#road to nowhere au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ceilidho · 11 days ago

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BIRD DOG | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

MOODBOARD · AO3

A few times a year, Simon goes home to an empty apartment in a shithole city and counts down the days until he can leave. This time, there's someone waiting for him when he comes home.

Convenient. He was already planning on ordering takeaway.

Or: the live-in masseuse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB reader - Freeform, Masseuse Reader, Forced Cohabitation, Strangers to Roommates to Lovers, Porn with Feelings

The mangled hand of fate lets him go but seldomly.

He does, though, get a few weeks off a year. Bids farewell to his captain (the barest hint of a nod after leaving each other on the runway, chopper blades spinning faster and faster, the other man headed back out, his duties never finished; the world can never let them both rest at the same time) and then he’s gone, bags long packed and truck loaded the night before last. He drives a long, circuitous route after leaving the military base, the mask only shed when the paranoid prickle in his head finally abates.

It never quite goes away though.

And then comes the drive back, the road long and the drudgery endless. One hand on the wheel, the other hanging out of the side of the truck, a cigarette pinched between two knuckles. Occasionally, he takes a drag.

This is the part he always hates. The drive back. Roads winding through quiet towns and over hills, blue disappearing into black, streetlights piercing the darkness and demarcating the beginning and end of civilization. Manchester is a long drive north. He stops once for a piss by the side of the road and then carries on.

It’s a wonder they let him go at all. He is violence forthright; setting him free does no one any good. It’s hardly even a reward for him, more of just a pretense of normalcy. A week to stretch his legs, so to speak. If he were anything other than human, maybe they’d force him to stay on base indefinitely, secured and contained behind barbed wire fences and reinforced concrete walls.

But a few times a year, they play this game and send him off into the world.

There’s an apartment in Manchester that he’s rented for as long as he can remember. A shithole flat in a shithole borough, and though Simon’s squirreled away enough money to buy a place of his own, the thought of owning anything makes his skin crawl. It’s not in his blood, he thinks. He’d sooner live in a shack in the woods, no fixed address or way to find him. Even his flat in Manchester is rented under a different name, and he pays his landlord in cash for the year.

It’s dark when he reaches the city, the sky soot black and patchy with clouds. Moon nowhere in sight. Nothing beautiful ever visits Manchester.

But there’s a light on in the window when he pulls up in front of his place.

Odd.

Would’ve remembered if he left the light on the last time he was in town months ago; filament would’ve blown out in at least that time as well. Still, there’s a light on in the living room window and a new curtain pulled across to keep anyone from looking in.

Simon stares at the light while he leans outside against the truck and finishes his cigarette. Stubs it out under his boot when it’s down to the filter and locks the car door behind him. Violence already itches under his skin, knuckles tingling like they know what’s coming if he opens that door and finds some junkie living in his flat. It’ll be worse if he finds out that his scumbag landlord moved someone else in after picking up on him being gone nearly half the year.

His key still works though. Fancy that.

He finds you like that, sitting up from a nap on his couch, sweater slouched down a shoulder and groggily blinking open big doe eyes that widen when you notice him in the doorway, fear making you freeze up.

You’re a pretty little thing; a pleasant surprise to find something like you sitting on his couch. It quells the violence simmering in his belly because it awakens another appetite instead. Like a meal delivered right to his door. He was already planning on ordering takeaway.

He drops the duffel bag by his feet, propping the door open with it. “You lost, bird?”

Terror leaves you mute. He can only imagine; he must seem like something straight from a horror movie—defenceless girl waking up to the dead-eyed stare of a giant dressed in all black watching her sleep and blocking her only way out. That’s not completely true; there’s a backdoor through the kitchen that leads into a laneway behind the house, but the door sticks in the winter, not easy to open in a hurry.

He has as much right to ask as you do to run at the sight of him though, considering it is his fuckin’ flat.

You can’t seem to choke out a single word. Scared stiff, likely, heart slamming against your chest while the worst scenarios possible play out in your mind. Simon nearly rolls his eyes.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he grumbles, finally kicking his bag out of the way so the door can shut behind him. “Cat got your tongue or somethin’?”

