#remember that stalking is very bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ctrlhope · 9 months ago

Text

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire.

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway.

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums.

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is.

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass.

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath.

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god.

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety.

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of.

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper.

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed.

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor.

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene.

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath.

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on.

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced.

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain.

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time.

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe.

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that.

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should.

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind.

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face.

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again.

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want?

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you.

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action.

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone.

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful.

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again.

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before.

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height.

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive.

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way.

You think you dislike the feeling.

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart.

“I suppose so.”

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel.

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down.

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you.

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead.

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment.

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants.

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you.

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage.

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it.

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady.

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top.

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it.

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely.

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens.

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon.

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions.

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status.

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive.

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything.

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones.

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs.

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one.

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter.

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons.

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor.

You simply shake your own.

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again.

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is.

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation.

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace.

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks.

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.”

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?”

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design.

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world.

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.”

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before.

Ah. It all makes sense now.

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.”

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him.

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut.

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.”

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.”

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement.

“Good.”

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest.

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest.

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable.

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall.

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway.

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them.

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms.

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why.

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status.

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that.

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught.

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back.

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before.

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion.

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy.

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being.

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place.

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam.

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features.

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic.

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.”

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms.

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.”

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone.

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.”

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.”

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is.

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too.

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.”

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.”

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right.

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown.

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother.

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise.

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white.

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing.

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares.

If he does, he doesn’t show it.

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips.

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast.

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them.

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him.

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head.

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more.

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.”

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.”

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway.

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night.

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible.

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions.

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined.

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach.

Why did he know your name?

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in.

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages.

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby.

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort.

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else.

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath.

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne.

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that.

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths.

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position.

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door.

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster.

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears.

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen.

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess.

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away.

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading.

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!”

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before.

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls.

“And what am I meant to do?”

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!”

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart.

At least that is what you hope.

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents.

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month.

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible.

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid.

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake.

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend.

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered.

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–”

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own.

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own.

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people.

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain.

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance.

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible.

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire.

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems.

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.”

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales.

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body.

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction.

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer.

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would.

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–”

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.”

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut.

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear.

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone.

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge.

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else.

That is the only logical solution, at least.

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well.

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week.

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect.

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can.

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name.

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior.

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has.

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away.

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor.

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form.

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being.

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose.

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them.

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for.

You reach to spray your second favourite perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand.

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible.

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can.

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you. It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed.

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn.

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it.

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it.

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open.

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you.

The future king would be a fearsome thing.

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore.

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…”

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…”

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of.

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse.

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape.

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it.

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you.

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof.

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal.

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore.

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?”

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room.

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt?

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country?

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft.

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft.

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever.

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.”

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment.

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh!

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?”

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable.

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before.

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine.

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you.

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.”

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day.

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own.

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself.

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.”

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?!

Oh heavens, oh gods.

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be!

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place.

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long.

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating.

“What…?”

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.”

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again.

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order.

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him.

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare.

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory.

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do.

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it.

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core.

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.”

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest.

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself.

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen.

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–”

“Taehyung.”

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth.

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well.

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly.

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more.

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours.

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own.

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it.

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body.

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse.

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince.

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste.

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own.

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him.

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him.

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well.

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever.

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.”

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him.

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.”

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god.

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left.

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort.

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core.

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal.

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being.

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else.

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting.

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige.

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him.

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you.

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth.

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal.

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything.

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life.

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible.

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting.

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit.

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt.

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact.

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering.

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue.

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him.

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high.

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle.

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form.

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled.

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them.

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt.

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place.

He will not have you running away.

Not now.

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters.

He is.

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows.

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels.

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality.

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good.

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through.

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want.

“Please.”

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you.

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for.

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it.

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity.

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes.

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more.

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk.

So sensitive. So ready for him.

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet.

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck.

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls.

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take.

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock.

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort.

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there.

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity.

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more.

He is falling apart before you, because of you.

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.”

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs.

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.”

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly.

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused.

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop.

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.”

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him.

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit.

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.”

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him.

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul.

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him.

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!”

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more.

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body.

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!”

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter.

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?”

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by.

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him.

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel.

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore.

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck.

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment.

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.”

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe.

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide.

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise.

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing.

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body.

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright.

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already.

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire.

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you.

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases.

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games.

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it.

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night.

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you.

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time.

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him.

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth.

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

4K notes · View notes

fanfic-obsessed · 1 month ago

Text

Jason Drake

Ok I have one for you that I think is hilarious to think about.

As always expect no cannon here.

It starts a month or two after Tim Drake, age 9, started to take pictures of Batman and Robin (Still Dick Grayson). Tim very much wants a sibling, but has not gathered the courage to ask his parents.

He is out, taking pictures, thinking about how he wants a sibling as his path crosses Jason Todd (six months homeless). Tim takes this as a sign and, over the course of about three weeks, lures Jason home (treating him much like a feral cat). Once Jason is safely in Drake Manor, Tim semi- forcibly (Jason is not against it per say, but is a little confused) adopts him.

Tim’s hacking is good enough that he is able to get back dated adoption records, a news announcement, Two interviews with Jack and Janet Drake about adopting Jason (credited to a journalist who died a month later in a rogue attack) inserted into all the correct places, and got Jason enrolled in Gotham Academy with Tim (backdated the enrollment records too).

They live together in Drake manor for four months before Tim’s parents get back. Tim straight up gaslights them. Without even flinching “What do you mean you don’t remember Jason?” and “Of course Jason has been here for years, here’s the interview you did” and “Adopting him was such good optics for the company”

And it works (By the by, Mrs. Mac fully supports Tim’s slow abduction and adoption of Jason and is pleased to lie to the Drake parents about it).

Within two days Janet Drake is half convinced that Jack tricked her into adopting his illegitimate son. They go to a gala and, due to elite Gothamite weirdness, no one is willing to admit they had never met the older Drake boy before, Jason playing along seamlessly. By the time the Drakes leave again, Janet is congratulating herself on convincing Jack to take in his illegitimate child (who has impeccable grades, and apparently inherited her appreciation for literature) to accompany her son. Particularly since Jason was good enough to understand that Tim was the Drake industry heir.

Jack tends to hyper focus on archaeology and lives in a near constant state of ‘That sounds fake, but I don’t know enough to dispute it’. Loves his family though. Janet accidentally convinces him that Jason must be his, never mind that Janet was his highschool sweetheart and the only person he had ever had sex with. He is not stupid, but is used to being around his genius wife and son and not understanding how they reach their correct conclusions. So just goes with it.

Both boys go out to watch/take pictures of/ stalk Batman and Robin. A few years after Dick becomes Nightwing, Stephanie is adopted by Bruce and becomes Robin. Meanwhile two unknown vigilantes, BlueJay and Ketu (named for the Hindu Winged Serpent that represent Karmic collections both good and bad) start to operate solely in Crime Alley and seem to make a game of evading the Bats and Birds.

Jason and Tim Drake take a particular interest in bettering Crime Alley, creating outreach programs and hiring for Drake industries and education programs with their parents' bemused backing (When Jason is 16 and Tim is 14, Tim discovers that several of the board members had been embezzling funds and prove it. The resulting shakeup still leaves Janet and Jack in charge on paper, but their instructions are ‘do whatever Jason and Tim say’)

#batman #Tim Drake #Jason TodD #Jason Todd is a Drake #janet drake #jack drake

1K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 1 month ago

Text

Title: Reciprocal.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (+Scaramouche) [Genshin].

Word Count: 4.4k.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

TW: Modern AU, AFAB!Reader, Non/Con, Oral Sex, Slight Corruption Kink, Cucking, Mentions of Blood/Violence, Obsessive Behavior, Implied Stalking, Reader and Scaramouche Are In A Long-Term Relationship, and Nonconsensual Drug Use. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Not a lot of people really understood why you loved your boyfriend as much as he loved you.

Not to say you didn’t get why. You knew he came off – rough, brash, jarring apathetic at best and openly antagonistic at worst. He was jealous, and childish, and you’d chided him more times than you could possibly count for arguing with your friends and picking fights with strangers and generally treating the world like a malicious, erratic entity that’d either take you away from him or turn you against him if given even the slightest chance. He wasn’t possessive, or over-protective, just… worried. In a line of work like his, he had a good reason to be, but that wasn’t exactly something you could explain to other people.

Kuni was aggressive, and loud, and disruptive. But, he was kind, too, and he had a soft spot for kids and animals, and he knew how to be gentle with you, even though you’d never taken the time to teach him. He bristled and pouted when you mentioned doing something without him, sure, but he’d never put his fist through a wall or pretended he could ever spend any amount of time mad at you, even if he didn’t like the things that took you away from him. His job was dangerous, and he had a right to be paranoid, but it didn’t matter how much of a drooling, snapping guard dog he made himself out to be to the rest of the world – not when he came home and fell into your arms, as docile and as loving as a housecat. Most importantly, Kuni loved you, and that was enough for you to love him just as much.

Hence why you panicked when you woke up hours past midnight to an empty apartment, the space next to you cold where your Kuni should’ve warmed it. Hence why you didn’t think twice before getting out of bed when you noticed an unread text sent from Kuni, asking you to meet him at his coworker’s apartment, vaguely hinting at an injury bad enough to keep him from coming straight home to you. Hence why you were now on that coworker’s doorstep, barely dressed and still holding your breath, in the middle of the night. Because you knew that Kunikuzushi loved you.

And, unfortunately, you loved him too.

You’d already knocked – twice, in fact – but you couldn’t hold still. You checked your phone. You tried to call Kunikuzushi, but to no avail – cutting straight to his voicemail after the first ring. You glanced to either side, wary of having to explain yourself to any passing residents before remembering that you were standing in front of the door to a penthouse in a building that seemed to balk at the idea of having more than one tenant per floor. Finally, you raised your hand to knock a third time, but the door swung inward before you had a chance. An ocean’s worth of relief washed over you all at once, and mindlessly, you threw yourself forward, wrapping your arms around Kuni’s ne—

“Woah there.” And then, with an airy laugh, “It’s good to see you too, (Y/n).”

You jerked back suddenly enough to throw yourself off-balance, but a pair of hands caught you by the shoulders, keeping you on your feet. For the first time, you thought to glance up, to recognize that the man in front of you was very much not your boyfriend and that you’d had very little reason to believe it would be. It took you a long second of staring blankly at his disheveled ginger hair and startlingly bright eyes for you to place him as ‘Childe’ – Kuni’s coworker, probably the one he complained about the most often. You’d known him as long as you’d known Kuni – met them on the same day, in fact – but the two of you weren’t close. He was the extraverted type, friendly to the point of agitation. The type of person that you felt exhausted after so much as thinking about spending time with, for lack of a kinder way to put it.

That didn’t matter, though. You’d spend the rest of your life singing his praises if he told you that Kuni was alright.

“Childe, where’s K—” You cut yourself, trying to remember what Kuni had asked you to call him around his work-friends. “Where’s Scaramouche?”

Another laugh, this one more full-bodied than the last. “Right, right. You’re just like him – all business, no pleasure.” He stepped back, retreating into his apartment and gesturing for you to follow. “Could you lock the door behind you? We’ve already had a pretty rough night.”

You nodded vacantly, only half-listening as you scuttled into his apartment and hastily slid the most accessible four out of a total six deadbolts into place. Childe walked ahead of you, making his way to an open kitchenette and riffling through his cabinets as he went on. “Sorry for dragging you all the way out here. Normally, I try to keep this place reserved for espionage-purposes only, but tonight was kind of an emergency. I’d give you the details, but—” He flashed you a smile, fishing two mismatched mugs from the highest shelf. “Ignorance is bliss, right?”

It took a remarkable amount of self-restraint not to scream. “Did Scaramouche get hurt?”

“Coffee? Tea? I’ve got wine, too, if you need something stronger.” You crossed your arms over your chest, digging your nails into your sleeves. “Oh, actually, maybe I don’t. Like I said, I’ve got a homier place out of the city, but my younger sister really loves the vi—”

“Childe.” Your tone was curt, cutting. Immediately, he shut his mouth, looking towards you. You sighed, taking pains to emphasize each individual word, as if he wouldn’t hear your desperation unless you all-but spelled it out for him. “Is. My. Boyfriend. Alive?”

Immediately, his expression softened. “Of course, angel – didn’t I mention that? He just got a little banged up. I think he’s still sleeping it off in my bedroom.” Instantly, you crumpled into yourself, shutting your eyes and letting out a deep, relieved exhale. Childe didn’t move to comfort you, but his voice took on a softer undertone – like he was trying to be a little more sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known you’d want to see him right away, but it’s so late, and you seemed so worried, I figured a pick-me-up might be…” He struggled, his head lulling to the side. “…helpful?”

And people wondered why you preferred Kuni. At least he pretended to respect your time.

But, you were in Childe’s home, and he was right – it was very late and you were very, very tired. “…tea would be nice,” you admitted, collapsing into the nearest seat – the stool at a small, impeccably clean bar attached to his kitchen. “Thank you. And I’m sorry, it’s just— It can just be so much, especially with what happened to Signora. The stress gets to me, sometimes.”

Childe hummed. In less than a minute, a mug of hot, murky tea was set in front of you, and you drank greedily – suddenly aware of how strung-out you felt after rushing half-way across the city in the middle of the night. If he cared about your manners (or lack thereof), you couldn’t tell. Childe only grinned as he sat down next to you, propping his chin on his fist. “Honestly, I’m surprised he even told you about all this. My siblings still think I’m a toy salesman.” It was your turn to stifle a laugh. You were so used to Kuni that it was difficult to imagine him passing himself off as anything less than what he was. To a lesser extent, that went for Childe, too. His ‘innocent big brother’ act couldn’t have been very convincing. “It’s amazing that you’ve stayed with him. There aren’t a lot of people who’d put up with that, and Scaramouche doesn’t seem like the appreciative type.”

You shrugged, draining your mug entirely. “He’s hard to read, but he cares about me,” you replied, when you were finished. “The least I could do is care about him, too. Even if I do kinda wish he’d make it a little easier for me.”

Childe didn’t respond, not immediately. When you looked to him, his smile had softened into something more sincere, more sentimental. “Lucky guy,” he muttered, and you were suddenly aware of how long he’d been staring at you. “When you’re all mine, I promise I won’t stay out a second past midnight.”

It took you a moment to catch his phrasing (‘when’ rather than ‘if’), another to process why such a simple slip-up was enough to make your stomach turn. Rather than address it, you let your eyes fall back into your lap and drummed your fingertips nervously against the side of your mug. “…do you think Scaramouche’s awake, yet?”

“Oh, angel.” He leaned toward you, cocking his head to the side. The gesture didn’t seem as innocent as it had a few minutes ago. “You really believed that? And here I thought you just wanted to spend a little more time with me.”

Alright. Cool. Great. Without thinking, you tried to stand, but your body was suddenly uncooperative, less numb and more woefully disobedient. You tried to get your feet on the ground, to grip the edge of the bar, but as soon as you tried to lift your own weight, you crumpled; buckling onto the countertop as Childe watched on, passive and simpering. You tried to open your mouth, to yell, but your jaw suddenly felt so slack, your tongue heavy and beyond your control. It was all you could do to snap towards Childe, your panic silent but more than apparent. He just shook his head, letting out a low whistle as he pushed himself onto his feet.

“Your little boyfriend mentioned that you were a lightweight. I didn’t think it’d be this bad, though.” You felt his arm wrap around your waist, another looping under the bend of your knees. Effortlessly, he lifted you off of your stool and hauled you against his body, your shoulder knocking clumsily into his chest. You felt something nuzzle into the side of your neck, and choose to believe it wasn’t his face. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he muttered, his voice low and his delight palpable. “Try to keep your eyes open. I promise, I won’t do anything unless I know you’re here to enjoy it, too.”

The sentiment provided less comfort than he seemed to think it would.

Your body might’ve been out of your control, but you were still very much conscious and, even worse, very much aware. Your eyes flitted over the blank walls of his apartment as he passed through different rooms and hallways, eventually coming to a door nestled as far from the main body of the apartment as possible. With a shallow grunt, Childe shouldered it open and stepped into a bedroom – this space only slightly more personalized than the rest of his apartment. The walls were still that bland, non-descript grey, the bed sheets a respectable wine red, but you caught a wallet and phone left on the otherwise untouched dresser, the disparate pieces of a blood-stained suit hanging in the closet he’d left open. A few polaroids of a figure you couldn’t make out were piled on the bedside table, and your boyfriend was slumped over in a chair in the far right corner.

…

Okay, so maybe your mind was a little more affected than you’d thought.

Childe hadn’t been lying when he said Kuni got hurt. His shirt was unbuttoned, pushed far back on his shoulders, revealing the bandages wrapped around his shoulder, his side – both visibly damp with fresh blood. More damningly, he was restrained. Even at a glance, you could make out the silver cuff binding his wrists to the arms of his chair, the braided ropes doing the same for his ankles. He’d been gagged, but not blindfolded. You’d never seen his eyes so wide.

No amount of paralytics could’ve stopped you from thrashing against Childe’s loose hold. You squirmed and writhed, kicking weakly at his legs and shoving haphazardly at his chest – doing whatever you could just to get away from him. “K-Kuni,” you called, your voice hoarse and trembling. You heard him try to say something behind his gag, but if it was anything intelligible, it’s meaning was lost behind the buzzing in your ears, the sound of blood rushing through your veins. Childe made a half-hearted attempt to hush you, and you snapped in his direction, baring your teeth. “Let me go, I can’t—He’s hurt—”

“He’s fine, babydoll. Don’t pay him any mind.” You tried to throw your elbow into his stomach, but there was no real force behind the blow – a kitten burrowing its milk teeth into the throat of a lion. “Kuni…” He mumbled as if you hadn’t moved at all. “Is that his real name? You can call me ‘Ajax’, if you want. I don’t mind Childe, though, not when you’re the one saying it.”

