He mocks. “Little virgin pussy can’t handle my fat cock, can it?”

You mewl, thrusting your hips back harder, craving more of him.

“Yeah, pretty baby. That’s it. Take your big brother’s cock.”

[sungbeam]

007!ji changmin x f!reader

you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)

▷ word count. 11.1k

▷ based on. casino royale (2006)

a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!

YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.

It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.

After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.

You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.

It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—

A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.

“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.

You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”

Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.

The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.

But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.

“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”

You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.

Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.

The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”

“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.

You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”

He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”

When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.

“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.

You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”

“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.

The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.

“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.

“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)

Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”

The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”

“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.

Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”

“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.

“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”

Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.

“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.

He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”

You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”

He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”

An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”

“Significant others then,” he offered.

You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”

“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”

You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”

“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.

“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.

“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”

“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.

“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”

“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”

The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.

Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.

Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.

“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.

You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”

The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.

The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”

“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”

Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.

Assistant? As if.

For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.

The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”

(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)

Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”

“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”

With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.

“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”

“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”

His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”

As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.

He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”

“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.

“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”

“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”

Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.

You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”

The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”

He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.

Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.

At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.

You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.

You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”

He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”

You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”

“Got it.”

Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.

Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.

You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.

The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)

It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.

Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”

“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”

Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.

A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.

Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.

You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”

His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”

Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.

Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.

When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.

He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”

There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.

The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.

You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.

The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.

Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.

“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.

Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.

You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.

As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.

When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”

“Right away, sir.”

You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.

The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”

With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.

From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”

You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”

“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”

“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”

He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”

“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”

You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.

Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.

“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”

You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”

“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.

His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”

A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.

When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.

Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.

You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.

The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.

You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?

It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.

“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.

“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.

They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.

“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”

Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.

Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”

A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”

You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.

“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.

Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”

You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.

When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.

You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. “What now?” You asked him.

“I need more money.”

“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.

His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”

“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”

Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”

Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”

“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”

“Ji.”

Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.

You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.

Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”

“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.

Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.

Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.

After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.

You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.

“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.

You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.

“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.

Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.

You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.

You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”

“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.

Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”

The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”

“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.

You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.

You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.

You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.

“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.

As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.

But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.

They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.

“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.

Relief was short-lived.

Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.

Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.

For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.

You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.

“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.

You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.

Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.

Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.

“Yn—”

“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.

You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—

With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.

“Not so fast.”

Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.

“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”

You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.

You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—

A shot rang out.

Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.

The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.

You nearly died just then.

With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.

There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.

The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.

Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.

Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.

It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.

In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.

You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.

And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.

Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.

Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.

Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.

“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.

“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.

As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.

All that was left were Changmin's.

With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—

“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”

Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.

From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.

Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.

Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”

“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”

He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”

You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”

The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.

“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”

“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”

“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.

Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.

Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”

“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”

“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”

With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.

His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.

So loud, that you almost missed it.

You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?

There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.

“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”

A muffled response in return.

“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”

You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.

Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.

You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”

Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.

One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.

A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.

Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.

You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.

With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.

“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.

He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”

You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.

You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.

The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.

Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.

The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.

He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.

There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.

Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.

The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—

You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.

When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.

As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.

You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”

“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.

You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.

From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.

“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.

“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.

Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”

Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.

You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.

He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.

“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”

You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.

“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”

“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”

He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”

His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”

And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.

When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”

Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.

When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.

It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.

No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.

Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”

Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.

The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.

“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”

Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.

“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.

“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”

“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…

He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.

You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”

For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.

“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”

The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.

“Changmin—”

“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”

We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.

“W.”

The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.

Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”

You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.

Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.

“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”

“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.

A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”

“Giddy?”

“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.

He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.

He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”

Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.

You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.

Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (teaser !!)

the ring doesnt always have to be filled with violence.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

contains; boxer! seungcheol, part-time barista! reader, gamer! wonu, part-time model! mingyu, rapper! vernon, vocalist! joshua (he appears for an open mic scene), they're all in college so college! au, psychology major! wonwoo, art major! vernon, art major! mingyu, business major! reader, business major! seungcheol, hhu playing cupid and matchmaker, no second lead syndrome drama kinda shit bcs i said so, childhood friends to lovers, seungcheol and reader lost contact somewhere in their teen years, seungcheol is an absolute simp for reader, multiple types of tropes to be found, seungcheol is rich (like absolutely filthy rich), same goes to the rest of the hhu (they don't flaunt it like how you'd expect most rich kids to do, just that occasionally reader would have a moment of realisation where she goes 'right, they have the money for that'), reader and her family aren't as rich but are well off enough to have a comfortable lifestyle (working middle class) there's fluff, some occasional angst

mature themes include; sexual tension, making out, lazily making out, fingering, oral (f&m receiving), dacryphilia, cheol is filthy rich and has a filthy mouth to go along with it, corruption kink, marking kink, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), dom! cheol, sub! reader, light bondage, lots of cussing, etc

a/n; yaho~ ik i've been gone for what, 3 years? but, i am back baby! (read in shane/ryan's voice from buzzfeed/watcher) and first fic ofc, i'm dedicating it to my beloved husband, cheol <33 this fic basically proves my permanent residence in delululand lmao 🥴

click here to join the taglist ♡

"you... want me to join your endurance stream?"

a small hum was met with your question as wonwoo took a sip from his can of black monster energy drink. "...but, why..?" you asked, completely confused.

it wasn't as if you didn't like the idea, though you were caught off guard as the only games you've ever played were... well, more catered towards your style of aesthetic. games such as animal crossing, melatonin, a little to the left.

wonwoo's taste in games on the other hand, they were what you'd expect from majority of the male demographic on earth ㅡ FNAF, first person shooter games, he has a huge obsession with chilla's art games (to which you understand why after watching his playthrough of 'the closing shift' and 'night delivery').

the usual horror, thriller and action genre is what you're getting at.

"reason number one, you're pretty. and no, i'm not trying to hit on you," he then proceeded to raise his hand as if he was taking an oath, "i swear i'm not. i meant it as in, who wouldn't want to watch a pretty girl play games? i know your preferred genre of games and mine are two different worlds but, i'm sure we can compromise."

wonwoo surveys both your surroundings, seemingly to check whether the coast was clear; before propping his arms onto the coffee table and leaning forward.

"reason number two being if you join, i'll be able to get seungcheol to join too."