The sound of the door slamming shut must finally snap you out of it because you scramble off the couch, nearly tripping over the arm when you run for the back. Screaming too, just to piss him off extra. His back already aches something fierce from the long drive—he wasn’t expecting a headache on top of everything else.

“Heeeeeeeeelp! Heeeeelp!”

Your screams are borderline deafening, almost more aggravating than finding someone living in his flat in the first place.

You scramble down the hall, so terrified that you go for the first open door, slamming it shut behind you. His eyes follow the shape of your bare legs and the way the muscles in your ass move as you run.

“I’m c-calling the police!” you yell from behind the bathroom door.

When Simon looks back down the hall, he notices your phone on the floor, bright side up. Must have dropped out of your pocket when you bolted like a scared cat.

“No, you’re not,” he says blandly, staring at the door. There’s a pause on the other side like you just noticed your missing phone, then a bleat of panic. “Don’t try going out the window either—thing’s been sealed shut since the nineties.”

On the other side of the door, the window rattles in its frame for a good few seconds before you give up on trying to escape that way. There’s a pause while you consider your options. Simon waits patiently on the other side of the door, his temper slowly but surely getting the better of him the longer he goes without a shower and a beer, locked out of his own bathroom.

What a bloody headache.

He pounds a fist against the door, bracing his feet in case you try to open it and scurry out around him before he’s had a chance to have a chat. “Gonna come out now?”

“Get out of my house!” you shriek instead of being polite.

Figures. He should’ve known his landlord would pull some shit like this. “How long’ve you been living here, bird?”

“I have a knife!”

Pretty thing that likes to lie. There’s not a shot you have anything better than a hair dryer or nail clippers in there.

“Better get away from the door ‘cause I’m kickin’ it in,” he announces, taking a step back to give himself some distance and waiting a few seconds for you to realize that he’s dead serious before you start screaming at the top of your lungs again.

Got quite a set on you. That doesn’t matter much to him though. The door caves in after only a few good kicks, the frame splitting right up through the lock when it finally gives, and the two halves—the door itself nearly snapped in half—banging against the wall when it ricochets open.

You’re trembling between the toilet and the wall when Simon walks in, knees practically knocking together. The crotch of your shorts are wet and there’s a small puddle under you; must’ve pissed yourself in fear, and he’d almost pity you if you weren’t squatting in his flat.

The closer he gets to you, the harder you wail. Full on bawling now, snot and drool dribbling down your face, and Christ, he sure picked a bad time to grow a heart. He’s not immune to a pretty girl in distress, much as he wishes he could be.

He kneels in front of you, purposefully blocking your only way out, before knocking his knuckles under your chin, huffing out a breath when you flinch. “Ain’t gonna hurt you, bird. You’re just in my flat, is all.”

“Your flat?” you repeat in disbelief. “This is my flat. I pay rent!”

“Got a lease then?” he asks, and though your eyes are still bloodshot and your nose is still leaking, you nod.

“Yes.”

“Show me then,” he orders.

And you do when he steps back to give you some space, scampering shamefully to your—his—bedroom to rifle through the dresser until you pull out a handful of papers that look suspiciously like a lease. He skims it with a growing tick in his eye. It looks like one because it is one.

“See?” you mumble. He ignores the attitude in favour of reading until the end, where he finds his landlord’s name, the blotchy signature underneath it unmistakable.

“Bullshit,” he grunts through his teeth.

“It’s not. You can call him and ask! Where’s yours?”

His copy of the lease is tucked away in a drawer in the kitchen, buried under loose rubber bands, old batteries, and takeout menus from restaurants that went under years ago. When he returns with it and holds it up to your nose, you frown.

“Oh. I guess that explains some things.”

“Explains some things, huh? The clothes didn’t tip you off?” Simon asks, referring to the sweatpants and shirts still lining the dresser shelves. Your lips tighten.

“I thought the previous tenant skipped town and left his clothes. I was gonna throw them out eventually.”

“Good thing you didn’t.” His voice is thick with sardonicism.

It’s an interesting standoff to say the least. You, standing there in your soiled sleep shorts with tear-streaked cheeks, and him still decked out in his military gear and boots tracking dirt across the flat. You sway on your feet, the adrenaline crash likely intense. He catches you when you sway too close to him and you flinch when his hand clamps down over your shoulder, a new wave of adrenaline coursing through you.