You could’ve strangled him. You might’ve if he hadn’t abruptly dropped you, letting your body collapse onto the center of his bed. You made a desperate attempt to scramble to the nearest edge, but you’d barely hauled yourself onto your knees before he was on top of you - his hands around your waist, nudging you gently onto your back. Again, you tried to struggle, but all you managed to scrape up was an airy fractured whimper quickly drowned out by Childe’s laugh, the weight of his body as it slotted against yours. One hand remained on your waist while the other pressed into the mattress next to your head, his chest a hair’s width from making contact with yours. You’d never known Childe very well, and yet, it still surprised you to see just how lifeless his eyes seemed, when you thought to look closely.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the day we met,” he muttered, nearly under his breath. “We were on a job, had some time to kill between clients. He didn’t even notice you, just saw that I was about to get my hands on something I liked and decided to be competitive. I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have let him get to you first.”

He paused, his smile taking on a manic note. “I’ll never let it happen again.”

And then, he was kissing you. Surprisingly, you quickly found that you preferred his rambling. It was messier than it had any right to be, considering he was the only one moving. You liked the way Kunikuzushi kissed you – delicately, tenderly, never quite trepidatious but always careful enough to warrant your active and enthusiastic participation, if you wanted anything more than a quick peck to your cheek. Childe wasn’t Kunikuzushi, though, and he wasn’t careful with you – at least, no more careful than he had to be to make sure his teeth didn’t draw blood as they scraped clumsily over your lips. His tongue raked over yours, and as far as you could tell, he wasn’t happy unless he was on the verge of tearing your jaw from its hinges and making it that much easier for him to crawl inside of you. You were thankful when he finally pulled away, but it was difficult to appreciate the way he panted against the curve of your neck; pressing long open mouthed kisses into vulnerable skin as his hands fumbled with the hem of your top. You tried to sit up, to see Kuni, but you were too weak to speak, let alone move. That might’ve been a small mercy, in retrospect. The last thing you needed to see was the love of your life’s expression while his polar opposite sunk his teeth into your throat.

Your shirt went first – dragged over your head as Childe pulled you into another hasty kiss, this one blessedly short-lived when compared to the first. You’d gotten dressed in a rush, meaning you weren’t wearing anything underneath your shorts, something Childe acknowledged with a sharpened edge to his grin, a hopeful murmur of “All for me?” He pried himself off of you as he worked, settling into the space between your open legs. You heard something heavy and forceful slam into the wall on the other side of Childe’s bedroom, but didn’t process that it must’ve been Kuni for long, blissful minutes.

It was only when you felt his hand cup your cunt that you snapped back into your own mind – your hands darting to his wrist, as if that would be a violent enough protest to stop him. Of course, it wasn’t, and of course, his expression only grew more saccharine as he ran two fingers down the length of your slit, his gazing fixed unblinkingly on the apex of your thighs. “So pretty…” And then, making no attempt to hide his self-satisfaction, “Scara’s never been this nice to you, has he?”

Despite your lack of control, you felt your entire body stiffen. “You can’t—”

“But, angel, I think I have to.” He leaned down, his lips brushing over your navel, then the arch of your pelvic bone. “Can’t just let a pussy this pretty go to waste, now, can I?”

You shut your eyes, but not quickly enough. You still caught the sight of Childe’s hand curling around your thighs, of his tongue lapping over your cunt before everything went dark.

It was difficult to say why you and Kuni never slept together. Part of it was mutual aversion – he was cagey about everything, his body included, and even with more readily intimate partners, you’d never really had an interest in sex, especially if it meant pushing Kuni into something you didn’t want and that he wasn’t comfortable with. You’d been more than happy not to think about it at all, but looking back, you wished you had leaned a little more into it, if only so you weren’t so startled by the heat of Childe’s mouth against your pussy. Immediately, it was too much – your thighs snapping shut around his head as his tongue laved over you, circling your clit, dipping into your entrance. Childe only let a throaty moan, deep enough to leave you clenching your eyes shut that much tighter, gritting your teeth as you swallowed back your reactions – pained or otherwise. There was no way Kuni, your Kuni could’ve ever thought you were enjoying this, but still. You didn’t want to make this any harder for him than it had to be.

(You made a point of not thinking about yourself. You didn’t know if you’d be able to survive this, if you made the mistake of considering how you were supposed to live with yourself when it was over.)

For all his talk, he couldn’t have had much experience. He was experimental, overeager – never satisfied with abusing your clit or attempting to fuck his tongue into you when he could be splitting his attention between both. Eventually, one of his hands fell away from your thigh, his middle and ring fingers slipping into your (admittedly, humiliatingly accommodating) entrance and splitting apart, adding yet another sensation to the list of things you’d spend the rest of your life trying to forget. You wanted to cover your face, to pry his head out of the space between your thighs, but lifting your arms seemed like a Herculean task, and the most you could manage was digging your nails into the bed sheets and hoping, praying that it would be over soon.

It was a few seconds later that, with a bittersweet tinge, you realized you’d get what you wanted.

Childe was sloppy, but effective – a soldier left untrained but devoted to the cause, nonetheless. You felt something alien and amorphous tighten in your lower stomach, a new pressure joining the hollow weight in your chest as he curled his fingers and found something sensitive, something vulnerable, something easy to exploit. It would’ve been better to brace yourself, to pretend it wasn’t happening at all, but panic instantly overshadowed your sense of logic, and your mouth was open before you had a chance to stop yourself. “Don’t,” you spat, reaching out blindly, your hand finding his hair. This time, his reaction was less of a moan and more of a growl. “Please, stop, stop—”

If he cared whether you were begging him to get away from you or singing his praises, you couldn’t tell. He seemed to melt, nuzzling into the plush of your thigh while burying his face that much deeper into your cunt. You could feel his smirk bite into your skin as his lips sealed around your clit and sucked. Instantly, you were thrown over the ledge; your body stiffening as your vision burnt white behind your eyelids. It was a miracle that you managed not to moan, but the prolonged, wavering whine that was forced out of you instead wasn’t much better.

Your self-restraint was a miracle, and Childe’s impatience was a mercy. He drew back hastily, his mouth finding the inside of your thigh, then the jut of your hipbone – eager to keep some part of you pressed against some part of him at all times. It would’ve been more bearable if that kept his mouth too busy to talk, and yet, he still found a way to strip you of even that comfort. “So good for me,” he mumbled, interrupted constantly by his own desperate need to suck and lap at every softened, tender spot you had. “I knew he had to be neglecting you, no way someone like him could ever take care of something like this. You don’t have to worry – I’m not gonna be that mean to you. I couldn’t, even I wanted to.” He paused, bowing his head and stifling a laugh. “Don’t think I could ever go another day without taking care of that pretty pussy.”

But, his altruism proved short-lived. With a raspy groan, he pulled away from you, allowing just enough distance for the sound of shifting fabric and the sudden heat of something vile and unthinkable to fill the space. Again, you were talking before you could stop yourself – as if you hadn’t already tried asking him not to. As if the sound of your voice had done anything but spur him on. “Please don’t, I’m not—I haven’t—” And then, meeting his prying gaze, as every thought seemed to catch and stick in your throat, “I’ve never done this before, Ajax.”

He stopped moving above you, but his eyes never broke away from yours. “You’re a virgin?”

It seemed so juvenile when he said it aloud, so trivial. Reluctantly, you nodded.

Impossibly, his expression seemed to brighten.

He was so annoyingly vocal. There was another soft groan as he straightened his back, a grunt with no real strain behind it as he pulled your limp body into his arms. You almost let yourself relax as he carried you off of the bed and across the bedroom, but any relief you might’ve been able to feel evaporated in an instant as he all-but dropped you in front of Kunikuzushi, now rigid in his restraints. You could see dried tear tracks tracing lines down his cheeks, a hostile grimace in the corner of his lips. He must’ve been crying, but he wasn’t anymore. That was good. You’d always hated seeing Kuni cry.

Unable to support yourself, you started falling towards him, but Childe was there to catch you – his arm winding around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “You’re so perfect,” he muttered, before looking toward Kuni. “Be thankful. You’ve got the best seat in the house.”

There was a second of stilted silence, a reassuring squeeze to your side. Distantly, you felt Childe bury his face in the crook of your neck and drag you flush against him, aligning the head of his leaking cock with your entrance. His hips ground into your ass in a reflexive, sort of bucking motion, and just like that, he was inside of you.

You heard Childe’s breath catch, then a whimper in your own voice. At the same time, something cracked, and you noticed that Kuni was gripping the arm of his chair with enough force to splinter the wood. You hoped he wouldn’t hurt himself.

Childe proved to be tragically energetic. With another partner, your paralysis might’ve made things difficult, but he seemed more than happy to bounce you in his lap, grinding and thrusting into you from below in turns, moaning and mewling whenever your traitorous body tightened around him. Again, you found yourself wishing that you’d rushed Kuni just a little more – if only so you’d be better at blocking out the feeling of defined veins grinding against the walls of your cunt, of his considerable size stretching you to your limits. His hands were everywhere – kneading at your chest, groping for purchase near your waist, rubbing quick, tight, awful little circles into your clit – but you did your best not to care, not to react, not to acknowledge the airy gasps and miserable sobs trickling past your lips every time Childe’s body pressed flat against yours. You could hear him talking, something about ‘the next nine months’ and ‘loving husband’, but the specifics were lost on you. You’d never been able to stand the sound of his voice, and tonight hadn’t done much to endear you to it.

His climax (and, by extension, yours) was embarrassing. Best not to mention it.

The sound of Childe’s panting filled the room, only occasionally accompanied by your little, pitiful cries. His grip loosened at some point, most likely to let him admire the way his cum dripped from your entrance where it was still stretched around his cock, and only half-intentionally, you lulled into Kuni’s lap, crossing your arms over his legs and staring blankly at his beautiful face. It took a few tries, but eventually, you managed to reach up and hook your thumb around his gag, pulling it down with some effort. As the thin piece of fabric fell limp around his neck, he spoke.

“I’m going to kill him.” And then, his voice still cold as ice, “I love you.”

For the first time, you weren’t sure you entirely believed him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere childe #childe x reader

957 notes · View notes

allurilove · 7 months ago

Text

Yandere Husband x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: possessive behavior, manipulation, pregnancy/ baby trapping, cunnilingus, fem reader, p in v sex, dry humping, stalking, he’s a very deceptive man

*Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last post of yan!husband 😭🩵 This is a continuation off of my last post, and he’s only referred to as “your husband.” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. Here is the third part! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your husband is over the moon. He infiltrated your life, and he will make sure you never forget it. His obsession love for you is taken to new heights, a newest edition blessing your family.

You hated being pregnant as much as you hated being lied too. After learning he’s been stalking you, and purposefully feeding you lies about your whole interactions just being “fate,” he finds ways to make you forgive him.

What a fucking creep. Your husband thought as he watched the realtor get too handsy with you. Actually, everyone was trying to put their hands on you. You were carrying his baby, but others would put their hand on your stomach, acting as if it was theirs. He stiffened as the realtor tried to make a lame joke about the master bedroom.

He automatically appeared by your side, removing the realtors hands on your baby bump. He was in a bad mood the whole entire day. When you two go back home, he pulled you to the bedroom. He’s more careful with your body now, and he gently pushed you down onto the bed. He crawled next to you.

His arms wrapped around you possessively, his face digging into your neck, and you hear him whisper sweet things into your skin. He pressed kisses onto your shoulder, his hands wandering around your body before he groped at your chest.

You’ve gained weight, which was natural and just a part of the process. He loved to fondle your thighs, and his hands start to move upwards. Your husband slipped his hand underneath your dress, his hands touching your inner thigh and near your warmth. He was always the big spoon, loving how you feel in his arms.

“Oh dear…” Your husband whispered in delight, his eyes glancing down to see his hardened dick.

Your husband would always be erect around you, his hands revealing your plump ass to him and he gently smacked it. You scoff and push him away. You still haven’t forgotten…. you thought you found a friend, a guy to talk to about your stresses and worries in life. But he was the perpetrator.

“I said I was sorry…” Your husband frowned. “You sure know how to hold a grudge…”

When you shoot him a glare and make it clear you were still upset, he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright… let me make it up to you.”

Your husband pulled your legs apart, and his hands automatically went for your panties.

You remember a time when he first went down on you. You were in a vulnerable position at the time, as you ran and ran from your stalker, however you couldn’t help feel a bit of happiness. This was a confirmation that you weren’t hallucinating, and all of your friends that didn’t believe you, could suck it. But it also meant you weren’t just delusional, and someone was actually following you. Fatigue settled into your body, and you rested on the wall as you try to catch your breath.

Your husband, who was just a friend at the time, conveniently was walking past. He looked worried, and he feigned innocence when he pretended that he didn’t see a man following you. He walked you back home that night, and he got you so comfortable around him- that his fingers were easily slipping inside you. His tongue lapping up any juices that flowed out of you, and he pressed kisses on your folds.

He was a vessel of safety, and at the time you thought you would be fine for awhile. Completely unaware that your stalker was now sleeping in the same bed as you.

Your husband moaned as his mouth latched onto your cunt, his hands now trailing upwards to feel your stomach. His heart fluttered, and his mind was plagued of ways to keep you by his side forever. Spilling his seed inside you was one thing, and marrying you was another… but he needed something more binding.

He was a bit afraid of hurting the baby, and he always tried different ways of pleasing you than using his dick. He pulled down his pants and he lowered his hips, just enough to be rubbing against your wet core. You feel the soft fabric of his boxers touching your clit, and his lips connect with yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

You remember the time when you found out you were pregnant. You were suddenly sick, and your husband was by your side, just mindlessly playing with your tits. He did that often as he read his newspapers, his hand would crawl underneath your shirt, and his excuse was that he just needs something to fondle. That was when you found out he was not who he said he was. That the times he “bumped” into you, was him finding out your schedule, your routine, and months of stalking.

“What are you thinking about, hmm?” Your husband whispered in your ear, one of his hand grabbed onto your ass to help you follow his rhythm. He continues to grind himself onto you, his other hand playing with your hair.

“What will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Will it help if you hit me?” Your husband scoffed as you screamed at him for hours. You cried your heart out, and the person you loved at the time, was the reason for your paranoia. You can still feel his kisses on your neck, the way he pulled your clothes off, and when he bent you over on the dresser, you couldn’t move. His body was smushed right against yours, he humiliated you, made you feel desperate for release, and made your toes curl.

As he fucked you from behind, he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. The way drool dribbled down your mouth as you let out silent screams, your eyes rolling back as his thrusts were hard, and demanding submission. You despised him, the way he puts his hands on you, and the way he made you cum.

“…You’re crying..?” Your husband was stumped as tears welled up in your eyes and you started to sniffle. “Because of me?”

You’re tired of him trying to make it up to you. If he really wanted too, he would’ve came clean long time ago and go to jail for fucks sake. You feel his eyes zero in on your tears, watching it dribble down to your chin, and out of curiosity he licked them. He kisses your cheeks and he wraps his arms around you again. You feel suffocated having him on top of you, and you wish someone would take pity on you and take you away.

“I’m sorry.”

You’ve heard it countless of times, each meaningless and empty.

Allure: Sorry that this took awhile! I had to redo this a couple of times, and I wasn’t sure what to write really.

2K notes · View notes

yuujispinkhair · 1 month ago

Text

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 07

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

If someone told you a few weeks ago that you would spend hours in the library, studying in comfortable silence with the resident hockey star, you would have laughed at them and told them they were crazy. But here you are, on a Wednesday afternoon, sitting across from Sukuna at a small table in the library, surrounded by your classic literature books and Sukuna's history books, studying together as if it is the most natural thing ever.

Sukuna bumped into you this morning, Grinning at you and telling you to meet him after class so you could have lunch together. And considering your little fuckbuddies arrangement and how close the two of you got through it, you found yourself raising a teasing eyebrow at him and asking in a flirty voice,

"And how do you know our classes end at the same time? Be honest, Sukuna. Are you following me around?"

And he smirked that equally teasing smirk at you,

"There's no need for that, princess. I don't need to stalk you like some fucking creep. I know we both have classes in this wing on Wednesdays, and I know both our classes end at 11:30. It's not following around. It's called having a brain. Also, I wouldn't be where I am in life if I didn't plan ahead. Remember this: I am always in control. I always plan things."

"So, what is your plan with me?"

A smug smirk spread over Sukuna's face, and he leaned down, cupping your chin,

"Take you to lunch and then to the library since I know we both have no classes after lunch, and I have to study history, and you have to study literature. So we are going to spend the afternoon sharing a table at the library."

With that, he had left for his class, making you stand there grinning and looking after him, gaze trailing down Sukuna's deliciously v-shaped body, from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips and that firm ass in his tight black jeans.

And now you sit in the library across from him, and you have to admit that Sukuna is a surprisingly nice study partner. He is very focused on his work. You watch him from time to time, watch how completely immersed he is in the things he is researching. The way his tattooed face scrunches up at times and the way his lips twitch when he finds something that amuses him. You realize one thing: The popular star player is a little nerd when it comes to the things he's interested in. Be it hockey, working out, or history.

You feel low-key bad for assuming Sukuna was the typical dumb jock who only cares about his sports. The truth is, he is actually at the top of all his classes. And it's not just because Sukuna got lucky and has the brains to get top grades without having to study. While Sukuna is naturally smart, he isn't someone who relies only on his talents. The resident star player isn't lazy. He works hard for his success. On the ice and in his classes.