"so, you're getting me to join so you can get cheol to join?" placing a hand over your chest, you faked betrayal, "i feel so hurt that you're only using me as bait, woo."

"hey, i also want you to join, okay?"

taking a sip from your milkshake, you stared at wonwoo, urging him to continue his explanation.

"___, please. i even had the whole process of the endurance stream planned out! i just need seungcheol hyung to say yes, and you're the key to getting him to say yes!"

"woo, you're friends, of course he'll agree! i don't understand how i play a role in this. i'm sure bantering with mingyu, or even trying a 'no cuss' bet with vernon would be enough to get him to say yes."

shaking his head while sighing, he muttered out a "it's not that simple..."

"woo, i seriously don't get it."

"___, i'm going to be extremely honest, okay?"

you shoot the male sitting front of you a confused look, which prompted him to take a sip of his drink.

"this isn't the first time i've done an endurance stream, i'm sure you know that too. and i'm sure you've seen seungcheol join them but, not all the time. you'll notice it's usually gyu or vernon with me and chat's pretty much made it an inside joke that hyung's a rare pokemon sighting on my streams."

you let out a small laugh at seungcheol being called a rare pokemon sighting, which makes wonwoo smile.

"and, as of late, i've noticed that whenever we hung out, seungcheol would be there too. regardless if he had a match the previous night and his entire body is sore."

"but... we're friends, no? why wouldn't he be there?"

"okay, allow me to rephrase that sentence."

"mmm?"

"seungcheol hyung will only say yes if you're there too."

you're mouth opened slightly, shocked and confused. as you tried to process wonwoo's sentence, he added on.

"and this is just my assumption based on what i've observed from the day vernon introduced you up to now."

"you sound like a psychiatrist, woo..."

"i am a psychology student, no?"

"touché. and what have you concluded from your observation, mr jeon?"

"i think seungcheol likes you."

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮. [Closed Doors]

Jungkook makes decisions every day- but none has ever felt as hard to make as the decision whether or not to keep or leave you.

Tags/Warnings: Hospital/Medical AU, Doctor!Jungkook, slightly aged up!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Dog Hybrid!Reader, another slightly heavy one but the comfort is strong with this hurt, angst, fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, blood, medical stuff, mentions of domestic (physical and mental) abuse, corruption, mentions of drug abuse, health scare²

Length: 2.3k Words, it's very tiny I'm very sorry

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: hi sorry I just really like this fic pls eat your vegetables

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"The little guy is recovering good." Namjoon nods. "But we'll have to inform child protective services, no matter if it was an accident or not.." He sighs, as Jungkook nods.

"I'm pretty sure it'll go well if it really was just that." He says. "I can't believe people just leave this stuff around when they know children eat any candy they see the moment they get the chance to." He shakes his head a bit angrily. "If that boy was a hybrid he'd be dead."

"Luckily he's not. I'll send the boy over to pediatrics, and as soon as that happens, he's out of our hands." Namjoon reminds his friend and coworker, as they both silently agree, walking through the hall. "How's your puppy doing?"

"Awake, and she's been transferred out of the ICU this morning, so I'm gonna check on her now and see how she's doing." Jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Have you decided if you want to take her in yet?" Namjoon wonders, greeting a fellow doctor who's passing by.

"No." Jungkook shakes his head. "Not.. yet."

It's a touchy subject for now- so Namjoon leaves it alone- letting the doctor enter your new room on his own, to check up on you.

It's quiet inside, no nurse yet present- and Jungkook is actually a little thankful for the short, quiet moment he's got. Standing close to you, he lets his hand run over one of your soft ears- now cleaned and fur soft and vibrant in color. It's something Jimin had informed him about yesterday- how you cried from happiness after he'd helped you properly clean your ears and tail, something that appeared to be very much unfamiliar and new to you.

It angers him, to know that you were nothing but something to show off until now.

So many of your health problems could've been avoided if you just had received any amount of proper care and attention. Yoongi already suspects that you might have developed some behavioral issues from the way you've been living until now- all that, combined with your physical troubles will take weeks if not months to resolve. If they ever resolve fully at all, that is.

Not that Jungkook really cares. He'd take you in even if you were to bite and scratch.

But it's not that easy, and he knows this. "Hello?" He carefully says as his hand shakes your shoulder gently. "Can you wake up for me for a moment?" He requests, and your eyes slowly open, squinting at the bright hospital lights, before you stretch- and hiss at something cramping. "Good morning." He greets you- and suddenly you seem to realize who's there- and your tail begins to wag under the blanket, ears turned towards him as you smile. "How do you feel, hm?" He wonders, but you don't answer.

It's to be expected. All of these traumatic events must've taken a toll on you- not just physically.

"Well you're looking a lot better already, that's for sure." Jungkook tells mostly himself, though he smiles when he spots you taking the praise for yourself as well. It gives him a moment just to quietly look at you; imagine what life could be like if someone like you was to wait for him inside his apartment, every day whenever he'd come home from work.

Surely, you'd turn his apartment into a home in no time. The thought of just a little more chaos inside his living space, a little more of a mess here and there, a bit of disorder in his life, might just be what could color his life a little more vibrantly. Make things more exciting, more emotionally valuable- maybe it could even make his life less about work, and more about..

well, living.

You're yawning, and he laughs, train of thought broken as he pets your head teasingly, before the door opens, and a very chipper Jimin walks in. "Ah, there's my favorite person!" He sings almost, walking in to put the small tray of food down, before he looks at Jungkook. "And you too, Doctor Jeon."

"Well thank you." Jungkook jokes, before he watches as Jimin opens the tray, revealing some light soup and rice for you to eat. It's only a small portion- just to slowly ease you back into eating, and not overwhelm you again. He notices how attached you seem to what he recognizes is an empty pillowcase of all things you seem to cling to, probably for comfort, taken from your first room you occupied. It's another problem- you now have no one to bring you any clothes or comforting items into hospital at all.

You're alone, all by yourself.

And for some reason, the realization of that small fact hits him hard.

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It's been not even a full 24 hours, and you're already causing mischief.

"There you are!" Jungkook sighs, relieved to have finally found you near a vending machine two floors away from where you should be- which is in your room, in your bed. You, meanwhile, are just simply smiling at him, tail wagging at the sight of him crouching down to you to pet your head. "Come on now, you gave the poor nurses a near heart-attack by vanishing like that." He gently scolds, before he stands back up to his full height, reaching for your hand.