“I’m fine,” you snap, taking a step away.

For fuck’s sake. His mood darkens at the continued hostility. It’s not like you’re the one who came home to a strange man squatting in your flat—if anyone has a right to be hostile, it’s him.

Skittering back into the bedroom, you shut the door behind you, likely to change into another pair of shorts. Simon’s mood festers the longer he waits for you to come out. The last string of his patience nearly snaps when you finally creep back out into the living room, the sour expression on your face pissing him off even more.

“I’m gonna call Tom,” you mutter, picking your phone off the coffee table.

“Go ahead.” He doesn’t bring up that it won’t change a thing. Not his problem if you’re so green behind the ears that you think your landlord will drop everything to answer a call, especially after dinner.

No one answers when you ring, just as he thought. He plops down on the couch and rests a foot on the coffee table, ignoring the way you pace back and forth waiting for your landlord to pick up.

“No answer?” Simon asks rhetorically.

“Aren’t you gonna try?” you ask.

“Yeah. Tomorrow. When ‘e’ll actually pick up.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do then? I’m not getting a hotel room for the night.”

“Me neither, birdie.”

He meets your stare with one of his own. It doesn’t take long for you to give in.

There’s a pullout bed in the couch that you offer to take and he lets you because he is, at the end of the day, a selfish prick who won’t give up a week of decent sleep for anybody. Not when his back and neck have been acting up for the past month and keeping him from getting more than three hours at a time.

The ache behind his eyebrow throbs as Simon sits on the edge of the bed. A slow exhale.

Tomorrow can’t come quick enough.

In the morning, Simon rings his landlord and listens silently as the fuckhead blubbers on the other end of the phone about late payments and eviction notices.

“This ain’t a charity, y’know,” the other man sniffs. “I gotta pay my bills too.”

He lets the man make excuse after excuse and accuse him of this and that until he finally goes silent when he notices Simon hasn’t said a word in minutes. At which point, Simon icily reminds him of what he does for a living and the fact that he paid him for the year in full just a few months back.

Not much to be done after that. There’s silence on the other end before his landlord tries to hem and haw his way out of it. He offers Simon one of his other properties currently sitting vacant on the other side of town, but that’s not the answer that Simon is looking for.

“If anyone’s moving out, it ain’t me,” Simon growls into the phone.

The wounded look that you shoot at him rubs him the wrong way.

His landlord’s still rambling on about moving costs and lawyer fees when Simon hangs up, no longer in the mood to try and talk things out.

He doesn’t really understand the legalities here, but he knows he can’t just toss you out on your ass when you’ve also got a lease, same as him.

“I have every right to be here,” you start up the second he hangs up the phone, not letting him get a word in edgewise, shoulders rolled back like you’re trying to be assertive. “I’ll take it to court if I have to.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Simon scrubs a hand down his face.

“I’m serious. Rent is expensive and this is the only place close enough to where I work that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg—and I don’t have the money to hire a lawyer to get my money back—”

“I’m not gonna kick you out,” he finally snaps, fed up with your caterwauling.

You pause, hope warring with disbelief. “You’re not?”

He gives a curt shake of his head. “Too much of a headache. I’m only…in town for a week anyway.”

“Oh. ‘Til when?”

“‘Til whenever I’m back.” Purposefully cryptic. He gives you a flat look when you open your mouth to pry some more.

You reconsider, chewing your bottom lip until a better question occurs to you. “Are you in town a lot? Because I’m not sure how else we could make this work. I could sleep at my cousin’s until you leave?”

“Your cousin live around here?”

You hesitate. “No.”

“Then that ain’t gonna work, is it?”

“At least I’m trying,” you hiss, and Simon has to tamp down the amusement that swirls in his chest at the sight of your shoulders puffing up. “I’m not ripping up my lease and if you’re not either, then we have to figure out something unless you feel like taking this to court.”

While Simon wouldn’t usually take kindly to being threatened, his annoyance never quite develops into anything more substantial.

“Just keep outta my way and I’ll keep outta yours,” he says.

“Fine.”

The agreement you come to is that when he’s in town—seldom and erratic—he’ll take the bedroom and you’ll sleep on the couch, a fair compromise since you have the flat to yourself the rest of the year.