You know how often Sukuna goes to the gym to work out and that he gets up at ungodly hours each morning to go for a morning run, no matter how shitty the weather is. He also analyzes the games of his opponents and works out tactics to win against them. Always planning everything, always making sure he is a step ahead.

And apparently, Sukuna shows the same ambition and dedication when it comes to studying. He is sitting here in the library, surrounded by old books, making color-coded notes and even occasionally putting on a pair of reading glasses so he can decipher the small fonts in his books. Sukuna is organized, disciplined, and hardworking. He is intelligent and ambitious but also very passionate about the things he enjoys. Driven by the desire to be the best, but also truly devoted. It is something you respect. And it is also sexy as hell.

You smile to yourself as you look up from your book and watch Sukuna tapping a tattooed finger on a passage in his history book as if he fully agrees with what is being said there. You think that most people who see him on campus or on the ice don't know that Sukuna is an intelligent nerd hiding in the body of a dumb jock and behind the appearance of a bad boy who likes to pretend he doesn't give a fuck.

Maybe Sukuna is good at hiding his true nature from everyone else but not from you. Your smile grows bigger, realizing that you can read Sukuna like a book. Analyzing him is like analyzing the characters in the novels you read. And Sukuna is such a lovely, complex character. Maybe you should use him as your muse for the next short story you write?

Suddenly, maroon eyes look up from the book they were studying and instead look deeply into yours.

"What happened to studying, Miss? I know I'm more interesting than your books, but if you want to get a good grade for your assignment, you better look into one of those books before you instead of just staring at me."

Sukuna's smirk is downright rude with how smug it is, and you huff loudly, rolling your eyes, about to complain, but you get distracted by Sukuna placing a large lunch box in the middle of the table and opening it to reveal a delicious-looking homemade banana bread. Wordlessly, he pushes the box toward you, and you sigh softly and take a slice of the banana bread that tastes just as good as it looks.

Sukuna's eyes are on you as you chew, and when you tell him it tastes delicious, a small smile plays around his lips that looks so genuinely happy and proud that it makes your chest feel strangely warm.

It's Saturday, and you are where you always are now when the Tigers have a home game: In the hockey arena, watching Sukuna being the King of the Ice who is turning the whole arena into his personal throne room.

You can't help but bite your lip when you watch Sukuna skating/running over the ice with the puck securely under his control, eyes focused on the goal ahead, not letting anyone stop him, making the rival players who try to get in his way, drop to the floor after several brutal body checks from The King of Curses. He looks so cool when he slams his opponents into the boards, a smirk flashing behind his face cage, maroon eyes alight with that mad, happy glint he always gets when he is on a victory streak.

And those eyes find you in the stands again, locking the two of you in an intense gaze while you grin matching grins at each other. The whole arena is chanting Sukuna's name, but his eyes are only on you. The star player and his lucky charm.

It leaves you feeling light-headed, adrenaline sizzling through your veins not just because of the high-speed game and the loud, euphoric mood in the arena but also because of your little interaction with Sukuna.

You see images flash in your mind of you and him lying naked in his bed last night. The way Sukuna was on top of you, looking so gorgeous with his biceps flexed from bracing himself on the bed while fucking you in missionary, almost as if he was using it as a workout, doing pushups on top of you.

And you were admiring the sight and moaning softly while letting Sukuna fuck you with those lazy, slow strokes while he told you about the tactics he worked out for today's game. Until his thrusts became erratic, and instead of ice hockey tactics, all that came out of his mouth were those sexy low groans and raspy breaths.

After the game, you walk down the stairs that lead to the plexiglass surrounding the rink, already seeing Sukuna skate over with his helmet under his arm, running a large hand through his sweaty pink hair, a big proud grin on his face. You grin, too, as you stop in front of the plexiglass to congratulate him, and Sukuna winks at you,

"Thanks for the good luck, princess. See, I told you my new pre-game routine is great."

You feel your face become hot, knowing full well that you are the pre-game routine he's talking about. Or, more precisely: Sukuna fucking you as stress relief while rehearsing his tactics. But you cover up how flustered you are by laughing and winking at Sukuna, too,

"It's always a pleasure to help."

You spend more time over at Sukuna's dorm, and it's not all that awkward anymore when you walk out of his room and run into Yuuji.

Maybe it's because Yuuji is naturally someone who is really nice and makes you feel very at ease around him, or it is because spending so much time with Sukuna has made you become more shameless and more confident. Either way, you just smile and greet Yuuji when you see him sitting on the couch in the living area, controller in hand, playing Mario Kart. And he smiles his big sunshine smile and waves you over,

"Hey, do you wanna play a few rounds with me?"

You smile and nod, joining him on the couch and taking the second controller he hands you.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed because Yuuji's twin brother just fucked you doggy style on his bed a few minutes ago, making you sob into his pillow with how good the dick was, and you are pretty sure you still smell like sex, and Sukuna's cologne, but you cannot bring yourself to care. It's too comfortable here on the couch, and Yuuji is so welcoming and uncomplicated. Somehow, you like that Sukuna's brother treats you like this, as if you belong in this dorm, too. As if you are Sukuna's girl.

Your breath hitches at the thought, but you get over it a second later when a red turtle shell hits your kart and makes you scream loudly while Yuuji laughs.

Sukuna strolls past the couch, ruffling first his brother's and then your hair, making both of you complain and swat at his hand, but he just laughs that low laugh and casually strolls into the kitchen area.

Your gaze strays to Sukuna's tall, buff body for a few seconds. He is only wearing grey sweatpants, sitting so low that you can see the elastic band of his black boxer briefs. You are so distracted that you crash your kart into a fence, quickly scrambling to get back into the race.

"Hey, princess, you staying for dinner?"

You blink and gaze once again at the pink-haired boy in the open kitchen. Sukuna is grinning lazily at you, holding a pan and a spatula in his hands. You raise an eyebrow,

"Do you mean you are going to cook something?"

"Yeah, is that so surprising?"

"Well, yeah... I assumed you only eat your protein stuff and cooked chicken. I am not staying for that. I can eat a real meal at home."

"Oh, shut up. You will sit your pretty ass on my kitchen chair and eat the fucking food I cooked, and you will love it."

To your surprise, Sukuna can actually cook. Really well, too. You nod when he asks you if the princess would like a second helping. And you see the genuine, proud smile on his tattooed face when you praise his cooking skills. It's actually cute how happy Sukuna seems when he sees you enjoying the food he cooked.

And you have to admit to yourself that having dinner together with Sukuna and his brother makes you feel even more at ease spending time in their dorm outside of having sex with Sukuna.

The first time you tell Sukuna to come over to your dorm is on a Tuesday evening when you know Nobara has plans with Maki, which will keep her out of the apartment for several hours.

Sukuna 🏒👑: What are you doing tonight, princess?

You: Nothing, really. Wanna come over?

Sukuna 🏒👑: Bet. See you after my workout.

You aren't even nervous anymore at the prospect of the hockey star coming over. You just feel this very nice and excited buzz at the thought that in an hour, you will have sex with Sukuna.

It feels so natural. So uncomplicated. You just hop quickly into the shower and afterward don't even bother picking a nice outfit, but just slip into a random pair of fresh panties and socks and grab the comfiest clothing item you own, Sukuna's white hoodie.

When Sukuna knocks on your door twenty minutes later, you open the door, wearing only your panties and his hoodie, and smile up at him with a breathless chuckle.

"Hey, Kuna. How was your workout?"

But Sukuna doesn't reply but stops in the open doorway, staring at you with wide maroon eyes. You wonder if it was the nickname you unintentionally used that caused this reaction. It makes your lips lift in an even broader smile, your pulse sizzling with a strange kind of power. For the first time since you started to interact with Sukuna, you feel like you have the upper hand.

Sukuna's maroon eyes trail hungrily over your body. Over your naked legs and his white Tigers hoodie. A moment later, he is on you, banging the door shut behind him as he drops his sports bag and grabs your waist, picking you up and slamming you against the wall, silencing your surprised squeal with his lips in a hungry, demanding kiss, that makes your head spin.

You giggle into the kiss as your hand caresses Sukuna's neck, fingertips running over the short stubble of his undercut, and Sukuna makes that sexy noise in the back of his throat again, that little growl that makes your fingers grab his soft pink hair and pull him even closer, opening your mouth further to let him lick your tongue with those deep, sexy caresses.

Sukuna carries you to your bedroom, throwing you on your bed, where you land with a breathless chuckle that turns into a soft moan when Sukuna joins you on the bed, his large hands pulling your panties down impatiently while his soft lips trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your legs.

Sukuna yanks off his shirt, followed by his sweatpants and boxer briefs, making you lick your lips when you see his gorgeous hard cock slap heavily against his firm abs. So hard for you, so ready to fuck you into bliss.

Your hands wander to the hem of the hoodie, but Sukuna shakes his head, maroon eyes boring deeply into yours,

"Leave it on."

And so your little fantasy that you had when you first got Sukuna's hoodie becomes real. You are on your bed, straddling Sukuna's lap, only wearing his hoodie and nothing else, your wet pussy rubbing over his hot hard cock, gasping anytime his thick mushroom head catches on your clit. And Sukuna is beneath you, cursing and groaning, his large hands slipping under the hoodie to hold your waist, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you.

"Yeah, princess, like that. Slick my cock up. Make it all wet and messy so I can fuck you real nice."

He flips you over after a while, pushing your thighs apart, revealing your pussy to his hungry gaze, moaning while he fists his cock and pumps it a few times while his thumb brushes over your clit, circling it slowly, making you whine loudly, babbling about how much you want his cock.

And Sukuna grabs your hips and pulls you towards him, pushing into you with a hard, deep thrust that makes both of you gasp loudly. He doesn't waste a second but humps against you, fucking you at a hard deep pace. You feel delirious when Sukuna's calloused hands trail over your legs, putting them on his shoulders, and you suddenly can feel him even deeper in you.

It draws a loud, shaky sob from your lips as you cling to Sukuna's arms, digging your nails into his bulging biceps as he fucks you with those deep strokes that make your legs dangle from his broad shoulders in rhythm with his hard thrusts.

The hoodie rides up during the hard fuck, and you see Sukuna looking down, watching his slicked-up cock push in and out of your creamy pussy, and it makes you clench around him, so turned on by his gaze.

Sukuna is so sexy, all buff muscles which flex with every roll of his hips, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin, low grunts falling from his lips as he fucks you so deep and so good, making you think you might be addicted to his dick.

You breathe out his name, "Kuna...", your hands squeezing his biceps as you get pushed into the mattress rhythmically, gasping anytime Sukuna's thick mushroom head caresses your g-spot, sending you closer and closer to the edge, each deep stroke making a fluttery sensation fill your belly.

You mewl loudly when you cum around Sukuna's cock, your heels digging into his broad, muscular back, your pussy tightening so much around him that he hisses loudly.

And Sukuna fucks you even harder, chasing his own orgasm. He yanks on the hoodie, pushing it up to reveal your tits to him, watching as they bounce wildly with how hard he is fucking you.

He pulls out just in time for his orgasm, letting his hot cum rain down on your tits and your belly, and your pulsing clit while a series of sexy low groans falls from his lips.

You look at Sukuna in awe. How he kneels between your legs, so sexy and big, his twitching cock still in his hand, his eyes wandering hungrily over your body with the hoodie pushed up to reveal your skin covered in Sukuna's thick milky seed. And you can't help but moan, feeling so sexy like this, so desired, tits covered in Sukuna's cum, pussy still pulsing hotly from the mind-boggling orgasm Sukuna fucked out of you.

You smile dazedly up at Sukuna, barely holding yourself back from telling him that you think his dick is your favorite thing in the world, and he grins down at you with that charming smirk,

"You look so fucking good in my hoodie. I should get you more team merch, princess."

Sukuna seems to feel at home at your dorm, too, much to Nobara's dismay. You watch with growing amusement how she and Sukuna interact with each other. Always just waiting to say something rude to the other while their eyes glow with devilish fun.

Sukuna shamelessly struts out of your room, only wearing his low-sitting grey sweatpants and no shirt, his neck adorned with your lipstick marks, and his broad back full of the scratches your fingernails left there. He strolls casually into your kitchen, yanking open the fridge and getting some milk as if he lives here.

You lean in your open door, wearing his hoodie, watching him with a dazed smile on your face while Nobara casts a scandalized look at Sukuna's bare chest and the milk carton he brings provocatively to his lips, drinking straight out of the carton before he smirks his typical rude smirk at your dormmate,

"Hey, Ginger. Got a problem?"

"Hey, Kirby. Yeah, I think you should wear a shirt, and I hope you know that you have to pay for that milk!"

Sukuna laughs and walks past her, the milk container firmly in his tattooed hand, tilting his head back to gulp down even more of the milk. And Nobara's eyes widen comically as she sees Sukuna's broad back with all the scratch marks your fingernails left on it.

"Are the two of you animals or what?"

But you see the grin tugging at her lips. This is exactly the type of stuff your dormmate enjoys, and you burst out laughing at her comment, which turns into a giddy squeal when Sukuna picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you back into your room while he smirks at Nobara holding up the milk container in his hand to wave mockingly with it, while his other hand sprawls over your ass.

"Thanks for the milk. Now I have the strength for another round. You better wear some headphones if the noise bothers you. I know we will be loud."

You whine his name, begging him to stop embarrassing you, but you can't stop the laughter from creeping into your voice. And Sukuna just gives your ass a squeeze and grins and cocks his head,

"You trying to shut me up, princess? There's a better way to do that. Give my mouth something other to do."

And his mouth is really busy doing something other a few minutes later when he has you on your bed with your thighs pushed apart by those strong tattooed hands while Sukuna kneels on the floor between your legs, his face buried between your thighs, his lips and tongue pampering your pussy while his nose pushes against your clit.

He's making out loudly with your pussy, leaving loud smacking kisses on your puffy clit, and writing his name on it with his tongue. And you gasp and whimper and tug on Sukuna's pink hair as your hips buck in helpless pleasure, every thought of your dormmate erased from your pleasure-clouded mind.

"I can't ice skate. I never tried it."

You didn't think it was possible, but Sukuna seems to be rendered speechless upon your little confession during lunch. His hand, which was about to bring his usual cooked chicken to his mouth, stops in midair, and he stares at you with wide eyes as if you told him you don't know how to read.

"How can you never have been ice skating? What the fuck, princess?"

You laugh and shrug,

"I don't know. My town didn't have an ice skating arena, and none of my friends ever went ice skating, so...."

"That's absolutely ridiculous and unacceptable."

"Why? I think a lot of people never..."

You can't even finish the sentence before Sukuna interjects,

"I will teach you."

"What? Um, no, I... I am really unathletic and everything. I will probably be terrible at it."

"That's why you get me as your personal coach. You can learn from the best. Come to the arena at 7:00 tonight. I can teach you after training. Feel special. You'll get a private lesson from the Ice King."

Sukuna winks playfully at you, and even though you already feel your face get hot at the thought of how much you will probably embarrass yourself, you can't help but smile.

You enter the arena half an hour before your private lesson, sitting on the row directly behind the player's bench to watch the ice hockey team's practice while your pulse flutters more nervously with each passing minute. The ice looks intimidating. Hard and cold and unforgiving if you slip and fall.

When you look at Sukuna, who is currently speeding from one side of the rink to the next, it looks easy, of course. But you don't even want to think about how you will fare.

The coach claps his hands and announces the training is over, and the Tigers pile out of the rink, grabbing their stuff from the bench and leaving for the locker room without paying much notice to you. Yuuji and Todo pass you with big grins and reach out to high-five you, not even questioning why you are here during their practice.

And then Sukuna stops before you. Your heart jumps to your throat as you lift your head to look up at him.

He is so tall and broad in his hockey attire, with that smug smirk on his tattooed face. He extends a large hand to you, and you sigh and take it, letting him pull you to your feet, where you wobble immediately on the ice skates you are wearing. You gasp and tighten your hold on Sukuna's hand, clinging to him and exclaiming,

"Oh shit! Maybe we should call it a day. I will just make a fool of myself or break a leg or something!"

But Sukuna just laughs that amused, low laugh and his strong arm reaches around your waist, steadying you. He cocks his head and smirks at you,

"Come on, princess, do you really think I would let you fall? Haven't I already proved on our very first encounter that I am very good at catching you?"

His smirk grows even bigger, even more charming, and he winks at you, making your stomach feel a bit too fluttery, and you can't tell anymore if it is really just from the anxiety of standing on ice skates for the first time in your life, or if it has something to do with that boyish smirk on the star player's face.

But you feel safer now that Sukuna is holding you. Sukuna's grip on you is reassuringly strong as he slowly leads you toward the ice. He lets you hold on tightly to him without complaining, even as your nails dig painfully into his skin. His strong arm steadies you, keeping you safely on your feet.

You reach the ice, and your pulse flutters. Sukuna lets go of you after he makes sure you are holding onto the boards. He steps on the ice casually as if he is just walking on regular ground. It looks so natural when he does it.

And then Sukuna turns around to grin at you, extending his large hand again, letting you take it into your smaller hand,

"Come here, princess. I'll catch you."

Without further warning, Sukuna tugs on your hand, pulling you onto the ice. You register what is about to happen, and you start complaining nervously, but your feet are already taking a step forward. And then you are on the ice, screeching embarrassingly loud when you feel your feet slip away from under you.

But you never land on the cold ice. Instead, you get pulled forward and slam into Sukuna's tall, broad body. Your face presses lightly against his chest, feeling his firm muscles and the soft material of his hockey jersey, inhaling his fresh and sexy scent laced with a tiny hint of sweat from his earlier training session. It smells enticing and reassuring somehow.

Your hand that's holding Sukuna's is clinging to him in a death grip while the other is grabbing his jersey tightly. You tilt your head back to look up at Sukuna's face, seeing his broad, amused smirk that immediately makes you roll your eyes and huff,

"Stop being so smug! I told you this is my first time!"