But you just let yourself fall to your side, stubborn. Tail still wagging, smacking onto the smooth floor.

"Got yourself a troublemaker, huh doctor Jeon?" An older nurse laughs, watching the interaction between the hybrid specialist and you while she prepares a cart with food trays for the patients. The news of Jungkook's interest in maybe adopting you permanently has made it's round quite quickly by now- mostly thanks to Jimin, who's the unofficial news reporter of every bit of gossip there is.

Jungkook sighs. "Seems like it." He chuckles, unable to really be upset with you, considering how glad he is to see you up and running again instead of pale and fighting in the ER. It's as if you finally realized that in here, no one actually wants to hurt you. No one blames you. No one is mad at you. You're actually being cared for here- you can truly be yourself, and no one's gonna get upset over it.

And slowly, Jungkook starts to see your true personality- which does help in his decision whether or not you'll fit into his life, or not. He's not made one yet- the papers are still at home, on his desk in his office, unsigned.

It's a tough decision to make, after all.

On one hand, sure; he really likes you, you seem absolutely sweet and also independent enough to stay at home by yourself if he goes by all of your documents, which included general assessment of your overall intelligence and social capabilities. You're a bit of an odd case- while your instincts are very strong, your hybrid features very well developed, and your overall behavior shows habits and reactions similar to a hybrid much higher on the scale, you do know how to properly process situations in a more human way.

For example; Loud noises startle you, but they don't make you panic. Food and snacks make you excited, but they're useless as bribery if you don't want to do something. You can read, write, and are educated to a very good degree, and you understand social cues without any issues.

But on the other hand, Jungkook isn't a man with endless patience. He gets frustrated easily, especially with himself- so what if he snaps at you on accident? Will you understand that he doesn't mean it badly, and that it's not even directed at you? And what about when he has to work- will you be lonely in his home, unhappy but too nice to actually tell him? He doesn't want you to just waste away while he's too focused on his career. It's something important for him, after all- he can't just quit and call it a day.

Even if you were to say that you don't need the attention, or the affection, or constant care or anything at all- he'd still feel bad for not providing it anyways. Because you deserve it. You deserve someone who can love you each day properly, someone who doesn't have to push you to the back every time his job has to take priority.

He's not sure what decision to make.

Or if there's even a choice at all.

Suddenly, you're pulling on his shirt to get back his attention- probably because he started to look mad while thinking. He knows he does this- it's why he usually turns away from patients whenever he has to think about something, which makes his face look upset. "I'm not mad." He reassures you, smiling again, petting your ears again while you watch him with suspicion. You're currently in a different headspace, regressing after all the stress and honestly rather traumatic events, which makes communication a little difficult- but everyone manages, since you're quite expressive in other ways, able to tell what you want and think either way.

Jungkook wants to take care of you- he wants to take you home, and make sure you're happy forever, but he can't be selfish, or too fast with his decision.

"Now come on, it's lunch soon. You hungry?" He asks, and you nod, tail wagging as you stand up alongside him, hand holding onto his shirt as you walk next to him-

and this time, he decides to cave in a little, as he instead holds your hand in his while walking back to your room with you.

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Jungkook likes to play music in his apartment, even if it's just quiet.

It fills the space with noise, makes him feel less lonely, takes his mind off of things. It helps relax. But tonight, it doesn't really work, as he sits in his office, sighing as he looks at the unsigned paperwork still on his desk in front of him. He's read through all the documents more than twice now, knows what's written down, what information it all gives out to him- and yet, he's unsure what to do with it.

If he signs it, you'll be given to him for a foster time first- three weeks of 'trying it out' so to speak, to see if you're a good fit for him, and if he's a good fit for you. During that time, a careworker will visit randomly to check up once or twice, and at the end of it, it's you both who have to agree to an actual permanent registration. But Jungkook worries, he always does.

The thing he worries most about, is the fact that he feels like he's already in too deep. There's a small, pink and white plush toy in his lap after all, bought yesterday straight after work from a store specializing in hybrid clothing and other items. It's a comfort plush that holds scents very well, so he keeps it close to his body ever since buying it to offer it to you tomorrow morning when he's back in hospital to check up on you.

And yes, he has been browsing what a dog hybrid of your specific breed might need to live a happy life. He might also have looked up options for sports or other activities you might want to do-

he's really in deep, isn't he?

He sighs yet again, scratching his head in frustration after he puts down the pen, staring at the 'signature here' spot at the bottom. It could all be so easy, but he really doesn't want to fuck this all up.

He knows from Taehyung, an anesthesiologist and good friend, that having a hybrid can actually work out perfectly. He's balancing it just fine, his own hybrid at home happy and healthy, his work never suffering, his happiness thriving. The young medical worker always shows off pictures of him and his hybrid, proudly, and he really has every reason to be, considering where she came from.

But Jungkook also knows how tough it can be.

He's reminded of it every time he checks up on Yoongi and his cat hybrid- now awake, but clearly in distress over her lack of control over her own body, and it's going to be a long road to recovery for her and Yoongi just as much. He knows they'll get through it- but the amount of heartbreak and absolute terror that went down just scared Jungkook, straight up.

And he knows, your future together is absolutely going to be both of those scenarios- good, and bad.

"What's the worst that can happen.." He hums to himself, one hand playing with the fuzz of the comfort plush in his lap, little black eyes staring blankly at him, tiny mouth curved into a forever smile.

You deserve a happy future. You deserve to have opportunities, and care, and affection, and a stable environment you can rely on, and thrive in. And he won't ever really gain the knowledge of that happening if he's not the one providing that for you.

And yet, the doubts are still there, clouding his mind.

What's he going to do?