He doesn’t explain himself, of course. Doesn’t explain why he’s allowing this instead of dragging you to court kicking and screaming. It’s no one’s business but his why he chooses not to go down that road.

He tells himself that it’s easier this way; that it’s easier just to run your lease out and spare himself the legal mess. It’s not like he’ll even be around most of the time anyway.

What he carefully side steps, even in his own mind, is the sharp displeasure that accompanies the thought of forcing you out of his flat and onto the streets.

Cohabitation is—

Easy wouldn’t be the right word. He certainly doesn’t make it easy on you, leaving his dirty dishes in the sink and his half-empty beer cans in the shower caddy, his cum drying on the wall over the tub spout. You try to do the same by leaving your dirty laundry on the communal furniture, but it doesn’t have the same effect.

It’s interesting, at least. It’s not as though he’s never lived with anyone before—his memories of his early years in the service are littered with bunkmates packed into every corner of the room, and learning to sleep everywhere from moving caravans to while standing in formation, always surrounded by other people—but he’s paid his dues. Barring deployment, he thought he’d earned the luxury of his privacy.

But it’s not all bad; it’s been years since he had fun like this.

You try your best to annoy him in return, but you don’t realize that you’re playing chicken with a man who’s been buried alive. There isn’t much someone like you could do to break him.

Living with another person doesn’t soften him up one bit. There’s a time for change and it’s not off the back of a four-month covert operation, his nerves still razor sharp and ability to sleep practically nonexistent. He gets precious few weeks to himself and he isn’t going to waste them trying to get in the habit of smoking on the porch instead of in his own living room.

“I’m a masseuse.”

“Oh yeah?” Simon grunts, barely listening. There’s a match on the telly and a beer in his other hand—a perfect afternoon, if only you’d just stop yapping in his ear for five fuckin’ minutes.

“Yes, and I can’t show up to work reeking like a chimney,” you explain, scooching closer to him on the couch while being careful to leave some distance between the two of you. For all your posturing, you’re still timid around him, like a kitten hissing and spitting around a much bigger cat.

“What’s that got to do with me?” he asks rhetorically, not in the slightest interested in how it pertains to him. He takes another drag from the cigarette dangling between his index and middle finger, ashing it over the side of the couch.

“It means I’d prefer if you didn’t smoke in the flat,” you say, hissing the last few words.

He takes another drag, turning to look at you before exhaling right in your face. “That’s a shame.”

You cough and squawk, and he fights down a grin.

For the most part, he leaves you to your own devices, intent only on enjoying his time off. He fixes the bathroom door at least, which you begrudgingly thank him for.

A week and a bit, Simon reminds himself when you come in through the front door chirping into your phone, your voice effectively drowning out the TV on in the background. When you spot him staring at you from the couch, you go quiet as a mouse and slink off to the bathroom, locking the (newly installed) door behind you. He supposes it’s the only place where you feel any semblance of privacy since his bedroom is off limits until he leaves. It does leave him without a bathroom though.

Pissing in the alleyway behind the flat half an hour later, he scowls into the darkness and reminds himself that he has no one to blame but himself for this mess.

When his leave comes to an end, Simon doesn’t bother to give you a heads up. You’ll realize it in a couple of days when you notice his absence around the flat, the siege finally lifted. He supposes you’ll be grateful for his departure and grateful not to make you feign politeness.

Duffel bag packed away in the car, he leaves with the bed still unmade. Knows that’ll ruffle your feathers later on when you come home, but it’s his parting gift. His reminder to you to enjoy the couple months reprieve his job allows you.

And then the road slips away under him and he’s gone.

The months away are just complex rearrangements of the same thing. Each time it drives his soul deeper into the gully, buffeted by katabatic winds.

His daily life on base is split into brackets of time. Wake up, go to the gym, work, clock out, see the captain for a drink. Wash, rinse, repeat. Each day blending into the next. Back where he belongs, under the thumb of a system that he’s long sold his body and freedom to, and sent out God knows where to do God knows what.

Then, again the rooster crows at first light and he lifts himself out of bed.