But Sukuna just laughs softly, and his other hand lands on your hip, gently pushing you a little bit to the back so you have to stand without leaning on him.

"Don't worry. I'll teach you how to ice skate if it is the last thing I do. Look at you, already being able to stand on the ice all by yourself!"

"But I am not.."

You start to say when Sukuna lets go of you for a moment, and you stare at him with wide eyes as you realize you are standing on the ice. A strangled laugh escapes your lips, but then you become too aware of the slippery ice beneath your feet, and you feel yourself slipping,

But Sukuna is there before anything can happen. He laughs and scoops you up into his strong arms, holding you princess-style.

"Come on, princess. I'll let you get a taste of how it feels to be on the ice."

He begins to skate across the rink with you in his arms, carrying you easily as if you weigh nothing. You laugh and wrap your hands around Sukuna's neck, your stomach tingling from the way he is skating across the ice with those fast, confident moves.

Sukuna does one lap around the rink with you in his arms before he carefully sets you down again. But his large hands hold yours securely, making sure you won't fall. He looks deeply into your eyes with his maroon eyes, which are so warm in this cold ice palace. And his lips lift in a little smile,

"Wanna give it a try now, too, princess? I will show you how. I promise I won't let go of you."

Sukuna is smiling so charmingly at you, and his low voice is so calm and serious, his hold on you reassuring and secure, and you realize that you trust Sukuna fully. You trust this scary-looking bad boy not to let you fall. You smile at him and nod softly,

"Ok. Show me, please."

You know that Sukuna is usually infamous for being a menace who scares the shit out of his opponents. A real devil on the ice.

But not tonight. Not when he is ice skating with you.

Sukuna is an amazing teacher. He is patient with you, never getting annoyed at your clumsiness. Instead, his large hand is holding yours safely, and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist, steadying you. His low voice in your ear encourages you. Praising you for every little thing you do. And you can't stop a stupid little smile from spreading over your face as you slowly glide over the ice at Sukuna's side.

"Don't be so tense, princess. Just lean on me. I got you, don't be scared. I won't let you fall. Trust me."

And you do trust him. You let out a breath and relax in Sukuna's strong arms, letting him take control. Letting him pick up speed while guiding you safely across the cold ice.

Sukuna skates with you all the way through the arena. Just the two of you on the ice while the arena sits in darkness and only the rink is illuminated. It could almost be romantic. You feel safe on his arm, weightless as you glide over the ice. It's an incredible feeling as if you are soaring through the air. The ice glitters prettily like a million diamonds. And Sukuna's hand on the small of your back radiates warmth even through your jacket.

You feel so safe in Sukuna's arms. And it's actually fun to skate across the ice, to feel the chilly air on your heated cheeks, to hear your own delighted laughter mingle with Sukuna's.

You are a bit out of breath when Sukuna digs the blades of his ice skates into the ice, bringing the two of you to a stop in front of the benches, grinning at you with such a genuinely happy expression on his tattooed face that it makes your heart clench and reach up to cup his cheek.

"Thank you, Kuna. That was really fun."

You gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment. Time seems to stand still. And then you are suddenly kissing.

You can't tell who initiated it, whether you were the first who let herself fall against Sukuna to get on your tiptoes to reach his lips or whether it was him who tightened his hold around your smaller body and pulled you against him. But suddenly, your lips are moving against each other in a slow, gentle kiss.

A kiss that doesn't lead to sex. A kiss that isn't born out of the heated desire to rip each other's clothes off. A slow, tender kiss that makes your head turn to mush and makes butterflies dance in your stomach when Sukuna pulls you even closer against his firm, tall body.

When you pull away, you open your eyes and look up at Sukuna, right when he opens his eyes too. And for a moment, you are astounded because you have never seen those beautiful maroon eyes look so soft.

Sukuna laughs, a large hand cupping your cheek, and he asks if you want to do one last round across the rink. You nod dazedly, letting him gently pull you along, gliding once again over the glittering ice. Almost as if the two of you are the prince and princess in some fairytale, kissing on the ice, skating together into your happily ever after.

It's not like that, of course. You have to remind yourself this isn't a fairytale. You aren't a couple. But on this evening, for an hour in this dimly lit hockey arena, what the two of you have feels magical.

Is there LOVE in the air? The private ice skating lesson was one of the first scenes I wrote for this AU, and it still gives me so many butterflies aaaahhhhh 💗💗 I want this so bad with him!! I hope you enjoyed it, too!

Writing this story is truly such a comfort to me, and I am so happy to hear that it brings y'all joy, too. Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback and for getting on this journey with me 💗

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

In Chapter 8 Reader will struggle with her feelings ;)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #{🏒❤️} hockey au

718 notes · View notes

ham1lton · 7 months ago

Text

‘cause i’m that bitch.

pairing: charles leclerc x fashionista!reader.

warnings: nothing! just reader being a bad bitch.

faceclaim: rihanna.

summary: charles keeps trying to tell everyone he’s in a relationship with you, the it girl of the fashion world. yet, no one believes him. he’s very keen on changing that.

— part two of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —

liked by vogue, zendaya and 3,822,728 others.

yourcompanyname: our boss y/n l/n at the cfda gala last night where she was awarded the fashion icon award. pictures of her arriving to, during and after the event.

view all comments

ynswife: ‘do my tits bother you? they're COVERED… in swarovski crystals girl!’

-> user1: oh she ate this look up so bad.

user7: i remember when she was still interning for vogue and now she’s one of the biggest makeup and clothing moguls in the world 🥺

-> yourcompanyname: thanks for being with us since the beginning!! check your dms for a surprise! 🙈

user5: that’s my favourite fashion designer!

user6: did y’all see the post-award interview? she was giggling saying she was going to celebrate with someone after getting the award…. i wonder who it was.

-> user9: probably just her best friend. they’re really close and she helps her get ready for events like this.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT.

— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.

CHARLES LECLERC: they don’t believe it! they don’t believe i’m dating you!

Y/N L/N: they’re probably joking babe-

LECLERC: they called me a french twink! i’m not even french!

L/N: i know babe.

LECLERC: we need to ramp it up. can i wear one of your designs? maybe they’ll understand when i’m dressed in your fashion.

L/N: i have the perfect outfits for you. i’ll send them tomorrow!

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,383,937 others.

gqmens: charles leclerc is our new cover boy, dressed in yourcompanyname’s menswear from head to toe.

view all comments

landonorris: can you get me some clothes 😩

-> user6: BUY EM 🤨

user2: idc if he’s a stalker, he’s sooooo fine i’m sorry.

-> dumbass1: he can stalk me deadass. go all joe goldberg on me 😍😩

user89: he’s really trying to make us believe that he’s dating her…. we’re not that gullible dumbass!

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

liked by yourcompanyname, vogue and 1,728,727 others.

y/nsfanpage: last night y/n was seen at the movie premiere of ‘material girl’, the second film that she’s produced under her production company!

view all comments

user3: queen!! don’t know what looks better, her or the movie!

user8: some vroom vroom guy is saying he’s dating her….

-> user9: imagine 😭

user7: he’s even buying clothes to pretend he’s sponsored by her that’s crazy 😭😭😭😭

-> user5: she needs a restraining order i’m so serious.

user6: she looks so good!! 😍

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT

— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.

LECLERC: we need to pull out the big guns.

L/N: if you’re sure…

LECLERC: i just want people to understand and believe i’m dating you. i don’t want people to believe i’m a weird stalker.

L/N: oh babe, i’m so sorry. you know what? i’ll take the day off tomorrow, we can go out and spend all day doing what you’d like to do.

LECLERC: all i want to do is be with you.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

liked by ynswifey, charlieeupdates and 2,628,982 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: after initial disbelief from the internet, business mogul and it girl y/n l/n has been spotted cosying up with formula one driver charles leclerc in an art gallery in paris. how are we feeling about this new couple ham1ltons?

view all comments

user7: HE STOLE MY WIFE!!!!!! BOOOO

user6: i apologise mr leclerc i was unfamiliar with your game.

-> user7: don’t ever doubt the game of a peculiar white dude.

user78: she looks so good even blurry.

user67: that outfit is crazy he looks like a mime.

-> user23: he’s never beating the french allegations.

user12: first pic is actually so cute!!

user34: i still think it’s photoshopped.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

taglist: @lemon-lav @firelily-mimi @formulaal @sya-skies @namgification @raevyng @ajvaix @demvnsriot @blupblupfish @ravisinghs-wife @f1kenzzz @d3kstar @wildflowermarns @ironmaiden1313 @evie-119 @decafmickey @nichmeddar @casperlikej @cuteskz @charlesleclercsonlywife @booksandflowrs @mxdi0 @alexmarie29 @iloveyou3000morgan @fate-posts @luckyladycreator2 @23victoria (don’t see yourself or wanna be removed? send an ask!)

— don’t wanna miss an update? join my taglist!

2K notes · View notes

r3starttt · 7 months ago

Text

WARM LIKE A GUN

jealous ex ! Ellie

CW: toxic and obsessive behavior. stalking. strap-on sex (r!receiving). use of names like whore, slut, good girl. toxic relationship. spit. clit slaps. cum eating. jealousy-hate sex. teasing. dom! mean! el.

It had become a ritual, a perverted quotidianity. Hands burning at the emptiness, aching to get the smallest tact of your flesh. Tongue sticking out at the tought of you and fingers desperately scratching every fold of her skin pretending it was you.

Not even the cigarette abstinence had such effect on her mind, on her body, on her life. Maybe because that didn't involve skin to skin contact, maybe because that was a sin she didn't actually care about.

She was always this insane, always too focused on the next victim instead of enjoying the achievement of getting what she so much wanted. Obsessively wandering her eyes at the women on the street to find the new target, unconsciously flirting with waitresses and nice ladies at every place she stepped in.

But you made a mess of her.

Ellie really tried to get over you, after all that's wham she wanted - in the very, very first beggining. The result was some half-lided eyes looking for you in every crowd, for an ass like yours, tits as deliciously shown as yours. The image of when she first met your persona never disappeared, and kept on playing with her.

Her mind got so traumatized she kept on looking trough photos and pictures of you to make her remember the real you and not the perception she'd built of you - same she got from when she first met you.

Hands over your hair, running down your body at the beat, a drink in hand and the widest smile she's ever enjoyed of. You approached her first.

Maybe that's why she never forgot about you, because you've chosen her as your target, and not the other way as Ellie was- is, so used to do.

And probably that's the reason behind the violent though of ripping your skin off your body, well, she wouldn't, not literally.

Those same hands that caught her attention for the first time now touching someone else's body. Gripping at a ridiculously short dress to get a taste of someone else's ass. Is that what you've become now? She's not even hot, or nice, or decent. She's a whore, do you like whores now?

No blame on her tho. You yourself wanted to rip your own skin off- same reason, the sight of her.

The woman in front of you wasn't bad. Nice ass, breasts bouncing at her every move, doe eyes trying so desperately to catch your attention by batting her pretty long lashes. Red lips running out of color and painting the glass in hand instead, wandering over your neck in another desperate attempt to get a taste of you.

She was nice, just not your type.

She would've, in any other moment of your life. Just not now, when you have ellie eye fucking you as you so much missed.

You were equally insane, target over target until you got to her. The thing is, she wanted to get rid of you and you never planned on fighting her back.

You regret it now, you should've played a little bit more.

Drink and drink and drink, you were beyond lost on your thoughts the heat and the music. Some feminine hands deliciously dancing over your body, you've got over ellie once again.

Or so you thought because you had to excuse yourself moment later before you got a little bit of councsiousness back. Getting rid of the roaming hands over your body and the multitude of gorgeous women that caught your attention at you every step.

Purse in hand, heels making your feet bleed and your dress barely covering your body anymore. The air hit your skin, made your hair dance a bit and your eyes open wide to make yourself at home as fast as possible.

The sight inf front of you wasn't knew though, a sort of new expensive motorcycle you somehow knew was standing right in front of you- well, resting near a wall, being lightened enough by the fluorescent lights outside the bar.

Was it a neighbour's?

It wasn't

It wouldn’t make sense since it's resting again in front of you, now at home.

It would be a psychotic coincidence, Ellie to be more precise. You had no one else in mind.

Not that you actually care either, you looked for her on those hands at the club, on your drink and those red lips that got to touch your skin eventually. You really wished it was her, but not really, you were fine without her and if she got another taste of you, even when you wished it happened, she would go insane. And you weren't in the mood to deal with her.

Or so you thought.

Because the way your hands are intertwined on her hair, tugging at it- says otherwise. The way the palms of her hands are gripping at your flesh also says otherwise.

There's a mix of alcohol and cigarette on your mouth, a tint of weed too. You can feel your lipstick all messy over your lips, you can see it on her face. There's drool connecting both, it's all so desperate and stupid. Humiliating.

Your legs are around hers, keeping her still. Ellie's doing the same, with her hands on your ass, spanking it whenever you try to make this go faster.

Your arms are locked around her neck, scratching it oh so slightly. Her nose tickling your neck, your clavicle, breathing in and out all of you.

You're both aware this is a once in a long time thing, because yes it's gonna happen again just not any soon.

"You've find yourself a new whore to fuck?" Her voice echoes out of nowhere, causing a knot on your stomach. You simply shake your head, enjoying how the tips of her digits dance along your stomach, up your chest. "no?" She whispers once more, her breath hitting your neck, accompanied by her saliva just some seconds later as she leaves wet sloppy kisses along your shoulders.

"You mind it?" You hit back, relentlessly. In response there's only a chuckle. One of her hands keeping its place on your ass, the other one gripping at your breasts, individually and so desperately it hurts. "You're mine" her response rebounds in your mind, too proud yourself to let her hear what she wants, but "you think so?" Her palms let go of your body, her touch getting deeper on your stomach just to push you. "I know so"

"Oh, is that so?" Your fingertips pass swanning over the hem of her shirt, just the perfect amount to get a taste of her stomach. "Want me to prove that to you?"

Her hands get fully off your body, now placing her palms over her her waistband to get rid of it. You already know what she wants, what you'll receive from her. There's no way she wasn't planning on going back home without fucking someone and fuck it makes your skin burn, what if it wasn't you the one she'd fuck tonight? Maybe you do like- "such a whore williams"

"Sit on it" she avoids your latest mock, simply making herself comfortable and doing you a favor by opening her legs enough for you to fit on her lap.

Her hands roam over your dress, naturally pushing it up your waist. "I'm the whore?" The tip of her digits rubbing circles over your already damped cunt. Your mouth opens very slightly at the touch, trying to contain yourself from giving her what she so much wants, failing.

"Make yourself ready f' me, yeah?" you swear you discern a mocking smile on her face, becoming more visible the more you pass your clothed cunt over her dick. Her hands rest on the sides of her legs, getting the privilege of watching you lose all that attitude you've won the pass minutes.

You whine at the sensation. Thrilled every second, every move- desperate to bounce on her, clenching oh so hurtfully around nothing. Her lips pressed eventually over the crook of your neck, sucking, nibbling or kissing every inch of skin she could reach.

You kept on grinding onto the buldge, letting out small pleads here and there. Whining and mumbling nonsense, helping yourself to keep your body in place by ressting your hands anywhere over her body.

"You think she could make you feel like this?" At the absence of your response, well, a poper one that wasnt lol by a whine out of that pretty mouth of yours, she spoke again "havent even started and you cant speak? Mhm?" One of her hands moved again, down your body. Her palm shoved down the hem of your dress, touching very slightly the tip of your clit, giving it some slapps before actually making small circles above. "So?"

"The fuck are you- fuck" cut off by a sigh, you tried to speak once more "the girl at the bar?" Your legs started to lose their strength, you had to slow down.

"Is there someone else?" If anything, you despised her stupid teasing, her nonsense questions and how she always had her way with humiliating you. "No" you simply whined, feeling the palms of her hands restrict you from moving anymore.

"I'm gonna make you mine" her lips pressed over yours in such aggressive kiss. Underneath you, her hands worked on getting rid of your underwear, getting rid of anything keeping any distance left between both. "m' gonna stretch you n' fill you up" giving the situation your mouth simply let out a whine, letting her know you were beyond thrilled by such idea. Being hers forever, making this games between both end.

Her thrusts start slow, giving you the chance to even ride her. She was getting something else in exchange of course. Her mouth being filled by your nipples, licking and sucking absolutely senseless. That until her hips started to slam into yours. "think anyone else can make you feel like this, hm?" She whispered in between your breasts, eyes fully fixated to your closed and clenched ones. Such delightful scenery for her.

“you can play cool, but I've been watching you" she interrupted herself by the desperate need of getting a taste of your lips. Harshly grabbing your cheeks to pull you closer. Instictively you opened your mouth, giving her all those pretty noises as closely as she wished. "No one's ever got you soaking their fucking cock" there's a mess going in between her and your mouth, everything so wet and messy, and fuck your pretty voice driving her insane.

Her hips kept on diving thrusts into you. Bouncing you up and down onto the soaking plastic, making a mess underneath. Her thighs being equally wet and her clit being hit just perfectly at how you clenched and bounced around the strap.

"Gonna cum f' me?" You nodded, feeling the knot on your stomach get yourself all weak and numb. You could still taste your lipstick, the outline of your lips wet down your chin. Fucking humiliated by her once more.

Ellie started hitting into your cunt with harsher bucks, desperately to make you cum, she felt close. Wet and obscene sounds filling the room. Smacks that splattered the slick shared, groans and a stoic figure wuickly replaced by whined and shacky hands roaming over your body, playing with your ass, gripping it so harshly.

Her eyes wanderer over your face, down your body, enamored by the creamy arousal that drowned your pussy leaking down her cock so deliciously. "Can't- Ellie" and just like that there was such pretty mess down your thighs. Your unsteady breathing accompanied by whines. Fuck she would never get over you.