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

Is “willingly unloved” canon to the roomates au?

yes, unless it is excplicitly stated all comics/ drawings under the hashtag r canon!

it was also a bit of a character study of ethan, i wanted to draw what i think he would act like after going through something as traumatizing as re8 and re7. a lot of the times ethan getting horribly hurt (arms/legs cut off) is either passed off as a joke of "haha he lost another arm" or passed off as him being a idiot being stupid. i wanted to explore how those things would affect him and how all his past relationships did as well. both mia and chris, two people he cared for and trusted broke his trust, mia on two different occasions. (pls dont turn this into a anti mia post lol, its just straight canon im just acknowledging what she literally did. what she did affects the people in her life, and this post is about ethan. it doesnt nesscarily matter what her intentions were since the execution was still horrible so pls dont get upset at me)

in re7 he suffers the consequences of someones lie, and it repeats in re8. i feel like he would be far more reserved after re8. he cant trust anyone and he now lives with the knowledge that he and his daughter r bioweapons and there organizations out there to get him. in this AU chris is helping by trying to return ethan to a normal life but after re8 ethan would not trust chris imo. not in a way where he thinks chris will turn him into the BSAA or whatever but more like hes worried that chris is possibly hiding something important or planning something he doesnt know.

he would have major trust issues and probably would have huge difficulty with opening himself up to another connection, especially since leon is friends with chris. ethan would probably be wary due to association.

after re8 he is left with nothing. his wife lied to him again, and the man who was suppose to protect him did a horrible job at it LOL. he has rosemary and thats it. and at any moment someone could take her for being a bioweapon. he would live a life of paranoia and stress trying to give rosemary and normal life while trying to keep her safe at the same time. i feel like getting divorced with mia would be the best option for ethan. as much as they loved each other it wasnt healthy. mia wanted to forget and move on while ethan knew nothing and wanted to understand more. its unfortunate i know. in re8 ethan has a book about weapons and says, "its not paranoia if theyre really out to get you."

its honestly so tragic 😭

in a more realistic way to canon, ethan was doomed to die in that village. a life after it all, after surviving re8 would be horrible. the BSAA is corrupt so hes stuck with chris trying to hide and live a normal life. theres no where for him to go.

BUUTTTTTT... in a cutesy AU where leon and ethan r roomates he gets to heal so yayy. ethan would definetly be very hesitant to open up to leon and would probably not trust him for a long time

for now its just him and rose

[hwnglx]

omg i really loved mingyu’s reputation reading! can you do one for blackpink’s jennie? thank you

jennie's reputation among idols

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

male idols wo, quow, 8oc, 10oc+mo, 6op, de, 5op, kiosw

so, getting the world card first is interesting. there is this image of “perfection” she seems to radiate in male idols' eyes. i'm getting this perfect girlfriend material, someone who has it all. a lot of male idols project their own fantasies of what they'd want their girlfriend to be onto her, and can often put her on a pedestal. it's giving a celebrity among idols.

jennie definitely has a strong and powerful presence to many of them, some think it's desirable and attractive, some are one hundred percent intimidated and feel threatened by her success. i said this before in my wonyoung reading, but so many male idols are taken aback when they see a woman going places career-wise, they're still dumbfounded. it rubs them the wrong way, they just don't feel like it's right or that it should be that way. many still carry this engraved belief that women just aren't supposed to overtake men. it feels like an eyesore to them.

although an undeniable level of intimidation is present for most of them, many male idols seem to look at jennie as someone who feels out of place within the kpop industry. this was more of a thing in the past, but they believed she's way too emotional, and is way too much of an easy target. male idols think that jennie was searching for a level of emotional fulfilment in a place that wasn't gonna give her that. they think she didn't fit into a world that's almost exclusively focused on material success and financial gain. i can see this image of her as someone who's way too easily fooled, way too naive. in the industry, there was the reputation of her being someone who just gives gives and gives people everything they want, until she reached this breaking point of “fuck, i'm actually empty inside.” for many male idols, there doesn't seem to be a sense of feeling bad for her. most of them just think it was stupid of her to fall into traps, and allow herself to get used so much, in an industry that is selfish and corrupt and views women as objects beneficial for their own gain.

there is however, an awareness of jennie having become much more tough and hard to approach, after she realized her generous nature was being exploited. she's put her guard up, became much more rational, because she needed to be, and even became a person capable of swiftly manipulating you rather than being manipulated. many male idols think she grew herself a necessary backbone. i can see they probably still talk a lot behind her back, but wouldn't actually muster up the courage to just go up to her anymore.

female idols 2ow&3ow, 3osw, 8osw, kiosw, acosw, 9op, 2osw, knop

female idols think jennie is someone very universally likable and profitable. they think she's an idol who made progress by moving into different directions career-wise, not just remaining stuck in the kpop world. i can feel many being quite envious of her being such a recognisable figure in the entertainment industry in general, and being able to branch out into places they themselves would love to expand to.

there's a common theme, female idols also recognise jennie's more sensitive and vulnerable nature. they believe she used to be someone who got taken advantage of and ran over by people too much. a lot of them think she couldn't find comfort in the kpop industry, and kept feeling trapped because of the restrictive and harsh nature of it. like she kept being forced to stay within this box, when she didn't always agree with the rules that were forced upon her. there's this feeling of suffocation, looking around and not feeling you belong here.

female idols believe that once jennie matured and got a better understanding of how to deal with people in the industry, is when she started blossoming into a more content version of herself. she started being more courageous about stating her opinion and standing by it firmly, being more outspoken about when things aren't according to her liking.

there is a sense of jealousy surrounding the fact that, she even had the chance to develop into more of her “own boss”. a lot of them envy the fact that she's able to be so independent now, and can live her career according to her own rulebook. many of them wish they could have the freedom she's been able to earn. they think she's an idol who's very much in her own world, and only dips her foot into waters when she wishes to. she goes at her own pace, and can allow herself to slow down because of her financial security and the more bearable system she's been able to build for herself. i can hear “you've been able to do what i wish i could.”

note; throughout the entirety of this reading, i kept hearing “scapegoat”, and couldn't fully figure out what that meant. (english is my third language so i didn't even know the word's definition lol) i do think, that many idols see jennie as the member who took everything on the chin. meaning, the public let a lot of their need to hate, their anger or their frustration with blackpink, out on jennie because she was an easy target.