When he’s deployed, everything changes while everything stays the same. He doesn’t have the same freedom of movement as he does on base, but in truth very little changes from one deployment to the next if you zoom out enough. Limited time to sleep on the chopper before it touches down, body tensed for what’s to come, and then he’s off, his objectives clear.

Driving a knife into a neck to the hilt and pulling it out one inch at a time. It’s the one he knows how to do, and he does it well. He doesn’t have to like what he does; he doesn’t even have to think about it so long as it gets done.

Ghost exhales and slips the mask back on.

In [redacted city] in [redacted country], he sets his scope up in the window of a building across from one where his target is slated to be in twelve hours and then he waits. Flexes his fingers when they go numb and ignores the thirst clawing up his throat. Four hours later, his elbows ache something fierce from digging into the ground for hours on end, a sharp pain shooting up his arms, but Ghost pays it no mind. Mind over matter.

Amidst the hours of laying there and waiting for his target to come into frame, his mind doesn’t wander. That’s a luxury for a different time—when the job is done and his target is executed.

At the very edges of his consciousness though, something flickers. The skin around his eyes pinches as he pushes the half-formed thought away.

Then his target walks into the room and everything else disappears.

You’re still there when he returns months later on another government ordered leave. Same petulant frown and wobbly lower lip when he walks in through the front door, dripping wet from the rain outside. When he tosses his duffel bag onto the couch, you scowl, nudging the bag onto the floor with your foot.

“You could’ve rang,” you mumble, pulling the throw from the back of the couch over your lap to hide your bare legs. Pity to be deprived of a nice view, but Simon doesn’t take it to heart.

“Didn’t think you’d still be ‘ere,” he grunts instead, shrugging out of his jacket and shaking it dry, suppressing a smirk when you start squawking about getting water all over the floor.

That’s partly a lie, though not one he’ll ever admit to. Simon figured there might be a chance you’d be gone, but in the time since he last saw you, he’s done enough digging around online to know that you weren’t kidding about the lack of affordable flats in the area. There’s hardly a unit nearby that isn’t going for double what he pays, some even more.

“Well, guess I’m sleeping out here tonight,” you grumble. You’re on your tiptoes in the doorway to the living room now, the throw wrapped around you like a security blanket.

He doesn’t answer that. No point getting your hopes up when he has no intention of giving up the bed.

In another life, he might be enough of a gentleman to let you sleep in the bedroom while he takes the couch, but in this one, his back is ravaged by sciatica and his dominant hand and wrist twinge with the beginning of carpal tunnel syndrome. Most nights, it’s a miracle if he can get five uninterrupted hours.

So no, he won’t be giving up the bed.

But Simon toys with the thought of dragging you in with him. It’s been awhile since he had a woman, so long that the memory is fuzzy when he dredges it up, and though his hand does the job when the itch grows severe, he’s no monk. He could pull you in with little effort, sweet talk you until your knickers are around your ankles and your legs are in the air, hot cunt steaming when your legs part and he sinks his cock in deep. Wouldn’t take more than a half dozen thrusts before he busted, pretty pussy painted with his cum.

In the doorway, you eye him dubiously, scrunched nose expressing your discontent.

It’s an idea, at least.

He still leaves his dishes in the sink and wakes to you pounding on the bedroom door, whining about having to scrub his plates with a pot scraper, but time and distance have mellowed any hostility in you. You treat him less like a stranger intruding on your space and more like a roommate you’ve grown to tolerate despite his many faults.

The oddest thing is opening the fridge up to more than just a six-pack, a stick of butter, and three half-empty bottles of mustard. Fresh produce and meat spill from the shelves now, leftovers packed in tupperware and neatly labelled. He eats like a king now, takeout relegated to the days when you don’t feel like cooking. On those days, Simon heads down to the chippie a few streets away and gets enough for the both of you before heading back to eat on the couch with you.

He still gets a kick out of leaving his cigarette butts in cups strewn around the flat for you to find.

“So what do you do anyway?” you ask out of the blue.

“What’s it matter?” Simon grunts from beside you. He has to slow his usual gait to keep pace with you—which is irritating as all fuck—but you didn’t leave him much choice when you insisted on going to the store well after dark.

“I’m just making conversation. You always get so squirrely when I ask—what are you, some kind of secret agent?”

He’d roll his eyes if he had any less self-control.