Her fingers quickly plugged inside your sensitive cunt, clenching around her for one last time. All to stuff you back in and get a taste of her hard work.

Months of watching you fuck with random girls, wanting to get rid of them the moment they came outside your house. Months of wishing it was her making you feel this nice. She'd achieved it.

Her fingers popped into her mouth, kissing you next, almost instantly. She had to share, didn't she?

"Always such a good girl f' me, aren't you?"

1K notes · View notes

majestyeverlasting · 20 days ago

Note

Nello! I have a request/suggestion for a Bucky drabble-y something if you'd like it. Maybe he's on a mission or there's an attack and it's going *very* poorly for him but he gets saved by a sweet civilian who's probably hopped up on a LOT of adrenaline

𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲 | 𝐛.𝐛.

A/N Thank you so much for this request, anon! Bucky isn’t on a mission, per se, more like he ends up making a certain situation his “mission.”

Pairing Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary After an unexpected and intense fight, you’re the kind stranger who comes to Bucky’s aid. Except, you can’t shake the pressing feeling that you’ve seen each other once before. [fluff, angst, firing of a weapon, 2.6k]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Darkness hangs over Hell’s Kitchen as the heavy beat of Bucky’s heart drums on. The high-pitched ringing in his ears nearly drowns out the trudge of his boots against the sidewalk. Each labored step sends another wave of pain radiating through his ribcage. By now, he’s far enough away from Nicolo’s Bistro to be seen, where police and ambulances are finally pulling up with glaring halos of red and blue, sirens wailing.

As Bucky turns into a dingy alleyway, he finally allows himself to release the pathetic grunts that have been attempting to claw out of throat since the moment he left the establishment. The pungent smell of garbage rides on the breeze as he presses his back up against the cool brick wall, sliding down until he hits the pebbled ground.

He can’t remember the last time being off his feet felt so good. That’s all he’d wanted upon entering the bistro earlier. To sit down and have a meal before venturing back to Brooklyn.

𝟷 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚁

The table he’s given along the front windows gives sight to the evening bustle outside. There’s a dim ambience to that place that’s homey and charming. Basil and garlic linger in the air. A waitress with a long jet-black ponytail takes his order of carbonara and the house red. Just as she leaves, three men in fedoras enter, with hard eyes and strong noses.

A wary feeling flutters in his gut.

Rather than being seated in the main dining room, they’re escorted into the back by a worker. Nicolo, the broad-shouldered owner of the restaurant, is no sooner notified of their arrival. The look of dread that washes over his face is Bucky’s second clue that something is amiss. But there’s an eerie calm that follows.

Halfway into his meal, hushed, angry voices finally emit from the back room. The only reason Bucky can hear them is the serum’s heightening of his senses:

Nicolo’s voice registers first, “Sobrini, please, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s well past time,” comes a gruff, thickly accented voice. “I invested in this shithole and haven’t seen anywhere near what I’m owed.”

“It’s coming—please, there has to be a better way,” Nicolo reasons. “There are customers out there.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck.”

That’s when a lone warning shot rings out.

A few patrons jolt in shock, heads whipping around. You startle as you take a sip from your bubbling glass of champagne, sending the liquid running down your chin.

Bucky's on his feet in an instant, “Everybody out!”

The moment you slip out of your booth, the confrontation spills out into the main dining area as Nicolo backs out of the room with his hands held up in surrender. All three men are stalking towards him, and the bulkier one—undeniably Sobrini—has a revolver drawn.

“Now they all get to see your brains being blown out,” he quips.

Bucky wastes no time rushing to the owner's defense, sprinting over to Sobrini, and using his vibranium hand to block a bullet when he pulls the trigger. Nicolo's face flushes with relief as he gratefully runs for the door, steering other frantic patrons out along the way.

With Nicolo gone, the group of mobsters redirect their anger to Bucky and his daring boldness.

“And who the hell are you?” Before Sobrini can pull the trigger again, Bucky disarms him with a few swift swipes and blows, bending the gun out of shape before letting it clink to the ground.

“Mikey, Vinny!” Sobrini growls.

Like two mad dogs given attack orders, the other men launch forward to gang up on Bucky. They’re stronger than he’s expecting—too strong. Super soldiers. Glasses and plates crash from the tables as Vinny, the taller of the two, kicks Bucky square in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards. He’s quick to recover, promptly delivering his own series of strikes in retaliation.

Heart hammering in your ears, you help usher the last of the patrons and employees outside. When you dare to look back in, Mikey has managed to get Bucky in a chokehold from behind. Only then do you notice the glint of his vibranium hand as he pries at the man’s thick forearm.

As Bucky coughs for air, realization dawns on you like a rushing tide. For a flicker of a second, he catches your eyes in the doorway before managing to free himself from the hold.

A second wind finds him as the brawl becomes a fierce three-on-one ordeal.

Nicolo pulls you away from the door for your own safety.

It’d been two years since Bucky’s last fight, and he hated that this made a part of him feel alive again.

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃

Just as his eyes begin to flutter closed with exertion, he hears a soft, urgent voice that he thinks he’s imagining. It prompts him to remember that he’s seated in a dirty alleyway, propped against a wall.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes dart over his bruised face, split lip, and bloodied knuckles. “Don’t close your eyes, stay with me.” You gently pat your hand against his stubbled cheek. Some of his long, dark hair is matted to the sweat on his face.

The only reason you knew where to find him is because you’d watched him stagger from the scene after neutralizing the three intruders in a feat of athleticism if you ever saw one. Your own hands are still buzzing with adrenaline.

He manages to meet your gaze, but his bloodshot blue eyes never focus. You can see that he’s trying, which only makes concern swell in your chest all the more.

“You need to go to the ER,” you say, brows furrowing. That seems to shake him a bit.

“No…” he trails off, then coughs, wincing. “No doctors. Please.”

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as if debating to heed his request. Looking out to the street, you see that nobody has taken notice of the two of you.

You then say, “Can you walk? My place isn’t far.”

•••

Climbing the stairs is the hardest part. Despite your offer to lean his weight on you, Bucky stubbornly relies on the railing for all four floors. By the time you unlock your apartment door and usher him inside, he realizes he’s made a mistake. He should’ve insisted he’d be fine, that after the initial shock wore off, his body would begin to mend itself back to wholeness.

Except, he can’t remember the last time someone had spoken to him so sweetly.

As selfish as it was, it felt good to be on the receiving end of genuine concern. Nowadays, people just assumed he was okay because he was the Winter Soldier, and that’s what the Winter Soldier was supposed to do—dust himself off and get back up. Yet here you were acting like he was someone worth being taken care of.

He all but collapses onto the couch once you lead him over to it. In the back of his mind, he worries about getting it dirty, but you don’t seem to care as you flutter out of the living room.

The air smells faintly of cinnamon and vanilla, and small decorative pumpkins sit on the windowsill. Pain pulses in his neck as he takes a better look around, but he does it anyway. The entire space is modest and cozy, clearly lived-in and well-loved.

By the time you come back, he’s dozed off, thick thighs spread and chin tucked down to his chest. This happens sometimes—his body crashes into sleep to facilitate healing. It only occurs when he feels safe. Otherwise, the rush of adrenaline keeps him wide awake.

He can just barely register the gentleness of your movements as you tilt his head up to dab away the blood with a cool towel. You continue on like that, cleaning up the wounds that broke the skin, which thankfully aren’t too plentiful. Occasionally, his eyes flutter open, but you never ask him any questions or force him to talk. A comfortable silence settles between you until all the dried blood is gone.

An hour later, he wakes up, finding that he’s stretched along the entirety of the couch with a blanket draped over his frame. His pain has subsided immensely. As he sits upright, he notices that you’re curled up in the accent chair. A special news report drones low on the TV.

“All the men have been taken into custody,” you tell him. Bucky eyes flitter over your face as you speak, realizing that his mind is finally clear enough to welcome the whispers of recognition.

He’d seen many people over the course of his long life, and your face was among those he’d never be able to forget.

You continue as his heart rises into his throat, “They don’t know it was you who saved everyone,” you say, toying with the hem of your sweater. “If they do, they haven’t said your name.”

The air goes dead silent for a fleeting moment.

“You know my name?” It’s a question he already knows the answer to.

You study his face, handsome even with the bruises. “James Buchanan Barnes, the Asset, the Winter Soldier…”

He swallows thickly, abruptly standing to his feet as guilt and shame churn in his stomach. “Thank you for your help, but—”

“Please don’t go,” you insist. It feels like you’re staring straight through him.

“I have to. I’m sorry.” He weaves towards the door, heat rising to his cheeks.

The events of an afternoon from many moons ago come rushing into the forefront of his mind. First, a group of suited men barking orders as he listened with emotionless eyes. Then the glint of his metal arm wrapped around the neck of a S.H.I.E.L.D. contractor on Park Avenue. As the man strangled out pleas, your cries joined in, begging for the life of your friend to be spared—

Bucky thinks back to earlier when he was being choked, the sense of helplessness.

You stand from the chair but don’t follow after him. “Did you want to take a shower at least?” you offer, hope infused into your words. It only made sense considering the sweat and grime still lingering on his skin.

The thought of a shower sounds too good. But not here, not now. He never should’ve come.

—As the contractor had gripped at his Bucky’s arm for mercy, he remembered glaring over at you. The mask concealing the lower half of his face hid his snarl, but his glare could cut stone. Except, you weren’t made of stone. You were skin, and bone, and desperation. It ended up being your fear-ridden eyes that did all the cutting.

It was as if you were wordlessly pleading, please, you don’t have to do this. Like you could see that he was trapped inside the prison of his own being.

But by the time his hold went slack around the man’s neck, it was already too late. His body slumped lifelessly to the ground.

“I forgive you," you call out right as Bucky steps into the hallway and is seconds away from closing the door.

That stops him in his tracks and sends a chill through his bones.

“Please don’t go,” you say, much softer.

•••

Tucked away in an old journal, was a list of amends Bucky was supposed to make. He’d managed to cross off all those names. But there’s no way he’d ever be able to account for every life he changed, every friend and family member he snatched away from people he would never even come to know.

This reality weighs heavy on him as he stands in the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his hips. Sometimes he didn’t recognize himself when he looked in the mirror. Faint knocking sounds at the door.

He clears the thickness from his throat, “Yes?”

“Special delivery,” you say lightly. “My neighbor had some clothes to spare.”

When he opens the door, your eyes flick to his torso, the bruising along his ribcage. There’s a dusting of hair on his chest, and a line of it that leads down from his bellybutton. It takes a second for you to register that he isn’t wearing his vibranium arm. Maybe it's because of the steady, broad way he’s standing there as if the limb isn’t gone at all.

He accepts the clothes, “Thank you.”

Bucky doesn’t close the door as he turns to set them on the sink. In the process, you notice there are old scars on his back with dark new bruises mixed amongst them. Before you can stop yourself, you step forward, brushing over his shoulder blades with tentative fingers. He straightens, briefly closing his eyes at the tenderness.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” You begin to back out of the room. “I have painkillers if they’d help.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m alright.”

“I’ll let you get dressed then.”

Moments later, Bucky finds you in your room seated on the side of your bed. Your startle, swiping at the tears beneath your eyes before turning to look at him. When he sees that you’ve been crying, he feels like the worst person in the world again, an awful feeling resettling in his gut.

“I can go,” he says.

You shake your head and pat the space beside you.

Bucky lingers in the doorway until giving in. The mattress dips as he sits, making sure to leave ample space between you. Even then you can feel the warmth of his proximity, smell your body wash on his skin. Neither of you say anything for a while.

“Why are you doing all this?” For such an imposing man, his voice comes out small.

“Because I see you.” Bucky swallows at your words, gaze remaining on the floor. “I saw you eight years ago, and I see you now.”

He realizes then, that if he truly wanted to, he would’ve left already. He didn’t know what he wanted, what more he was expecting. He’d already taken enough—your friend, your resources, your time.

“You know what I believe?” Bucky waits for you to continue. “That you’re a good person,” you say solemnly.

“You didn’t even hesitate back at Nicolo’s. You stepped right up.”

“It was nothing,” he lightly dismisses.

“Nothing?”

Bucky looks over at you, and you raise your brows. “It was the right thing to do,” he finally says.

“And you easily could’ve just walked away.”

He gets your point then. The plates of his arm whir softly.

“I was angry at you for a long time,” you admit. “Even though I knew who you were, the control you were under.”

“I’m sorry—”

“And the more time that passed, the more I realized my anger wasn’t entirely fair,” you say. “Life’s not fair. But staying rooted to the same spot doesn’t do anyone any good.”

Bucky doesn’t pull away when you reach over and take his hand in yours, gently running your fingers over his bruised knuckles in a mix of sympathy and wonder. He watches as you flip his palm face-up, tracing the lines with a delicate touch. He feels it all the way up his arm, the gesture painfully intimate. Having seen each other at your lowest, most vulnerable moments has a way of knocking down walls.

“Ask me why I’m doing all this again,” you say.

Bucky meets your gaze. “Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Outside, distant sirens wail into the Manhattan night.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female yn #sebastian stan

531 notes · View notes

fics-lovebot · 1 year ago

Text

jungkook fic recs

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

i´ll be constantly updating this list so make sure to check it out often for new recs ;)))

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

disclaimer: if you came back to read that one fire fic you liked but can´t find it, its bc the link wasn´t working anymore so I deleted it :/

last updated: 08/08/2024

yandere / mafia / bad boy

romantic dreams - ( @kooktrash ) yandere!jungkook, tattoo artist jk, boxer!jk, UGHH ITS GOODDD, he´s so toxic frfr, namjoon is sick of his ass lmao, totally obsessed with reader, jealous and possesive af, he´s crazy sdlfjs but i´m into it

toxic noona - ( @aajjks ) yandere!noona, toxic controling relationship, jk is a victim, he´d rather die than leave, reader likes to make him cry, manipulation

crafting new memories - ( @peachypinkygloss ) yandere!jk FR, stockholm syndrome, jk kiddnaped reader and fucks her while making her watch herself on the news,,,her own missing sign

yours insanely - ( @smileyoongle ) yandere!jk, serial killer jk, detective!reader, he kills women who look like you, so interesting to read

darknet - ( @darkestcorners ) yandere!jk, the internet is scary, human trafficking, jk is scary dangerous, it´s a LOT, just wow

who is in control? - ( @ctrlsht ) yandere-ish, lawyer!jk, posessive jk, obsessive jk, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, secret relationship, he´s cray-cray

hybrid au / soulmate au / super hero au / alien au

bunnytalk - ( @woncon ) bunny hybrid jk, owner reader, jk is a sad bunny bc reader won´t return his feelings but it´s all just a misunderstanding

night vision - ( @bonny-kookoo ) e.r, alien!jk, suggestive, lowkey smut, bunny hybrid reader, jk has tentacles ,,,,,nothing else to say, flirty fluffy jk, this is dIFFERENTTTT i love it

closer - ( @blublublujk ) smut, step siblings au, noona reader, yandere!jk, jk is obsessed with him older step sister, WHEWWW this is intense, very detailed, loved it

slice of life / university au / idol

you make him go crazy - ( @onlyswan ) fluff, idol!jk, slight angst, multiple scenarios, reader is constantly making him go nuts, he is STRESSED lmao, it´s cute anyways, reader is kind of a careless brat but jk wouldn´t have it any other way

you wear his clothes - ( @nochukoo97 ) fluff, thing is...HE gives you his clothes, he´s so boyfriendd

call me soon - ( @peachypinkygloss ) summer break up, strangers to fwb to lovers, obsessed jk

screw up; over wine - ( @koocycle ) finance major jk x model!reader, first date drabble, he is really into reader so he takes her to a fancy pricey wine and dine but guess wHAT.. he is broke lmao so he straight up PANICS, lowkey highkey secondhand embarrasment but it´s jk so it ends in a cute way

kiss me better - ( @jaykaysthicthighs ) angst, jerk jk, mean jk, misunderstanding, manhandling, he is crying bc he assumed she was cheating but he was sooo wrong, now he is begging, crying, throwing up,,, they make up anyways, its angsty in a satisfying way

you´re sleepy but you promised you´d go grocery shopping with him - ( @thvhoe ) e.r, its cuteeeee

couple questions with vogue - ( @kjdkive ) fluff, e.r, idol!jk, supermodel!reader, I LOVE THISSSS, he is the best boyfriend/fiancé soon to be hubby EVER UGHHHH its so cute

devoted to trouble - ( @jeonsweetpea ) fluff, lil angst, smut, comedy, spiderman!jk au inspired by seven??? a masterpiecE. the world finds out he is spiderman but he dgaf bc he only cares about you, #pininggg, reader playing hard to get, man i love tHIS

show you what devotion is - ( @thvhoe ) boxer!jk, ballerina!reader, fluff, angst. you´re like his safe place, it´s giving exes to wannabe lovers, they deff like each other and jk wants to eat her uP but he´s wants it to be romantic and stuff, idk idk I liked itttt

you surprise him for his birthday - ( @nochukoo97 ) he´s so boyfriendddddd, this is so wholesome and cute

he can´t sleep bc he loves you so much - ( @onlyswan ) now THIS makes me want to drink bleach and die bc of how cute it is, THEY ARE SO IN LOVEEEE, there´s a lot of giggling, a lot of praising, a lot of disgustingly sweet loving talk after sex :´)))))) its such a good read i promise

fighting heart - ( @kooktrash ) boxer!jk, fluff, angst, he´s so stressed sldfkj, reader gets in a small accident and jk went crazy when a nurse answered your phone

make a wish - ( @euaphoric ) fluff, little smut, best friends to lovers, reader is so sweet, birthday surprise, jk shoots his shot, he only wants to spend his birthday with you

daft pretty boy - ( @jeonqkooks ) basketball cap!jk, classmates to lovers ig, see he´s smart but when he´s with you he gets nervous and forgets how to exist, he lowkey confesses and he´s sraightforward with itt, he´s got a hUGE crush on you lmao

ride - ( @ohjeon ) strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, jk is a fucc boy on campus, reader has tattoos and rides the coolest bike, jk has an instant crush, love at firts sight i would say, got him blushing and sweating lmao, this is an on going series but I KNOW it´ll be gREAT, I love it already

in your arms - ( @kookslastbutton ) e.r, fluff, smut, morning secs, waking up by his side for the first time after moving in

encore - ( @jjungxkook ) game designer!jk, he is cool af, has a fat crush on reader, this is just the teaser of the fic but I really like it

crave you - ( @7deadlysinsfics ) idol!jk, crack, smut, fluff, hispanic choreographer reader, texting, taejikook, jk is HORNY but he´s a softie too, he´s got a big big fat crush, strenght kink bc we all know he can throw her around like a ragdoll

pretty girl - ( @bts-trash-blog ) smut, tattoo artist!jk, chubby reader, THIS IS ITTTTT, he´s tall, dark and handsome, flirty af too, "pretty girl" stFUUUU, they both want to fuck so he shoots his shot at the tattoo appointment

easy - ( @itsamejin ) angsty, fuckboy jk, bet!trope, jk plays you so he can get his rent paid, i read this one a lawwngg time ago and decided i was an angst loving hoe