[dabislittlemouse]

Corrupt Hero Au Dabi is so underrated for me that I never see. Like imagine Dabi is a menace outside of hero work but he does such a good job doing the hero stuff people look past it. He sleeps around, parties a lot, skips office work until he met you in an accident. He saved you from being trapped under a piece of rubble and luckily you weren't too hurt. You thanked him and walked away casually. He's a bit flustered cause he's used to people worshipping him and gushing over him. So, like the hero he is he asks her for her info for witnesses for the accident and definitely not cause for personal reasons. He then usues his hero connections to get every bit of info on you. He then shows up at places that you would hang out usually sometimes he would just watch you and leave. Other times he would have a small conversation with you. And it wasn't suspicious at first Japan is a small place. The frequency of it happening the more time passed scared you. But what could you do? He's a top hero and he hasn't technically done anything too you. Dabi couldn't wait anymore and confronts you in a semi public area too make sure when he asked you out on a date you couldn't say no. You looked scared but you agreed and the fear in your eyes made him hard as hell. He quickly gets your number and gives you a kiss on the cheek before he leaves. He couldn't wait to ruin you.

OH MY GOD CORRUPT HERO DABI IS SUCH A COOL AU PLS

corrupt pro hero!touya who actually gets into lots of trouble (as if he was a villain) but always has his name cleared because of his strong connections and his status. Who does some questionable things when he is off duty, something that doesn’t really fit a hero who is assumed to be righteous. He looks down on others, and his aura is intimidating enough for most people.

Pro hero Touya who is a womaniser, and broken the hearts of many. He’s never been in for serious relationships, getting bored fast and always sleeping around, a total red flag and a man who doesn’t know the value of relationships and love, with superiority complex that he took from his father, someone who’ll do anything to fulfill his ego and reach his pleasures, even if it hurts people.

Touya who suddenly got way too obsessed with a cute little civilian like you who, compared to the other people that would literally give their soul to be around Touya, you didn’t actually care. And that pisses him off, when he notices that his charm and looks don’t actually work on you. But he likes the chase, you surely are playing hard to get, and in the end he always gets anything he wants. He is powerful and he knows it, he has society at the tip of his hands, and you’re nothing but a little mouse in the mids of it.

Touya who stalks you for days, showing up at the most random places, claiming that he is “on duty”, all while his eyes glare at you inappropriately. You feel almost naked under his gaze, as you try to fix your dress, uncomfortable in his presence. Touya who saves you, while you were at risk of getting hit by a car. His hand wraps around your waist, as he keeps you close to his body.

“You hurt?” he says, making sure you’re alright.

“I’m fine.. thank you for saving me” you say trying to back off, but he doesn’t let go. Touya keeps you in place, both your bodies almost sticked together.

“I’ve saved your life twice so far..” he says, amusement in his tone. “Isn’t it about time you make it up to me, dollface? Maybe a little reward for my hard work, don’t you agree? M’not asking for much y’know~”

And that’s how he got you coming over to his place, right after both of you dined together. Despite the fact that you refused, the way he insisted, used sweet words to change your mind, made actually give in. You can already tell that this man is no good news, yet another part of you ignored it, thinking that he is a hero, you should be safest with him.. right?

No.

Not when he locks the door, and his behaviour changes. Not when he starts getting closer to you, the teasing comments he was throwing here and there about to become reality as his warm hand goes up your thigh, slowly, making you shiver.

“Tch- Don’t act like you didn’t want this” he grins, gently biting your ear while his hand proceeds to go to risky places. “Looking at me with those doe eyes, wearing those slutty dresses the whole time I was on duty. You’re way too obvious, babe..and you still love playing hard to get”

Touya who is a hero, but fucks like he kills, he has you screaming and crying to the point your throat goes sore. He lets out all the frustration you had caused him all this time by playing your little games, by keeping him depraved and thirsty, but the wait was worth it, because your sweet pussy is heaven on earth, nothing like the other sluts he has fucked before, your moans are music to his ears, your pretty face and your expressions while he fucks deep inside of you… he is getting addicted.

Touya who after a while of keeping you around and using you as his personal fuckdoll, finally announces his ‘relationship’ with you to the public, as he kisses you and grabs your ass right in front of the paparazzi. Whether you wanted it or not, you now ended up famous, a top hero’s girlfriend, who nicely spreads her legs and warms his bed every night.

[leverage-ot3]

time for the obligatory post about what episodes I want to see in the upcoming leverage season(s)

(for reference, I made this similar post in 2020 after the reboot was announced. I'm pasting some from that post bc I still want them to happen lol)

new ideas:

I mentioned a date night episode in the last post (apollo really did bless me with foresight for the date night job on that one) but for considerment: ot3 date night. possibly their first date night after they all get together. breanna and sophie know it's happening (harry is, like, peripherally aware) and some crime hijinks are going down and the three of them are frantically trying to stop bad things from happening that are going to interfere with the date. I want to see them going through it behind the metaphorical curtain. I want to see breanna fighting for her life trying to out-hack the hacker that is going to ruin their ten-part itineraried date. harry has to get in a fistfight and eliot is so proud about it when he finds out after everything is over

tree law episode. harry has been frothing at the mouth about it since it was made. his life has been moving him towards this penultimate moment. breanna thinks it's HILARIOUS and cheers him on 100% of the way. she is VERY enthusiastic about this con

I'm not going to mention certain things because I've seen jrogers posting on bluesky social and I know he might be already writing some of those plots

con that the food trucks have plot-relevance. like, one of his food truck stations is being harassed /victimized by, like, a local gang or something that takes advantage of food truck/cart workers and the team steps in. the actual (veteran) food truck workers get involved in the con. leverage international might just have gained a few retainer members

quinn should come back for an episode. I know the actor is friends with ckane. they should make it happen because it would be iconic and I said so

on a similar note, ckane is friends with jensen ackles and. guys. wouldn't it- wouldn't it be extremely funny if a flame from eliot's past named sean sylvester who is a rugged drifter with a questionable past

episode where tara or maggie (or BOTH, can you imagine how powerful that would be???) come back and there is slight flirting with sophie possibly??? that or very obvious chemistry from a past tryst. sophie has slept with both of them, I know it in my heart of hearts. bonus points if tara and maggie fall in love (I think it would be funny. maggie's taste in men is canonically atrocious, I think she deserves someone like tara at this point)

I just want a lot of side characters to come back, okay? sue me I miss them

gonna put the rest under the cut since this post has become obscenely long

not episode-specific, but I want more mentions of the korean leverage team. and all the other teams too! we know that in canon there is the south korean one, the nigerian one, and one in london (I think that's it for mentions so far, but correct me if I'm wrong!)