“No way. No way. You are?” you gasp, suddenly glued to his side, hands scrambling for purchase on his bicep and shoulder.

Simon stares down at your hands clutching his arm, unconsciously tucking his bicep between your tits. “Best to not ask questions, bird.”

You pout. He ignores the impulse to lean down and sink his canines into that plump bottom lip.

His nose itches because the world is changing.

He used to catalogue his time off base in much the same way. Wake up, workout, tinker with the junk pilfered from estate sales and scrap yards he’s frequented over the years, then head to the pub for a drink. Wash, rinse, repeat.

That’s changed since you came into his life. Aside from when you’re out working, you unbalance his schedule. Upset his routines. The structure propping up his entire existence gets taken down in an instant when you open your mouth and ask him to the market with you, giving him no choice but to slam the door shut behind him and drive you there.

Each day comes with its new flavour, a new bite to it.

“You’re not eating takeout again?” you ask him, aghast when you come home from work to find takeout containers all over the coffee table

“Always a fuckin’ lecture with you, huh?” Simon grumbles into his curry. Shovels another forkful into his mouth.

Just as he expected though, you don’t let it go. He was a fool to think you would. It’s not so bad at first when all you do is cook for him—with the life he’s lived, he’s never been one to turn down a home cooked meal, so he accepts the proffered food happily—but it’s another thing entirely when you rope him into it.

He’s already pissed off when you wrangle him into the kitchen under the guise of needing his help—absurd after your subterfuge from the day before, his expectation being that you were happy to do all the cooking yourself, not force him to debase himself by chopping up all the vegetables and meat while being ordered around like a line cook.

What really ticks him off though is that—

he grumbles to himself as he chops the mushrooms into thin slices

—you keep getting away with it.

The worst is when you catch the tremor in his hand at the breakfast table, quick eyes picking up on the subtle quiver instantly.

“Something wrong with your wrist?” you ask. Always prying into his business.

Simon closes his hand into a fist. “It’s nothing.”

You frown. “Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.”

“Well, it is.”

“Can you relax your grip? I just want to see that again.”

How he lets you talk him into massaging his wrist is beyond him. Then you press your thumbs into the meat of his palm and rub in smooth, circular motions, and his brain goes offline for half a second. The relief hits him like a cudgel to the head; knocks him upside.

“Jesus fuck, bird,” Simon groans. His knee bangs against the leg of the table.

“Feels a bit better, huh?” you ask, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a crooked, teasing smile.

And fuck if it doesn’t feel a thousand times better by the time you’re done. He snaps when your thumbs dig in too deep at his wrist and pain radiates up his arm, but all you do is laugh it off, smiling to yourself when you press down on a tender point on his wrist and his jaw goes slack.

Sometimes, he wishes he could study you like a bug. Pin your arms and legs down to get a closer look. Kneel over you and pin your shins down with his to keep you from squirming away, then tuck his fingers into the inside of your cheeks to pull them open.

But he keeps his hands to himself. Just barely.

He doesn’t stay long this time, called back from his katabasis before the week’s even up, Price’s voice urgent over the phone. His duffel bag is packed before the call is even over, boots laced up and mask folded neatly in his pocket for when he leaves the city limits.

“You’re leaving?” you ask when you notice, and if Simon were less of a realist, he might think you sounded upset.

“Need me to take out the trash?” he asks, his answer implicit. Yes, he’s leaving. Even if it weren’t for his job, he’s not the staying type; those kinds of decisions are out of his hands anyway, and even if it were up to him, he’d be long gone by now. Adrift; across the pond or somewhere down in the Balkans, far enough away that you couldn’t find him even if you wanted to.

That’s what he tells himself. Whether he believes it anymore is another question.

You’re quiet for a second. “Sure. Thank you.”

Simon nods. Nothing more to say. The ache in his gut could be anything else.

He lifts a hand on his way out, ruffles your hair once before he’s gone.

Rain soaks him down to his britches but still he stands in it without complaint, watching some of the privates unload a delivery truck parked outside of the commissary. Even the mundane parts of his job are his to attend to and he does so with little complaint.

When they finish around eighteen-hundred hours, he signs out for the day and heads to Price’s office for a drink. It’s so routine it’s practically part of his DNA.