Inevitable - ( @ahundredtimesover ) angst, fluff, smut, lovers to exes to lovers, baseball player!jk, dad!jk, parents au, you break up with jk years ago after you got pregnant bc you wanted him to follow his dreams and now he´s back home just to find out there´s a boy who looks just like him.. this is a masterpiece, honestly one of THEE best jk series out there, it has it all fr, the angst is angsty and the fluff is FLUFFY, i love it sm i´ve read it 3 times and never get tired of it

finish line - ( @bonny-kookoo ) fluff, nerdy!jk, racer!jki loooooveee itttttt, so cute, so fluffy, this blurb uGHHHHH, just read the whole thing pls

ungodly hour - ( @explicit-tae ) crack, smut, fluff, college au, broke college student!reader, lowkey slutty!reader, jk is thirsstttyyyyy, simping atp, "who´s dick do i have to suck for a hulu account?" this series is honestly so funny ksjakskjs

disney + and bust - ( @1kook ) angst, fluff, smut. yall already know i love to see man crying and begging for forgiveness :p, so kook is ur succesfull "app developer" bf and he says some very hurtfull things to you out of anger

rattled - ( @gukslut ) complete series, single dad au, angst, smut. honestly? one of the best fics out there. I read this a long time ago and i´m still in awe. The way this is written makes you feel every word. also, the plot is so so unique. i love it.

ceo au / sugardaddy au / rich bf au / coworker au

Over The Odds | The Confession - ( @jungk0oksthighs ) ceo jk, sugardaddy jk, jealous bf jk, sugar baby reader, he gets mad and yells bc he is lowkey insecure of her ex but reader is equaly in love. this is a series

wrong time - ( @spideyjimin ) smut, angst, dilf!jk, ceo!jk, exes to lovers, workaholic as a scape mechanism, the one that got away type of stuff but she broke things up first for valid reasons, big big heartache but she´s still the love of his life

don´t blame me - ( @ctrlsht ) sugar daddy!jk, ceo!jk, soft yan!jk, obsessive!jk, student!reader, unhealthy behavior on his part, manipulative behavior on her part, jealousy on both parts, he goes a lil too far but reader is bitchy and annoying, he lit gives her everythinggg she asks for, the man is..creazy about her in a very unhealthy way and she takes advantage of that, toxicc

failed quickie - ( @vminizzle ) cowerker jk, suggestive, they´re about to fucc on an elevator but it didn´t work, he likes his hair pulled!!1!

someone older - ( @bonny-kookoo ) smut, ceo jk, divorced jk, 30 something yo jk, taehyung has a kid, younger oc, its a nice read, would do it again

break up au / cheating au / fuckboy au

night after night - ( @brown-bi-beautiful ) smut, angst, crack, fluff, semi-retired fuckboy jk, red flag jk, stalker jk, break up au, lovers to exes to lovers, he fucked around and found out so he is FREAKING ouT, also he is beggING okk.. we love that, he also has a Harley bc he is bad boy™, they make up anyways bc he is pussy whipped.. or in love, whatevs you wanna call it

seven plus one - ( @jvngkoos ) smut, angst, they break up for like a week and that shit got him SIMPING fr, standing under the rain begging and stuff, the man is obsessed, we love it

pwp / fwb

you good?? - ( @mono-moonchilds ) drabble, smut, "what if you gave jungkook head?" is righT bc i´ve been thinking about it for a min!!! he is mean ok yall know he is a brat buT, the head is too good to do all that, the man was shaKINg for godssakeee, so good he had to answer with a thumbs up bc reader drained him fr, left him so brain dead he couldn´t even speak

afterglow - ( @elitekook ) smut, fwb!jk, slight possessive!jungkook, dirty talking, degrading nicknames, but he cares ok, he´s trying to get out of the friend zone

come sit on my lap - ( @euphoricfilter ) pwp, lots of praisingg, they way this is written is good yall, "use me" , “so polite” shUT UPPPP im literally blushing, AND he is also cute at the end?? i hate it heREEE :´)

he has a lot of cum - ( @euphoricfilter ) boyfriend!jk, the title I- , he DOES have a lot of cum, lots of stamina, lots of everYTHING, and on toP of those small details, wdym he wants to see how many times he can cum in you before it´s too full and it starts to spill????? somebody stop this man

riding jungkook´s nose - ( @euphoricfilter ) we´ve ALLL thought about this, and if you haven´t you´re lying, periodt. pRAISINGGG, he´s in a pussy-drunk frenezy, he likes feeling used, he likes getting his hair pulled, he likes getting his face wET, it´s sickenINGGGG goreaditplease

fucking in the gym - ( @euphoricfilter ) this was inspired by that one pic of him and jimin with their back out, I SEE THE VISION, fucking with ceiling mirrors

wicked - ( @noteguk ) smut, incubus!jk, big big corruption kink, lots of dirty ploting and dirty talk, yupppp this is a good one, so detailed, love me a fic that lit makes me see what i´m reading

3K notes · View notes

inf3ct3dd · 1 month ago

Text

HARD WORK.

summary: your grandmas retirement to hawaii finally let you escape the annoying city life. but as it turns out, being a country girl aint easy work. luckily a hot stranger with a truck full of rakes and hoes has taken a liking to you.

gardener abby x black!oc

warnings: I AM A FREAK FOR GARDENER ABBY. little bit of creepy perv behavior, stalking, SEX

wc: 4.6k

authors note: heyyy guys miss u 😈 if anyone gaf i’ll post a part 2 cuz yk how i be… ts long as hell

abby noticed your presence about a week after you had moved.

she had recognized the yellow house, a familiar sight when she went on her drives to clear her head. it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. it was one of only three houses on the block, recognizable by the pale paint and the burnt orange front porch. she often wondered how the owners maintained it, as it was full of plants and trees. a big front yard with wildflowers, a cherry tree by the garage, and flower pots galore. its gorgeous. she also dreamed of what was behind the big door to the backyard, but she could see the faint sight of green trees from the top of it. its a beautiful house, no doubt. and the foliage was always kept perfect. bushes trimmed, lawn mowed, and the trees left the perfect shade for the summer time. she’d love to work there, but it seemed that the owners had it under control.

until you moved in.

after a while, she noticed the lawn becoming slightly overgrown, the bushes losing their shape, and the tree was dropping cherries all over the adorable pink slug bug in the driveway. she had taken that the original owners had moved out, but she had no idea who had replaced them. and clearly, that replacement had no idea how to tend to that house.

and then, she finally caught sight of you.

it was around about 3:30, if she remembered correctly. give or take five minutes. she was on her usual drive, exhausted and irritated from having to tell a woman that her grass would take at least a month to grow back from its butchered state. a bad raccoon problem left the entire yard torn, holes and dead yellow grass everywhere. but she had that off her mind now. she turned on her car stereo, old dad rock silencing her thoughts as she drove. the road you have to take to drive by the house is basically inside the forest. big, green trees on each side, a bumpy gravel road, and big hills. it was always a smooth ride, and the cool breeze from her window was a relief after sweating for 5 hours straight. she always hung her left arm out of the window, so much so that its slightly tanner than the other.

when she finally got to the house, she forgot everything she was thinking about. she even forgot where she was for a moment, making her stop the car.

she finally caught gaze of .. you. bent over the grass, seemingly trying to weed the garden. all she could see of you was your ass, and she wasn’t exactly complaining about the view. the denim shorts you were wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination. along with the booty shorts, (the name very fitting), you had on a green spaghetti strap that clung to you like a wet suit. you had clearly been out there for a while, sweat pooling on the shirt and a drop sliding down the obvious cleavage in your shirt. she tried so hard to pull away, to leave you alone and not be a creep, but she couldn’t. it was like everything was moving in slow motion as she was eyeing you, and she slowly made her way up to your face after staring at your tits for an inappropriate amount of time. you had thick, black curls, that were pulled up haphazardly into a high ponytail. probably to get it out of your way while you worked. its clear you take advantage of how remote your house is, sitting in the yard looking like that. its unsafe, what if a weird freak comes over and stares at you from his truck?

abby quickly realized that she was the weird freak in question. even with the headphones in your ears, you noticed the presence behind you. you felt the rumbling of the truck through the ground, given the fact you were barefoot. you turned around to look at her, moving a curl out of your eyes and behind your ear. you raised a brow at the truck, confused. you couldn’t make out the person inside, with your glasses resting on the porch. you squinted and saw a rough image of some..blond person? you stared for a while longer, almost considering walking up to them . what’re they looking at? were you that bad at gardening?

abby was frozen the second you turned around. she definitely stared longer than she should have, not even noticing that you were staring as well. you had a confused look on your face as you squinted over at her. it was almost as if you couldn’t see her. when she thought the two of you made eye contact, she instantly started driving away. she tried to pull away slowly, to not be suspicious, but she zoomed down the road like a derby horse.

fuck. did she see me?

almost as soon as you saw the car, it drove away. they must’ve noticed you caught them and got embarrassed. who is that? you had seen a blob that sort of looked like blonde hair, but not much else. it was hard to discern anything from that, so you focused on what you did see. you felt like you had seen the car before, but then again, so many people have black pickup trucks around here. and its not like it had any significant details you’d remember it by, it was just a plain truck. not even a funny bumper sticker or something! its like the exact opposite of your car, the back of your beetle is covered in cute stickers, and you even got heart shaped rims. their car was different. it was so…rugged. whoever it is probably does some sort of hard job, like construction or something.

you shrugged off the whole thing, getting a bit too sweaty for your liking and heading inside. you wondered to yourself if they’d stop by again, maybe you should keep an eye on your window!

while you were pondering over who the mysterious figure in the truck was, the figure herself was freaking out. she couldn’t stop imagining you on that lawn, seeing your confused face and glossy pout as you stared at her. did you even realize someone was looking at you? did you feel weird and scared now? was that the absolute most pervy thing she could’ve done?? and most importantly, would you notice if she did it again? she shook the thought as soon as it came. she was practically berating herself, mumbling “don’t be weird” under her breath. she tried to think about other things. the smell of the trees lining the road. the tree in your front yard. fuck, this is difficult.

eventually, she settled on thinking about your yard. she tried not to focus on the image of you bent over in front of it, and her behind you, and she slowly remembered something. you could not garden for shit. you had missed a bunch of huge strips mowing, the bushes were lopsided, and you were knee deep in weeds. it was obvious you had no idea what you were doing, and she knew it would be so easy to fix it.

“looks like you need some help.” she uttered from behind you on the front yard, and you turned around, puzzled.

“you think so?” you stared up at her, doe eyes nearly punching her in the chest. you were still sweaty, in the same tank top.

“yeah, you look hot. let me cool you off.” and with that, she grabbed at the bottom of the shirt. “can i”-

“abby. cut it out.” she pulled herself out of the daydream, realizing she had stopped her car once again. thankfully, the road was completely empty, so she kept driving. there wasn’t anything worth staring at over here, so she kept it pushing. freak.

she tried to push whatever happened earlier to the back of her mind all day. but its like she got hypnotized. she drove up to her house, and she stupidly expected to see you in her front yard. she went inside, and she wondered what the inside of your house looked like. does she have carpet? what color are her walls?

she quickly shut down the thought of “walls” as an…untasteful image appeared in her head. she took a shower, a near freezing one, and she imagined what type of showers you like. or if you were even a shower person, maybe you liked baths. you’d probably shriek if you stepped into the shower and it was the wrong temperature. she imagined you sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the water run over your fingers until it was justtt right. she imagined you sitting down in the tub, and - nothing. she didn’t imagine anything else.

she cooked herself some pasta for dinner, and sat down on her couch to eat. do you like spaghetti? she started thinking about that scene in the lady and the tramp, except you and her replaced the dogs. once again, she shut that down right after she started. she ate her food and threw her dishes in the sink, almost running to her bedroom. because she was tired. no other reason.

you had gotten a call from your grandma a little while after you went inside. you didn’t necessarily want to talk to anyone right now, but you owed it to her after she basically gave her house to you for free. she talked for what felt like forever, about her new house, the beach, everything. and after a million “really”s and “oh wow”s, she asked you to show her the house.

you showed her around the inside first, panning around the living room, kitchen, and all the rooms, she was very satisfied with how clean you kept the house. its easy to take care of when its just you making the messes, and not an aggravating messy roomate. you felt like a lonely housewife who’s husband left for war.

afterwards, you went out into the backyard. her smiling face turned into a confused grimace within seconds.

“honey, who did the lawn?” she asked, so much concern in her voice you’d assume she just walked in on a crime scene.

“i did! doesn’t it look good?” you chimed, confused on why she sounds like you’ve just killed a man.

“…no. it looks like a hot mess. you missed like, three spots! and lord, what did you do to my bushes?” she let out a loud sigh.

“…i trimmed them?” your pride was wiped off your face, a small frown replacing it.

“i don’t even wanna see the front. you know what, you need to find a gardener. someone. as long as its not you. ill pay for it myself, just…don’t touch anything.”

“at least my plants aren’t dead and the grass is still green.” she mumbled under her breath, hanging up the phone.

where the hell are you gonna find a gardener?

with your spirits crushed, you sat with your computer and your glasses resting on your nose, “how to fix a messed up lawn” reflecting on the glass. r/lawncare said to leave it and let it re-grow before mowing it again, evenly. wait at least a week or two and keep watering it. but don’t touch it.

so, you decided to listen. the gardener hunt could wait till later, you were sleepy. you ended up dozing off on the couch watching chopped, and you had forgotten all about it by the morning.

abby however, can’t forget anything.

after a long, sleepless night, abby was running out of things to distract herself. why was she going borderline insane over some random girl? she’s seen hot girls before. were you a witch or something?

she went through her day with the same irritating questions going through her head. what does she listen to when she drives? what does she order at the coffee shop? whats her name?

she realized by the time she was on her lunch break she needed to answer at least one of her questions. she already knew where you lived, whats the harm in knowing your name?

she had slightly known your grandma, only the fact that they owned the farm that was down the road from the house. and that it was named after their last name. small town advantage, am i right?

after googling the last name, a facebook profile showed up. presumably exactly who she thought it was. she scrolled through pictures of her at the beach, on family vacation, unfunny memes,and a post that made her chuckle for a whole minute.

she knew she was in the right place now.

after scrolling for a while longer, she found exactly what she was looking for: a picture of you and the woman, your arm slung around her shoulder. you looked like you were at a wedding, all dolled up in a green satin dress with your hair down. you were wearing glasses, too.