episodes addressing issues with american imperialism and its effects on minorities and marginalized communities, specifically within this country (there aren't a lot of episodes where they are actively out of country)

dear fucking god take a more abolitionist stance on policing I'm begging. would it KILL you to not be weird about cops? pls just punch some more cops. take down white supremacist cops, I'm sure you can scrounge something up bffrrn

women's rights episodes. I know it's kind of recent, but episodes about accessibility of stuff like birth control, abortion access, etc. y'all are capable of making excellent episodes on that I know it

more climate crisis-related episodes. god knows you're feeling it in the deep south

taking down a corrupt megachurch pastor (although lbr, there is no ethical megachurch anything and you can fight me on this)

something to do with ace rights bc I think it would be really cool to see the team advocate for that stuff, especially since breanna is canon ace

helping a polycule that is being victimized by X organization/entity (maybe a housing association or medical or something???). breanna is bombastic side-eyeing the ot3 the entire time. it is making hardison sweat. sophie thinks it's hilarious

taking down 'writers' that use ai and self-publish AND/OR people that take original/fan works off of like ao3 and wattpad and publish them for personal profits without the author's consent. breanna would have a field day with this (god herself could try to convince me that girl does not read/write fanfic and I wouldn't believe it)

episode about underfunded public schools. we saw corrupt private schools in the fairy godparents job but I want an episode that would make abbot elementary writers proud

episode addressing native/indigenous. eliot is from oklahoma, I'm sure he is well aware of the health/job/economic/etc disparities on reservations. I will email jrogers about it myself if I have to- it anyone can get people going about native rights through a tv show it would be leverage.

I sent an ask to wil wheaton once asking if he was open to returning to leverage and I think he said he would be down for it. but chaos either has to be a reluctant ally to leverage international and is being handled by quinn as a hitter OR he is just. in jail. bc he sucks.

bpas and/or pfas episode. breanna has mentioned microplastics before but I want more

the team tears the shit out of conversion therapy camp owners and plants the seeds for legislation that will punish parents that try to send their kids to those hellscapes

while we're at it, I'd love to see an ep where they tackle the trans bathroom issue. god knows the news doesn't talk about it nearly enough

something to do with foster care. they end up starting some sort of foster care network that past clients/allies can take part in. maybe a mentorship program for kids that want to do what they do one day (they are very reluctant to encourage kids to participate in crime BUT if that is the avenue that they are going to inevitably go towards, they guide them in the right direction). nana makes an appearance (*insert 'everybody liked that' meme*)

prison industrial complex episode. I KNOW we had the jailhouse job BUT we really need this in our year of 2024

another episode on corrupt influencers. maybe influencer parents? dear god pls take them down a notch

ep where there is an underlying message that tells you how to avoid becoming victim to scams or something, or like is a tutorial for how to identify scams you might fall victim to (sorry, I just have to say this after two separate people tried to pig butcher me in less than two (2) weeks))

not to say I want them to do an ep calling out cop city, but it would feel really good to watch the leverage team rip that concept to SHREDS

the minimum wage job. need I say more? we deserve the catharsis

pls go after goodwill execs, esp the ones in the pnw that have their sector as for-profit and have become millionaires+ because of it while paying their staff (especially disabled staff) fucking pennies

while we're on the topic, pls call out salvation army (the corporation)

I can probably go on for like five hours so I'll stop here

ep that we get to see harry and his daughter bond :)

job where they get to lower the price of insulin (and other drugs)

actually, you know what? an episode where the crew annihilates big pharma and terrible insurance companies

I think that breanna should be able to go off about mass/over consumption as a treat. I 100% believe she has Thoughts about it. like, she will absolutely call out the corporations that are responsible for these trends, but also she should be allowed to mention our tendency for overconsumption as a society. obviously there are a few corporations that are doing most of the world's pollution/ecological damage, but we should be doing our part too and I KNOW it would be in-character for her to go off on it

I bet she has a LOT to say about influencers, tbh. obviously not all influencers are bad, but there are sooooo many problematic ones and problems within the influencer industry

sizing discrimination in the modeling/clothing industry. let eliot talk about how there are no perfect bodies. also while I'm on the subject, can we PLS have more body-diverse background actors on the show? I know this is nitpicky but I'd really love to see some more people that look like me, even if they are just in the background

a thinly veiled writers' rights episode (I'm looking at you media execs and the stupid amount of time it took for you to comply to the WGA demands)

something to do with media companies making entire movies/tv shows and then fucking cancelling them/not releasing them and using them as tax write-offs. every time it happens it baffles me. that is cartoonishly stupid villain shit. I can't imagine lovingly working on a project for a year plus and then the company just going, nah, we aren't going to release it because you suck and it's a good business move

ai art and ai in general. please. let it BURN

okay now I'm done

ideas from the previous post that I still want:

comicon job. I said it before and I will say it again- we deserve it!!! come on, it's the age of the geek after all!!! (in the last post I also said a ren faire ep, but I will let the card game job count for that)

summer camp ep? I saw a tumblr fic about it and I think it could be cute. it could kinda be like the fairy godparents job- eliot in charge of some type of sports (archery, fencing, etc), hardison would be in charge of arts and crafts (this boy might be a genius with tech and in general tbh, but the show did such a good job of showing that he’s also very talented with the arts- sculpting the statue for the miracle job, forging the old diary in the king george job, etc), parker would LOVE to be in charge of a high ropes course. breanna would totally be down for some sort of nerdy kid robotics or simple, traditional camp games (can't go wrong with the classics. everyone loves making bracelets!) I feel like it's too stereotypical to have sophie have kids put on a play but we all know that's exactly what she would do. idk for harry? I think he has the same traditional camp activities vibe as breanna. he's in it for the nostalgia. OR something to do with videogames

please, please, please, please, please make an episode where they take down a cult, im begging. that would be such a good episode. definitely a mindfuck episode like the experimental job (4x11). I’ve seen a few posts about a job dealing with a cult (here’s one) and I think it would be really interesting 

MORE STERLING being DONE with leverage shenanigans!!! give me feral!sterling like in the frame-up job (5x10)!!! give me sterling that protests every step of the way but conveniently looks away and “whoops, the team just disappeared, I have no idea how that happened!!! diddly dang darn it, they got away again!!! sorry guys!!!” bonus points if mcsweeten is there too and also participates in intervening hijinks

the team takes down a circus that is still using and abusing wild animals!!! because first I’d LOVE to see acrobat!parker swinging up in the air like a pro and being in her element, but also because those places are the fucking worst and need to Go Down. give me eliot having to pose as an animal trainer with deep sympathy for the animals being abused, quietly talking soothing words to them when he thinks no one is around (correction: hardison is, in fact, around, and filming his boyfriend’s softness to save for later). give me charismatic hardison playing the role of ringmaster, running and flaunting about and being passive-aggressive to the circus master. give me eliot freeing the animals from their chains when they are finally able to shut the place down and relocate the animals to sanctuaries (his hands shaking just a little as twists the key in the lock, because he too was once an abused, caged animal in his own right and he knows how liberating it is to finally be free). 