Price already has both glasses poured when Ghost arrives, two fingers each, and it goes down smooth when he rolls the mask up over his nose to take a sip.

“Got out the pricey stuff just for me?” Ghost asks. He can tell by the taste and from the bottle sitting on the shelf behind Price, label facing outward.

“What else am I saving it for?” Price asks rhetorically. “I’m not letting the good stuff go to waste.”

Ghost hums. It’s still raining buckets outside. He watches as it hits the windowpane behind Price’s desk, almost transfixed.

“Got time for a drink before you’re out on Friday?”

He shakes his head. “No time. Gotta be out by six.”

“Six?” Price repeats, a mite surprised. “Why? Something waiting for you back home?”

Ghost doesn’t answer.

Price lifts an eyebrow. “Well, spit it out.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to tell.”

“So there’s no one back in Manchester?”

“Didn’t say that.”

Price’s lips twitch into a grin under his mustache, eyes faintly amused. “Heard.”

Truth be told, he has started to think of you as someone waiting back home. Maybe not for him, but waiting all the same. Why else would you be back in his flat in Manchester in his bed if not to wait for him to come back?

It almost makes him itchy to leave. He can tamp down the urge when the situation calls for it, but it sits right under his skin most days. If he thinks about it for too long, his focus goes razor sharp and the edges of his vision go blurry.

In the present moment, he brings the glass to his lips and tips his head back, letting it pour down his throat.

He has some nascent idea of where this is going.

As always, you’re curled up on the couch watching TV when he walks through the front door, on the verge of sleep. When your eyes land on him, you blink away the sleep and smile so brightly that his chest aches. “Simon!”

In nearly forty years, no one has ever said his name like that. Brimming with brightness and warmth. Like for once someone has longed for him in his absence.

All he can do is stare at you for a time. It should make his skin crawl, and it does, to an extent. He should be out the door already—lease broken, all his shit in the back of his truck, ties cut, and so many kilometers between you and him that he has no choice but to forget your face.

Instead, he kicks the door shut behind him and ruffles your hair when he passes on his way to the bathroom to piss and scrub a towel over his face.

It must be a form of self-punishment. That’s the only explanation for why he comes back every single time when he has more than enough money to fuck off down south for a week instead—he could be spending his leave in Costa Brava or sipping rakija in Kotor, but he chooses to come back to this hovel with its bleak weather and seedy underbelly every single time. What other urge would drive him to abuse himself like this other than masochism?

Any attempt to answer that is swiftly dismissed.

One day. One day is all he manages after promising to keep himself in check this time around. He manages to get through that first day largely because of the physical distance he puts between the two of you, playing chess with a couple old men in the park, rock doves pecking at the birdseed scattered under the wrought iron tables and benches.

His restraint breaks when he catches you dozing off in front of the television, socked feet tucked under your thighs and head balanced precariously on your fist, elbow resting on the arm of the couch.

He sits down beside you and his lip twitches when your head bobs, slumber briefly breached when the cushion under you dips with his weight.

“C’mere, girl,” Simon grunts, pulling you onto his lap.

You go somewhat willingly, only putting up a little bit of a fuss. Grumbling to keep up appearances. But that melts away the second he tucks your head into the crook of his neck, body going lax and fingers burrowing into the fabric of his shirt at his belly, gathering it together in your fist.

Christ, Simon thinks, dropping his head back on the couch. What am I doing?

Even he doesn’t know these days, but his chest aches in a way it never has before. He makes a mental note to see a doctor when he’s back on base.

His back aches too, but you pick up on that rather quickly, hounding him when you recognize the stiffness in his back for what it is. It takes you days to wear him down enough to agree to a massage, but eventually you do. He regrets it the second the words leave his mouth, leery at the thought of putting himself in such a vulnerable position.

You lock him out of the bedroom while you set up your table and do all the little things that you need to do in order to set the mood. His nose wrinkles when the smell of incense hits him.

“You can strip down to your comfort level,” you explain after letting him back into the room, patting the bed as if he doesn’t know where to lie down. “Then get under the blanket and let me know when you’re ready.”

He cocks a brow. “You trying to get me naked, bird?”