“so she probably didn’t see me.”

you looked just as gorgeous as yesterday, and the picture was captioned “my beautiful granddaughter r ♥️💐😘🥰” and there was many more of her old lady friends and relatives calling you gorgeous. didn’t she know it.

she typed the name , your name, into facebook yet again, and there you were. the profile picture was of you as a baby, little black curls pulled into two pigtails as you grabbed at the camera with a cheesy smile. albeit, you only had two teeth, but it was definitely a smile. you’ve just always been cute, huh?

she looked down at the bio, and found everything else she needed to know. whos idea was it to make people give facebook all their personal information?

it was obvious this account was just for family, as it was mostly just reposts of your relatives posts and pictures she would deem “family friendly.” but the pictures were mostly of things other than you, like cats and pretty buildings you saw. it gave off the perfect, innocent impression to anyone who’d come across it.

but after finding your facebook, it didn’t take her much longer to find your instagram. and your tiktok. and your tumblr from when you were in highschool? maybe she was digging a little too deep.

your instagram wasn’t that stark of a contrast to your facebook. add a little more cleavage, and a much more active..social life, and it was basically the same. you hadn’t posted much with your friends in a while though, only stills of your plane and you relaxing in your new home. tough time making friends over here?

she snooped even more into your following, and at first there wasn’t anything really interesting. some music artists you liked, random cat accounts, and baking accounts. cute. but, after a while, she recognized something. the name of the place you worked at that she saw on your facebook. a veterinary office. the profile mostly had pictures of cats and dogs and some smaller animals, but when she saw a post about the offices pet fundraiser, she immediately recognized your face. cheesy smile, holding up a small kitten to your cheek. it was adorable.

she looked up the address in the account’s bio, and she saw that it was a 5 minute drive from her house. perfect coincidence. alice would love to take a walk after work today, wouldn’t she?

her snooping was interrupted by the alarm she had set for the end of her break. startled, she slightly jumped out of her seat before swinging her door open and plopping her phone in her back pocket. she knew what her plans for this afternoon were.

while abby was scheming up her stalkerish plans, you were just.. bored. you sat at the front desk, doodling one of the dogs you saw come in earlier with one earbud in your ear, fleetwood mac giving you soft background music to the emptiness of the lobby. with it being tuesday and all, it wasn’t very busy. your shift didn’t end for a few hours though, and you would rather be bored than busy.

you decided to people watch outside the window for a bit. you saw an old lady walking around with another old lady, holding coffee cups from the cafe down the street. they were engrossed in conversation, and you tried to lip read, but could only make up a few nonsensical words before they disappeared out of your view. a man walked by with his disgruntled teen daughter, headphones pulled over her ears with an annoyed grimace. once again, it looked like the father was saying something, but you had no idea what.

after a few more people walked past, you saw someone who actually…caught your eye. it was a tall blonde woman, hair weaved neatly into a braid that rested on her right shoulder. she had on a black tshirt that showed of her toned arms, and grey cargo pants with green grass stains on them. you tried to glance at her face, but she was facing the side. all you could really see was the outline of her curved nose, and the soft shape of her lips. her side profile looked perfectly carved, like a statue. she had on black over the ear headphones too, and she was holding a leash to a big german shepherd. shes hot, and she has a dog? you subconsciously started fixing your hair, just in case she was walking in here. she stopped near the door, and you nearly pounced to greet her. but your excitement was cut short when you saw her walk slightly further, and pull out a small stack of papers and a roll of tape. was she putting up fliers?

you watched her place one on the light post outside your building, holding the tape in her mouth as she did so. you tried hard not to drool all over your desk as you watched her. you couldnt make out what the paper said as she walked away, and you wasted no time going outside to see what it was.

and when you finally approached it, you felt as god himself was giving you an offering. the flier read "abby anderson gardening services.” there was a small graphic of a pretty flower, and an even more captivating image of the woman who had put up the flier. abby, that’s a sweet name.

you quickly ripped off one of the small pieces of paper on the bottom of the flier, placing it in your sweater pocket before skipping back into your work gleefully. a hot girl who was gonna save you from your gardening dilemma? somebody pinch you.

abby hadn’t had the smallest confidence her plan had worked. her heart was practically beating out of her chest, and the questions kept on pouring in. did she even see? will she even notice? what if she did see, and she recognized me as the freak who was ogling her outside her house? she planned all this perfectly. she spent 3 hours last night making those stupid fliers. scrolling through a million different fonts, searching through her camera roll for good pictures, she needed it to be as believable as possible. she had parked her truck well out of view a few blocks away, carried extra fliers, and brought alice with her to try and hide her true intentions. normal gardener walking her dog and putting up fliers, thats all she was. definitely not a weirdo that saw a girl pruning her front yard and got so hot and bothered that she devised a whole plan that would maybe get her to call her.

she shook her head, practically trying to shake away her thoughts, and she kept on walking.

you were telling yourself that you’d call her right when you got off work.

and after sitting on your bed for 5 minutes staring at her number typed into your phone, it was tomorrow.

and then tomorrow, it was the day after that.

the fear made absolutely no sense to you. you’re calling a gardener! whats the worst shes gonna say? ‘oh no, im not gardening for you because you’re stupid and also im going to run you over with my lawn mower.’ its her job to do this!! you had even saved her number in your phone as “hot gardener” so you wouldn’t forget her.

you were silently hoping that youd see her around somewhere. she’d approach you, start some dumb conversation, suddenly bring up the fact that shes a gardener, and then you get your “really? i’ve been looking for one!” moment. perfect meet cute.

but its like she vanished into thin air.

every time you went to work, or even out shopping, you were dolled up for no reason. wearing shirts with extra cleavage, making sure you have on lipgloss constantly, you were not taking any chances. even when you were doing the most mundane activities, you swiped on a layer of mascara before you left the house. just in case. but your luck wasn’t striking you at all. does she not live in the neighborhood?

abby definitely lived in the neighborhood. after checking her flier and seeing a missing phone number, she spent the whole night waiting for her phone to ring. she did anything and everything to try and keep her busy, which included cleaning her entire apartment and stalking your instagram. you had posted a picture of your cat on your story. cute.

after almost 5 hours of waiting around, she was pacing around her living room like a tiger in captivity. every notification she got she pounced at her phone, but she was continuously disappointed. no manny, i don’t want to go out tonight. dont ever text my phone again and also i hate you.

it was around 12:45 when her phone finally rang. she picked up instantly, barely letting it ring. she cleared her throat and tried to feign nonchalance in her voice. but instead of your sweet voice asking about her lawn, it was a telemarketer. she threw her phone on the couch and collapsed on her floor. it was gonna be a long night..

the next day, she knew she needed to check on you. what if something had happened? or, worse, what if you weren’t even the one who took the phone number? she came back the same way she did the first time she saw you, driving a liiiittle too slow past the vet office. and low and behold, you were perfectly fine. sat at the front desk talking to some girl with a cat. and when she looked at the flier, there was still only one slip missing. maybe you forgot?

she drove away, a childish pout on her face. it was pathetic , really.

when she was at the grocery store on the second day of waiting , that she definitely didn’t drive an extra five minutes to because it was close to you, she nearly had a heart attack when she saw you in the cereal aisle. cute hoodie and shorts on with your hair down. you seemed like you were having a hard time deciding between two cereals, holding the boxes next to each other and squinting. she imagined herself going up to you and delivering some smooth one liner about cereal that she was still trying to come up with, and carrying your groceries and you to your car. but as much as she wanted to, she kept her distance. heavily. she was looking around every five minutes like a shoplifter so she wouldn’t bump into you.

but not touching didn’t mean she couldn’t look. she saw you finally chuck the fruity pebbles into your basket, squeeze half the mangos on the display before picking one, and you last minute deciding to buy a pack of gum when you were checking out. she tried her hardest to not be jealous of the scrawny bag boy you smiled at, and when she finally saw you check out, she remembered she was supposed to be getting stuff for dinner. shit.

and the day after that, when she stopped at the gas station by your street because it was ‘cheaper’, she recognized your beetle in two seconds. she watched you step into the little mini market, clad in a pair of jean shorts and a random t shirt from a theme park , and she watched you walk out with a bag of hot cheetos as she pumped her gas. she had gotten a closer look at your bumper stickers, and she saw a small heart with a sunset flag. she couldn’t help but do a little fist pump when she got in her car.

none of her research was giving her any clarity though. she kept driving past her flier, day after day, and not a single other person had picked up a slip. was it even you who took it? are you gonna hire some other stupid gardener you found on your phone?

and on the third day, she had stayed home. she was beginning to give up hope you’d ever call, and she would never make a move first. especially if you had accidentally seen her on one of her little ventures. so, she cleaned her house again. she even dusted, thats how bored she was. the thoughts of you were constantly plaguing her. she almost took up mannys offer to go out tonight, try and get her mind off things.

but her mind stayed in the exact same place. her mind replayed the memory of you in the lawn yet again. she remembered the sweat dripping down your chest, the way your shorts were riding right up your thighs. she shoved her hand down her pants and imagined that they were yours.

she remembered how nice and smooth your voice sounded on the videos she saw. even though you never said much, even her imagining it made her even wetter. she kept rubbing her middle finger up and down her clit, picturing you whispering in her ear.

“you’re such a fucking creep. you keep watching me at work, following me around, and now you’re fucking yourself to me? we’ve never even met. you’re acting like a desperate slut for some random girl, you’re not embarrassed?”

the dialogue she was imagining in her head was getting her further and further. she almost imagined you saying it, the voice being strange and inconsistent to her. still, she moved faster, hearing the noise her slick covered fingers made as she moved. she kept letting out heavy breaths, flexing her hips upwards onto her hand.

“you know, you could’ve just come up to talk to me. how pathetic are you? can’t even talk to a girl?”

she imagined your breath on her neck, watching her. if she focused enough, she could feel the indent in her bed of you next to her. she started moving even faster, letting out loud moans as she pressed down on her clit even harder. she arched her back as she did, pushing her head against her headboard. she could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and she was practically humping her hand. she got sweatier and sweatier, the blanket covering her lower half not making it any better.

“are you really this desperate? you could-“

abbys fantasy was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing next to her. right when she was close. fuck. she nearly abandoned the phone call, but then the thought crossed her hazy mind. what if it was you?

so she wiped her hands on her boxers , took a deep breath, and answered her phone.

she tried not to get her hopes up, worried it might be another telemarketer. annoyed at the fact that she gave up cumming for some random person.

“hello? is this..-abby?”

#HARD WORK.#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson smut #abby x you #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou

704 notes · View notes

miabebe · 25 days ago

Text

The Intruder's Eye (CSC)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it didn't make one want to keep an eye at all times?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Choi Seungcheol

Word count - 6K (I failed the below 5k challenge T.T)

Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and a whole lot of pyscho-ness whelp Warnings under the cut!

A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you gooooo! I've already got a Jeonghan one out but personally I feel this is more deranged I'm sorry T.T I did try to tone it down a bit though! I have another one coming by the 31st so stay tuneddd

Again @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - what would I do without y'all 🫂 this piece is basically all you guys!

warnings - intruder in the house, mentions of stalking, medications, deranged characters, triggering descriptions of a home intrusion, smut, homemade porn (lol), bondage (mouth and hands), blowjobs, cum eating, riding, rough sex, mentions of toys and anal, manhandling, psycho behaviour, please forgive me I can only allow myself to be this unhinged during spooky season

It was the soft pitter patter of the rain against the car window that woke you up.

Slowly fluttering your eyes open, you looked out down the dark, lonely road on the other side, at the street lights were still obscured by the downpour. It's not as torrential as it was when you stepped out of the grocery store a while ago. It was too heavy for you to even drive then so you settled in your car for a while, waiting for the rain to get less harsh. You didn't realise when you fell asleep.

Looking at the 8pm flashing on your phone screen and the way darkness had engulfed everything around, a strange panic rose in you. You weren't really afraid of staying out too late but given the things that had been happening around you recently - you didn't want to take the risk.

Turning on the engine and shifting the gears, you took a deep breath, and started driving towards home.

The street was empty for the most part - not many cars were on the road given the warnings for the incoming storm earlier that day. You didn't have a choice but to leave - you were suddenly running low on supplies, the shopping list in your hand was almost a page long. You glanced at the groceries at the backseat with a satisfied sigh - guess the newfound cardio routine was doing a good job in working up your appetite.

As you neared your house, the streets became more illuminated, much to your relief. Unlike the rest of the town, your neighbourhood was a much safer space - there were streetlights, surveillance cameras and disguised cops always patrolling the area. Most people who resided here didn't know but many of the inhabitants of these row houses were in fact people placed on witness protection. You knew because you were one of them.

One year ago, your testimony in a high profile case had led to some very bad people finding themselves behind bars. In exchange, you were promised protection, leading to your identity being morphed and your life being relocated to this locality. You were promised that nothing would happen to you here, that you would be very safe. You believed it then, but not so much now - not when you turned into your street and noticed the camera at the end of it was short circuited. Perhaps the storms over the last few days had a hand in it.

You didn’t think much of it.

But maybe you should.

Because as you grabbed your groceries and ran to the door, fishing for your keys, you realised you didn't need them. The door was not locked.

You racked your brains to remember if you had locked the door before you left or if you were in too much of a hurry to beat the incoming rain. Your memory is a little fuzzy, it has been like that for awhile, but you were too cold and aching to just get inside to give it any further thought.

You must've forgotten to lock it - what other explanation could there possibly be?

Balancing the bags in one hand, you slowly pushed the door open as you stepped in, flipping the switches with bated breath.

Everything seemed fine, nothing felt out of place. Releasing a breath you tell yourself that everything is fine - you were clearly overthinking things. Paranoia had been a part of your life ever since the proceedings of that case - you were always wary, always suspicious, always scared. Though, you shouldn't be feeling that way anymore, you had taken your medication - you should be fine.

But how were you supposed to feel fine when every small thing made the hair on your skin stand. Like the curtains in the living room being open for example. You never kept the curtains open, especially not since your new neighbour moved in a few months ago.

He called himself Choi Seungcheolwhen he knocked on the door to offer an introduction. You didn't know if that was his real name or the one the cops had given him as a part of the programme. Either way you didn't ask him lest he might ask you yours in return - you didn't need your identity compromised, not when the gang of those convicts was still actively looking for you. You had simply nodded and shut the door.

Since then, you’ve always had the curtains closed. You had to, because somehow every time you looked out, Seungcheol was by his window, watching you. If you were being honest, Seungcheol was hot as fuck and a year ago, if a man like that was interested in you, you wouldn't have let him go. But things were different now - you couldn't trust anyone anymore.

Walking up to the window, you stumbled over the dumbbell in the way as you glanced at the neighbouring house. The two of your houses were the only ones on the street that weren't covered in Halloween decorations. It made sense - you were both single and did not have to deal with whining, crying, demanding children so there was no need for this facade.

But you weren’t that lackluster, you did buy and keep some candy for the trick or treaters though you wouldn’t know if Seungcheol had done the same - he didn't seem too particularly fond of children. He never let them near the house. In fact he never let anyone into his house. You had never seen a woman or a friendly face from town or even a family member step into his place - he pretty much always kept to himself. It’s not like anyone else in this neighborhood had the luxury for such anyway.

At present, there was no sight of him or even his silhouette, with how the curtains of his house were drawn but all the lights were still on. Sighing a little in relief, you do the same, shutting the blinds. Still feeling the weight of the dumbbell against your foot, you pushed it out of the way, wondering how it had displaced itself from the rest of the workout equipment in the first place. You hadn’t even used those in a while now.

Still lost in thought, you walked into the kitchen and as you turned the lights on, a shiver ran down your spine.

Something was off, something did not seem right.

At first glance everything seemed fine, but looking again carefully–nothing seemed right. The apron wasn't in its usual place by the spice rack, you don’t recall leaving out a glass of water on the counter, or leaving a packet of corn chips open. You never leave things out when you leave, you always put them away.

But things like this had been happening ever since you started your medication. You were more forgetful, and that was inconvenient but without your daily dosage it was like a fight between your nerves and caution - anything that moved invoked fear in you, every small sound made you shiver. There was no choice but to take those pills everyday. It was the only think keeping you sane.

Shaking your head, you organized everything back in place again. Everything was fine. You had taken an extra dosage right before you left the house, you were just a little fazed from all the chemicals. Surely it was just your imagination, it wasn't like anyone could have entered the house in your absence….right?

But there was a half eaten bowl of cereal in the sink and you… you were lactose intolerant, you didn't drink milk - that couldn't be yours. Hands shaking, you took a step back.

Someone was in this house.

Quickly opening the drawer, you grabbed a knife, gripping the handle hard and tight. The only question was, were they still in the house?

Wiping the sweat off your face, you took a small careful step out of the kitchen.

It was quiet, deadly quiet, there was not a sound to be heard, but the hum of the electrical appliances and the soft patter of the rain outside. Then you heard it, ears sharp and sensitive to the sound of water dripping. Slowly you moved towards the washroom, holding your weapon out, breath shaking.

When you cautiously pushed the door open you noticed the floor was wet, water leaking from the shower head, drop after drop. You've never had this problem before, did you have a plumbing issue?

Stepping in, you tried to fix the faucet with your free hand. But no matter how many times you adjusted the hardware, water continued to drip, rendering you unsuccessful in your attempts. It felt like a really strong hand had broken the tap which was silly because you were definitely careful with how you handled your things? Neither could have broken this nor clearly, could you fix it. Annoyed by your failure and the thought of calling maintenance, you stepped out of the shower, catching sight of yourself in the mirror.

There was a strange tiredness etched all over your features, hiding a stranger something behind it. Your eyes had sunken further into their sockets, thin wisps of hair framing your face - You’ve definitely had better days and was… was that a knife in your hand?

You glanced at it quizzically. Why did you step into the shower with a knife?

Softly smacking your head at your silliness, you walked back into the living room, leaving the tap for another day. Half yawning with tiredness were ready to retire for the night when your eyes fell on the grocery bags still waiting for you on the table - you had forgotten about it. Groaning at the thought of having to put everything away, you set the knife on the dining table and grabbed your purchases instead, taking them into the pantry. Perhaps it was because you were too deeply immersed in your organisation, but your otherwise sharp ears missed the rustling of the leaves outside, crunching under someone’s footsteps.

Going through the grocery checklist scribbled in horrible handwriting to make sure you had gotten everything, you swiftly began putting them all in their place. The pastas in the jars, the fruits in the baskets, the sauces in the tray. The heaviest thing you bought was perhaps those huge jars of protein powder. You weren't really sure why you decided to buy it - sure your doctor said you were too weak and needed to exercise to build strength but you didn't need to buy all of the products the Internet recommended to you.

Telling yourself you'll find use for it later, you pushed them onto the shelves and turned to the meat instead, throwing them into the fridge. You didn't really know how to cook meat too well but you wanted to try. Seungcheol had once grilled some meat in his backyard and came over to offer you a few bites. When you tried to take it from him at the door, he pulled his hand back and cocked his head.

“Are you not going to invite me inside?”

He was always trying to make a move on you like that. You knew what he wanted, you knew what he had his eyes on but the answer was, no. You could take the deliciously cooked meat from him but couldn't let him into the house. It was too soon to trust him.

But Seungcheol was relentless.

It was evident with how he was the only one in town who turned up at the video store where you worked. And he came everyday. Normal people didn't borrow a new movie everyday, right? Clearly he was flirting with you. Or at least he was trying to. You only ever behaved professionally with him . Except sometimes, when he asked for movie recommendations of a very specific genre. You didn't really know many serial killer documentaries or crime podcasts to suggest, so you would simply ask a colleague to take over. Over the days, you watched him consume every last bit of thrillers available in the store and distantly wondered if he had a life outside of this consumption.

Perhaps not. Seungcheol seemed a bit odd like that.