[ellieluvr420]

We meet again, darling pt.20 (detective Abby Anderson x criminal reader x detective Ellie Williams)

Synopsis: Abby Anderson is a skilled detective that's never let a criminal escape her grasp, until you. You've infiltrated every part of her life and she still can't get you. As she grows more and more intrigued by you she finds herself descending further into darkness until there's no way back. She takes your hand and follows you as if your presence is the only thing giving her life knowing that you are the most dangerous thing for her. Her life will never be hers again and she will stop at nothing to keep following you down your path of corruption.

Violence!! I mean obvi but just so you know LOL

OMG cannot believe the series is actually over. I'm kind of sad tbh but i already have plans for an epilogue that i am rlly excited to start. Now that this series is basically done if you have any requests for me to write or even any questions in general pls lmkkkk bc u guys are so cute to chat to I love it <3

You’re woken by someone slapping your face a couple times, your head throbs and every muscle in your body aches, it’s quiet where you are except for the inhaling of a cigar and the sound of drops of water hitting the floor periodically. You keep your eyes closed until you feel a hand pinching your nose and lips shut. Your eyes fly open only to be greeted with the Met bosses face once again, once he sees you're awake he lets go allowing you to catch your breath. Your arms are handcuffed to a pole above your head and your tiptoes are barely touching the floor, you feel a drop of water land on your head and look up to see the pipe you’re handcuffed to is leaking, as your eyes adjust to the dark lighting of the room you take in your surroundings, a basement you assume with no windows but you can’t see any stairs, only a door out of the room that seemed hundred of miles away.

“Good, you’re awake. Didn’t want you to miss any of this of course.” He smiles sickeningly and your face remains completely emotionless. You watch as he walks over to a table in the corner of the room and you notice the various tools: a taser, a knife, what looks like a big lighter but a small blow torch, there are other things but you can’t make them out from where you’re stood. He follows your eye-line and chuckles as he walks to the table where he picks up the knife. “All you have to do is beg sweetheart and I won’t ruin that pretty face of yours.

“Stop stalling like a little bitch and get on with it already.”

“Stubborn�� I like it.” He takes the cigar from his mouth and presses it to the part of your chest that escaped from under your top. You hiss but bite your tongue, you won’t let him enjoy this. He looks at you to elicit your response and his face grows unamused by your lack of a reaction. He takes the knife and drags it down one of your arms, again you focus all of your energy on not reacting which only angers him more. He violently slashes at your cheek and a small squeak leaves your lips more out of shock than anything else. You feel the warm drips of crimson dripping down your arm and you see a small puddle gathering below you, the cuts were deep but not life threatening so you brace yourself for more of this.

“You know you heard that story of me killing a man’s wife?” He huffs at your calmness.

“Yes.”

“I heard stories about your wife too. Where is she?“ His face grows dark and he punches you in the mouth, the taste of iron fills your mouth and your dart your tongue out to feel the tear in your lip that was the source of the blood.

“Shut your mouth you little cunt.” He storms over to the table and grabs both the taser and the lighter. You hold your breath in anticipation until he holds the small blowtorch at the arm that he hadn’t cut. You screeched at the sensation and started to thrash until you heard the sound of the taser being turned on, before you can react it’s being pressed to your stomach. You feel as if every nerve in your body is being set on fire at the same time as you convulse with the electric current, he doesn’t remove it for at least 5 seconds and by the time he does you're slumped as much as the handcuffs will allow, everything is spinning and your vision is shaky at best.

“You sent your wife to jail for your crimes. You’re a coward.” The look on his face was indescribable, you knew you had him where you wanted him.

Abby and Ellie were racing through the streets in Abby’s car following the gps to where your location said you were. Abby had slipped a tracker into your bag when you said you’d be going to kill the Met boss on your own. She knew you’d be angry at her for using one of your own trackers on you but she didn’t care, all she cared about was your safety. Her heart was in her throat and her mouth was dry as she drove as fast as her car could take her to you.

Ellie had messaged you to tell you that she’d be at Abby’s so Jeremy knew to pick her up from there but when the message went unanswered both their nerves spiked, Abby had been watching the stationary tracker since you got there but her nerves only got the best of her when it had been an hour and you still hadn’t moved.

“Get out of the fucking way.” Abby yelled at the drivers in front of her, not that it had an effect. There was traffic everywhere and she felt sick at the thought of you not being okay, she left a symphony of car horns honking behind her as she cut people off left right and centre.

“Abby up here take a left, we’re not that far now.” Abby spins the wheel to the left and the car skids round the corner. As they reached the destination your tracker said you were they both grabbed their hand guns that had silencers on them and jumped out.

They approached the house quietly and checked to see if the door was open but weren’t surprised to find it was locked, they walked round the back of the house and found an open window to climb through. They crept through the house checking each room with Abby leading and Ellie following behind watching their backs. They open a door to see 3 men sitting at a table playing poker and before the men could say anything Abby shot all three, they all fell and Abby took a step further into the room only to see you weren’t there either. She whipped her head round when she heard the quiet click followed by the subsequent whoosh of Ellie’s gun being fired twice, she rushed out to see two men dead on the floor on top of each other. Abby looked at Ellie who was just staring at them.

“You okay?”

“Yeah come on we gotta keep going.” Abby took the lead once again until they reached some stairs leading downwards. Abby turned to look at Ellie and they both shared the same look of hope and desperation. “I’m gonna go down there, stay here and keep watch?”

“Yeah yeah go.”

He lurched at you and as he got close enough you kneed him hard in the crotch and then pulled on the chain of your handcuffs and jumped upwards, you gripped your thighs round his neck and squeezed with all your might. He thrashed around but it only made you squeeze tighter, you watched as his lips turned blue and his eyes bulged out of his head, bloodshot and wide with fear. You squeezed harder one last time until you see the light fade from his eyes and feel him go limp against you, you untangled your legs from his neck and watched in amusement as he crumpled to the floor, it was only after watching him for a peaceful moment that you realised you were now stuck dangling from this pipe. You yank at it but it doesn’t budge unsurprisingly.

“Fuck.”

You’re standing staring at the unconscious man on the floor contemplating where to go from here when you hear a loud bash against the door, and another and another until the door slammed open as the wood splintered and cracked. You were sure it was one of his men but when you saw Abby standing in the doorway staring back at you and the man before you with a look that could only be described as relief your body relaxed and you exhaled the breath you hadn't realised you were holding.

“We came to help you but it looks like you’ve got everything covered here.” She gestures at the man on the floor and you laugh a little, the adrenaline that had been powering you was slowly dissipating and every movement hurt, you winced and she came rushing towards you.

“I actually had no idea what I was going to do from here so thank you.”

“Oh my god, did you just say… thank you?”

“Shut up and help me down.”

“There’s my girl.” She chuckles and starts looking around for something to get the handcuffs off but comes up unlucky. “Fuck it.” She grabs a crowbar she found and starts bashing it on the pipe until the section you’re attached to comes loose from the section next to it which sends you falling to the ground, though Abby catches you before you can. As she’s helping you to lean against her Ellie bursts into the room, the look of pure happiness as she sees you is wiped away by devastation evident all over her face when she notices your condition: a swollen cheekbone painted with purple and black as well as a small cut where the skin was broken open from the large ring you noticed on the man's finger, a split lip and a thick cut across your other cheekbone that was still dripping blood down your face, the circular burn mark on your chest and the large seeping cut going down your arm. She noticed the puddle of blood on the floor as well as the way you were trembling and her heart shattered at the sight.

“Come on we need to get out of here.” Ellie sounds rushed and Abby immediately scoops you into her arms, you put your still handcuffed hands over her head so you could hold onto her neck and her arms sat snug under the backs of your knees and around your back, encasing you in her arms.

“You ready?”

“No, I need to kill him.”

“Fine.” Abby puts you down but still keeps you propped up against her side, you grab the knife and the taser and kneel over him, jabbing the taser straight into his crotch and turning it on until he woke up, when he met your eyes you smiled and blew him a kiss, which looked a little comical because of the handcuffs still around your wrists, before slitting his throat from ear to ear, blood splattered out all over you and you felt euphoric. He choked and squirmed but as he went still and the life drained from his face you nodded at Abby and she scooped you up once again. Ellie stayed in front of you two as you rushed out of the house, by the time you reached Abby’s car your vision was blurry and everything was spinning, your injuries were catching up to you and you just wanted to sleep.

“El get in the back with her.” Abby placed you gently into the back of the car and Ellie followed suit as Abby jumped in the drivers seat and sped away back to yours.

Ellie gently manoeuvred you so you were leaning on her chest between her legs. You hadn’t noticed she was crying until you felt a tear drop onto your face from where she was hovering above you.

“Don’t cry, I’m okay.” Your voice was croaky and barely there but she heard you and nodded. She looked at Abby through the rearview mirror and saw the same worried expression knitted into Abby’s eyebrows.

“Can either of you do stitches?” They both stopped their tasks, Abby treating your burns with the first aid kit you had and Ellie cleaning the cuts that littered your body.

“Seriously?” Abby questioned.

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal if you can’t I just hate doing them on myself.”

“You are not giving yourself stitches.” Abby sounded annoyed but her face was a picture of disbelief.

“I’ve done it before and I did a first aid training course when I was 17. I’ll be fine.” You go to sit up but feel Ellie’s hand gently pushing you back down.

“Just stay still please, I will get you the stuff to do the stitches.” Ellie’s voice is soft but firm and you decide to listen considering all they did for you today. Ellie goes to the first aid kit and brings back everything you need. "Before I give this to you, I have to ask, how long ago were you 17?" You roll your eyes at her before realising what she was saying.

"Are you asking me how old I am?"

"Yes." Abby answers for her.

"I am 33. You're 36." You point at Abby then at Ellie. "And you're 34. Now can I please have that?" You gesture at the medical equipment in Ellie's hand with the finger that was already pointed in her direction, she hands it to you as Abby and her nod at each other in triumph that they finally got the answer to the question they were both wondering about earlier.

They both watch in horror as you stitch your cuts as quickly as you can, once you’re done you all breathe a sigh of relief and you sit quietly processing everything that happened today.

“How did you know where I was?” Abby’s cheeks immediately redden and she looks like a guilty child as she avoids eye contact.

“I tracked you.” You pause, taken aback but a smile grows on your face that even you take a second to register.

“Thank you. Both of you, you saved me from myself today. I shouldn’t have went alone but my arrogance is a fatal flaw.”

“You? Flawed? Pshhhh.” Ellie responds and your quirk an eyebrow at her. You all laugh and once they’ve finished treating your wounds they come to lay down next to you.

"Abby can you pass me my phone please I need to make some calls."

"I think you should rest."

"I will, but I need to ring Jeremy quickly. We need a plane to catch tomorrow don't we?"

"You can book us onto the next flight tomorrow." Ellie chimes in.

"I'm not booking a flight, I need Jeremy to make sure the jet is ready to fly tomorrow."

"The jet?" They say in unison.

"Do you actually think I would fly on a public plane? How would I even do that when I'm officially dead?" They laugh at the snobby tone of your voice but also realised you had a point. Abby gets your phone for you and you ring Jeremy to explain, he confirms everything will be ready for you tomorrow so you thank him and end the call.

"I hope you've had fun in the city because we are never coming back."

"Anywhere with you is better." Abby whispers.

"We'd follow you to the ends of the earth." Ellie adds.

You don't reply, simply choosing to kiss both their lips but all you keep thinking, with a sick smile on your face, is:

'I know.'