He talked to everyone in town but didn't really seem to have any friends. He wasn't home for days together sometimes - you didn't really know the nature of his job so you couldn't tell why his absence was so frequent. He always drove that tiny pickup truck of his with some weird boxes and bags hidden under big blue plastic sheets in the trunk. .

The whole deal about him was just not right. You knew something about him was not right. Even though he was incredibly pleasant on the eye, you had to be wary of him.

You had to be wary of everything. .

But maybe you weren't always as alert as you should be. Because it was only as you were putting away the last of the snacks that you heard that sound - the thumping.

It seemed like it was coming from outside…. Or was it upstairs? It felt like it was coming from right above, like the sound of someone's feet.

And just like that,, you remembered the intruder again - the one who might still be in your home.

Quickly you rushed to grab the knife from the table once more and held it out in defense. Whoever came to the house was most definitely still here, you could feel it in your bones.

As you slowly made your way towards the stairs, trying to maintain a soft footfall to avoid the creaking of the stairs, another sound took you aback.

No, not your racing heart - The doorbell.

Turning sharply, you glanced at the door with wide eyes. Who could it possibly be? At this late hour?

The ringing only became more persistent, morphing into knocks while you inched towards the door, grip on the knife tightening.

As you slowly pressed down the handle and slightly opened the door, you were met with cheerful voices, much to your relief.

“Happy Halloween!”

Before you was a tiny ghost, a pirate, a couple of princesses and a buzz lightyear, all half your height, looking at you surprised.

“Ms. L/n!”

“Hey kiddos.”

“Where's Mr. Choi?” The pirate pouted. “We thought we could finally get him to be nice to us, hand us some treats.”

“Aw.” You pinched his cheek with your free hand. The one that was not hiding the knife behind the door. “Mr. Choi isn't in town sadly.”

The little kid looked at you quizzically. “Then what are you doing in his house?”

Oh.

You blinked at him while he looked up at you expectantly.

Then your lips split into a sweet, saccharine smile.

“He asked me to look after it while he was gone.”

“When will Mr. Choi be back?”

You glanced at the inquisitive little ghost, fiddling with the knife in your hand.

Please, please don't make me use this.

“Do you want an answer or candy?” You cocked your head cheekily. “I'm only giving out one.”

“Candy!” They screamed as you laughed and reached for the packet you had just bought, ripping it open with the knife.

They watched excitedly as you dropped handfuls of chocolate into their little baskets and plastic pumpkins. With a scream of “Ms. L/N is the best!” they scurried away to their next target of the night. And so did you, tossing the knife onto the table once again.

You clutched your head and released a low hiss of irritation at the dull throb.Those stupid medicines were really getting to your head now, you were forgetting too many important things. Thank fuck for the children, otherwise you would have never remembered what really had to be done.

Locking the door behind you, you quickly made your way up the stairs. There was no need to head softly - the stairs had a tendency to creak in your house, not in Seungcheol’s.

The thumping from earlier was more pronounced now as your senses slowly cleared up, much like how the light flooded from underneath the bedroom door. The soft thumps are getting louder and louder as you neared it. With a twist of the knob and swing of the door, you tilt your head with a smile.

Light flooded from underneath the bedroom door, the soft thumping sound getting louder and louder as you neared it. Opening it wide, you cocked your head with a smile.

There he was.

Sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, Seungcheol was looking gorgeous as ever. He was dressed in just his grey sweatpants, the thick muscles of his shoulders and pecs bared before you. His biceps too were popping on either side thanks to the fact that his hands were tied at the back of the chair. Oh and his mouth was gagged shut, his words turning into muffled whimpers as he looked at you wide eyed, halting the stomping of his feet.

“I know, I know, I'm sorry.” You raised your hands apologetically. “I meant to be back soon but you know how I am, forgetful little me. I'm sorry baby.” You neared him, walking around his chair, bending to whisper in his ear. “But I see you're having your fun.”

Your eyes flickered from the tent in his pants to the laptop you left on for his entertainment, right in the line of his vision. You see yourself on the screen, dressed in the hottest lingerie you owned, looking right in the camera with the vibrator held just where you needed him and only one name spilling from your mouth - Seungcheol.

This wasn't the video you played from him before you left for the grocery store - perhaps they were auto playing, lucky him. You had hours of such footage of yourself - in all kinds of positions, with every possible toy, in role play costumes, in every possible color of lingerie, you had an unmatchable variety. The only thing common among all of them was his name. Choi Seungcheol.

Could you be blamed? The man was unbelievably attractive. It wasn't like you didn't try to avoid him, to repel all that magnetism. You were well aware of your nature - it hadn't been long since you had gotten a chance to start afresh and you didn't want to spiral again. You really really didn't.

But Seungcheol was persistent. He wouldn't stop flirting with you at any given chance, he kept trying to invite himself home, he was consistently intrusive. You kept him at bay for the longest time, at least until the day you had to return the box he had left with you, the one in which he gave you the grilled meat.

You didn't expect him to open the door with his shirt off, slick with sweat, flushed and half panting. When you caught sight of the dumbbells behind him, could tell he was working out but somehow you couldn't help but think this was probably how he looked when he fucked and god did that make your mouth water.

That day he shouldn't have invited you in. Then you wouldn't have found your resolve crumbling so weakly. You wouldn't have found yourself under him being pounded like there was no tomorrow. You wouldn't have crossed the line like this.

What started that day set off a cascade of events. Sleeping with Seungcheol became quite a regular act - there was no part of you that he had left unexplored, untouched. He was in every crevice, every cell, you were entirely consumed by him. When you were at work, all you could think about was how well he fucked you the day before. When you were on the way home, all you could think about was how well he was going fuck you today. Even after you reached, you always made it a point to immediately wash up, wear your nicest underwear and knock on his door. You always did it at his house.

He did try to come to your place a couple of times but you consistently steered the two of you back to his house somehow. It was one thing to let him cum in you but to come into your house? You couldn’t have that happening, he’d ask too many questions - why do you never use the garage Y/n? Why was it always locked Y/n? Why did you have a ridiculous number of gardening tools in your house when you don’t even grow any plants Y/n? You knew the questions wouldn't seize and the answers weren’t good for him. They weren't good for anyone who's heard them all these years.

Another reason you didn't want him home was because you didn't want to ruin the surprise.

Now, Seungcheol was a self-sufficient man. He was happy with himself, his life, his home, his solitude. It was evident all he was looking for in you was a good fuck - afterall, he would never ask you to stay the night or to be his girlfriend even though you'd been seeing each other for months. You were okay with that….. for now. The two of you were still exploring, still understanding each other's bodies and limits. You didn't mind him taking his time, you needed your time as well.

You see, Seungcheol loved his home. He loved every piece of furniture, every bowl, every mat - he was incredibly fond of his space, taking all the time and effort in the world to curate it. You, on the other hand, didn't really care much for your house. As long as it could fulfill basic needs and keep you safe, you were good - it wasn't like you stayed for long in one place anyways. But your heart knew that you wanted to stay with Seungcheol for the rest of your life. There was something dark about him too that told you he belonged with you the way you belonged to him. You wanted him to feel like he belonged to you too, you wanted him to feel at home with you. You wanted to be his home.

That's why you took months together to design and turn your house into an identical replica of Seungcheol’s.

And when you say replica you mean down to the T. Everything was the same. You made sure it was the same. All those times he was away for days together thanks to his job, you found yourself slipping into his house taking detailed notes of every object, every piece. You would only see, not touch or take anything away. Come on, you were no thief, thieves are bad people..

After that you had spent all your time online or going from store to store, finding originals and duplicates of his belongings. Given that he loved to have really exclusive pieces in his house they were not easy to procure but with a little sweet talk, a little threatening and a little unspeakable things, you had somehow managed to bring them all home. To the home you were making for him.

Earlier this week, you had gotten hold of the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle - a childhood photo of Seungcheol's family, framed and hung on the wall. It was the hardest thing to get your hands on. His estranged sister would not leave her house for long enough - it took a major occupational accident at her husband's construction site to finally get her moving.

With everything finally in place today, just as the sun began to set, you went over to Seungcheol's house to bring him over at last, to show him what you had done for him. Seeing how his front door was unlocked you stepped in, curiously looking around for him. But that feeling evaporated the moment you heard that sound - the sound of a woman moaning.

It felt like the ground under your feet had slipped. Perhaps that was why you grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall, to give your shaking hands something to hold on to as you made your way to his bedroom…. He didn't even bother to shut the door.

There he was, sitting on the bed with his laptop open before him, frantically getting himself off to the video of some pizza delivery girl getting her “payment”.

Porn. He was watching porn.

The moment his eyes fell on you by the door, he quickly tucked his length into his sweats and jumped off the bed, looking at you like you were crazy. Oh no Choi Seungcheol. He didn't just do that. He shouldn't have. Maybe then you wouldn't have swung the bat and knocked him out cold. Maybe he wouldn't have found himself in the middle of the room all tied up when he came around.

You just couldn't understand him. What was the need for him to look at other women or even think of one when you were right there? Was he bored of you? Were you not enough? You did everything you could to keep him - every depraved fantasy, every humiliating act, every time he was rough to bruise you for days together, you took it all, you begged for more. Then why was he doing this?

When he finally opened his eyes, he didn't answer your questions, he was simply screaming to set free. Well of course the only thing you could do was to shut his mouth in some way and with him unable to speak, you had to find other ways to get answers. You needed to find out if Seungcheol was just not attracted to you anymore.

That's why you brought out your video collection, little films you had taken of yourself back when you were still pushing him away, all while wondering what it was like to get fucked by him. His mouth may say whatever but anatomy couldn't lie right? There was something else that could stand up and answer you.

You had meant to stay and watch, afterall, you were proud of the quality of your content but the flashes of thunder outside told you that perhaps it was wiser for you to go to the store first. You knew whatever was going to transpire wouldn't be over any time soon, you had to stock up before the storm locked you in. Besides, it was Halloween night, all the cute little kids would be coming around for candy, you didn't want to miss out on that.

You didn't and thanks to them, you didn't succumb to your forgetfulness and miss out on this either.

“There there.” You cooed, removing his gag and he coughed, unable to regain his ability to speak just yet. You waited for him to come around, walking back to sit on the edge of the bed as he looked at you meekly.

“Water.” He whispered, voice just a little horse.

You raised your eyebrow. How did he manage to sound so sexy all the time?

“Thirsty are we?” You smiled. “I thought my gift might have helped.”

“Y/n please.” He groaned. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

Oh. He thinks it's a joke. A little Halloween scare perhaps. A prank gone overboard. Oh he has no idea.

“I think it's me who you take for a joke.” You glanced down at his raging boner. “Or not, considering how excited you are.”

You got up, leaning over him, hand gripping the back of his chair.

“I'll help you.” You licked your lips. “Either I'll untie you, take my little collection and get out of here. Or I'll help with your not so little predicament with any and every hole I have…. Pick your poison.”

Seungcheol looked at you wide eyed. His breath was shaking, lips were quivering and a hundred and one things seemed to be running behind those pretty eyes.

Slowly gulping, his Adams apple moving with a bob, he shut his eyes.

“It's unbearable.” He mumbled. “It's just…. Please help me.”

And you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

Sliding off the bed, you got on your knees, crawling up to him, slotting yourself between his legs. Seungcheol’s eyes flew open when your hands found his thigh, a soft sigh tumbling out of his mouth. He loved to fuck your mouth. He loved how eager to please you always were, always trying to take in more of him, always trying to do better. God he loved it.

He watched as you pulled his sweats down the best you could and wrapped your tiny hand around his dick. He was raging hard, the tip flushed in an angry red, precum smeared all over. You were lucky he was in your control now. If he were allowed to have his way, he might just break you.

Stroking him agonisingly slowly, you inched closer to place a small kiss on his tip, the softest interaction that had ever happened between the two of you. Before Seungcheol could even relish that moment you wrapped your lips around his length and took him all the way in. Fucking hell. Seungcheol thought he was going to pass out with how intensely you were blowing him. He wished you'd untie his hands. He'd go anything to just push your head down his dick and feel himself in your throat. That was a sureshot at making him come, these shallow and fast bobs of your head were only aggravating him.

Maybe that's what you wanted. Because the moment he let out his tell tale groan, letting you know he was close, you pulled away with a pop and wrapped your hand around his cock instead. Before he could complain about losing the warmth of your mouth you began stroking him fast thanks to the wetness of your spit and before you knew it, he felt himself reaching that high, meaningless words leaving his mouth. With a few more jerks, he came all over himself in spurts, ropes of white coating his abdomen.

As he tried to battle his feelings of relief after finding a much needed release, disappointment for not coming in your mouth, and slight fear, not understanding what the hell was going on, you slowly let him go, wiping your hand on his sweats. Looking straight into his eyes, you leaned forward, gathering the cum all over his skin with your tongue and showing it to him before you swallowed it. Fuck, Seungcheol felt the blood rushing down there again. He was far from done tonight.

Getting up you looked at him questioningly though you were well aware of the answer.

“Do you need more?”

Unable to do anything else, he nodded slowly, whispering please.

Smirking, you quickly stripped yourself out of your clothes. You would have made a show out of it, tease him slowly but you were equally desperate to fuck him so you quickly abandoned that idea. Throwing your garments somewhere, you clambered onto his lap, aligning yourself over his dick. You didn't need any prep or lube, you were practically dripping from just blowing him.

Slowly sinking onto his length you threw your head back, finally feeling full. Seungcheol moaned too, burying his face between your boobs as you bottomed out, your grip like a vice. Holding onto his shoulders you began fucking yourself on his length, snapping your hips relentlessly. You could tell the feeling was too much for Seungcheol too as he bit on the soft skin of your breasts. It stung painfully but you let him - you always let him do whatever he wanted to you anyways.

“Tired?” He looked up at you with a triumphant smirk as your pace began to falter thanks to the not so comfortable position of your legs. “Are you finally going to ask me for help?”

You shook your head. You didn't want him to have the upper hand anymore.

“Don't be stubborn, doll. You know it's better when I have my hands on you.” He ran his tongue along your breast, relishing the sweet and salty taste of you. “Untie my hands and we can make this better y/n. I know how much you love my fingers up your ass, and how much you like the grip on my hands all over you and how much you want me . Come on baby, untie me.”

You didn't want to, you really didn't want to but a part of you knew he was right. He could make you feel so good.

Reaching over you pulled on the knot holding his hands together and in a flash his hands gripped the bottom on your thighs and with the sheer strength of his that you loved, he got up, lifting you along with him. Immediately pinning you to the wall, he began thrusting into you, drawing out the most exquisite moans from you as he hit the spot again and again and again. When unable to hold it anymore, you came around him, he tossed you onto the bed, pounding into you mercilessly, making you cum around him one more time before he painted your ass and back with his own release. Even then the night was far from over.

After that he fucked you almost till dawn, pushing you to the limit as he made you cum so many times, you couldn't even keep count anymore. All you knew was that every bit of your body was screaming and creaming in pleasure - it was confirmed, you had to have Seungcheol for life, you had to do whatever it took to keep this insane man forever. You didn't know how but you could think about that later. For now, as day break approached, the two of you passed out in his bed.

Seungcheol looked at you under the afternoon sun streaming into his room. You were fast asleep - he tried waking you up a couple of times but you just would not budge. Finally giving up he resorted to just staring at you.

Last night was…. better than Seungcheol’s wildest dreams. He always knew he was a bit of a freak, but he didn't think he'd find someone to match it in this quiet town he had been reluctant to relocate to. Even when he first met you, he thought you'd be one sweet love making session at most but you took him completely by surprise. You were as wild as he was - you were down for anything he asked, you never said no and most importantly, you enjoyed it all. Seungcheol thought he had hit the jackpot with you.

But yesterday was most definitely not normal. At that time he was thinking with his dick because all the blood in his body was clearly there but as he looked back at what happened, nothing about it was right. You had knocked him out, tied and gagged him up before you left him. You had hours of footage of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of him…

Seungcheol had noticed the dates. It was way before the two of you had begun your little arrangement and he didn't know what to think about that. There were tiny sirens going off in his head telling him to run as fast as he could but Seungcheol couldn't stop staring at you. You were ridiculously beautiful and he just had the best sex of his life last night.

When you whined softly and turned over in your sleep, Seungcheol finally rolled off the bed and dressed himself. Finding your scattered clothes on the floor he gathered them, looking at them with a frown. He couldn't have you wear these again and his clothes were far too big for your tiny frame. Maybe it was time to start making room in his closet for a few of your clothes.

Knowing how tired you must be given last night's events, he silently fished out the keys from the pocket of your pants and decided to bring you a fresh pair from your house.

He shouldn't have gone over. He never should have stepped into your house. Maybe then the tiny sirens in his head wouldn't have become a full blown ringing.

If he had never discovered the truth of your house, if he wasn’t staring at an exact replica of his space, maybe he would've never come to terms that last night was indeed extremely abnormal.

You were not normal.

Something was very very wrong with you, the dozens of medications on the dining table were a testament of that. Seungcheol knew he had to go. He had to leave you and that house and this town. He needed to run away from this madness.

But when he turned to leave, he felt his heart stop just for a second.

There you were, right at the door, dressed in yesterday's clothes, looking at him expressionlessly. Your eyes ran over his face as he felt the hair on his skin stand.

He had to go, he had to get the hell out of here.

“Oh baby.”

You cocked your head at him, leaning against the frame with a small smile.

This was an expression you had never seen on Seungcheol's face before - a mix of shock and fear and repulsion. You could tell he wanted to run. You knew he would end things now, you knew it was over but alas, it was too late to let him go.

You couldn't let him go.

Taking a step ahead, you slowly closed the door behind you, inching closer to him, yesterday’s knife stashed safely in the back pocket of your pants.

“Do you want to see what's in my garage?”

A/n - As usual, comments and reblogs are much appreciated - I'd love to hear your thoughts, it really helps :)

409 notes · View notes