“Simon,” you sigh, a touch exasperated, hands on your hips to emphasize your weariness.

His belt clinks as he unlatches it. “Don’t worry, birdie, just gimme a second to get these off.”

A frustrated growl and then the door slams shut behind you when you bolt out of the room.

He spares you the indignity of having to repeat yourself, sliding under the towel and barking at you to come back in when he’s stripped bare and covered. You slip back in quietly and flit over to the dresser to press play on your music.

The first touch of your hands against his bare back almost makes him flinch. All his regret comes rushing back and he very nearly calls it off, and then you press the heels of your palms into the meat of his shoulders and the bottom falls out from under him. Then you drag them down the length of his back and he very nearly bites his tongue clean off.

Simon doesn’t bother muffling his noises when you dig your hands into his back to work out the plethora of knots, huffing and groaning like he’s balls deep. When you get to his shoulders though, he has to fight to stay put,

“Oh, your back is really messed up,” you note, a bit breathlessly.

He doesn’t acknowledge your words, too intent on not vocalizing his pain. Not even a grunt passes his lips.

You work years of hard labour and soreness out of his muscles, leaving behind a new man. The oil coating your palms makes your hands glide across his back.

He must fall asleep at some point because he wakes to the sound of television in the other room. Groggy at first, cotton mouthed and sleep drunk, and when Simon stumbles into the living room, you’re sitting on the couch with your knees drawn into your chest.

“Oh hi,” you say when you notice him standing there. “Sleep well?”

Speech still beyond him, all he can do is nod and plant himself on the couch beside you. Shirtless still. Simon only notices it himself when he tips his head to look over at you and finds that you won’t meet his eyes, gaze steadfast on the TV.

“Shoulda ‘ad you do that when you moved in,” he says.

“I could give you another one before you leave,” you reply, still not looking over at him. He bets that if he brushed his knuckles over your cheeks, they’d be hot to the touch. “Just tell me when.”

Maybe he will. What use is there in depriving himself of life’s little pleasures when his soul bears all of life’s bruises?

He reaches over to pinch your cheek, grinning when you yowl. Just as warm as he thought.

One thing Simon doesn’t take for granted anymore are his scarce moments of privacy. No stranger to a little exhibitionism (barracks walls and tent flaps hardly muffle sound, and he’s learned over the years that men will tolerate anything if it means they can rub one out in peace), he still appreciates the time he gets to himself to take care of things.

He’s only just finished tugging one out, his jeans buttoned back up and his hand still wet with his spend, when you walk in the front door.

You start up the second the door slams shut behind you, steam practically billowing out of your ears. “Well, thanks a lot—one of my regulars just gave me shit because she said I smelt like an ashtray and she couldn’t ‘properly relax’ for the whole hour—”

Afterglow proper scotched, Simon sits there and lets you cuss him out until the pounding behind his eyebrow becomes unbearable.

You go quiet when he rises to his feet, unused to him actually reacting to your whinging. Sometimes you don’t realize how accustomed to him you’ve become—how ingrained he’s become in your everyday life. What continues to elude you for no good reason is that you live with a stranger, and a strange man at that. It would piss him off if it were anyone other than him.

Practically chest to chest now, you nearly go cross eyed staring up at him. Jaw unhinged and mouth dangling loose, just the slightest gap between your lips like you forgot to close them. He lets you size him up for a second before lifting his hand to your mouth and slowly but firmly shoving his cum-covered fingers into your mouth.

Dumbstruck, all you can do is stare up at him with his cum-slicked fingers in your mouth, holding them there for a few more seconds and whimpering when he drags them out and then feeds them slowly back in. You even go a little glassy-eyed.

When he finally pulls his fingers out and lets his arm drop to his side, you sway on your feet a little, at a loss for words. There’s a creamy sheen on your bottom lip that disappears when you suck it into your mouth on instinct, eyes going wide when you recognize the taste on your tongue.

“Thanks for cleaning that up, birdie.” And then he reaches down to zip his fly up, smug when your eyes flit down to his crotch.

The stakes are different now than what they were all those months ago. It can’t be a carefree cohabitation when he’s playing for keeps. Whatever that means.

But his time is cut short again, the world catching up to him and yanking him back. And when Simon goes this time, he can’t help but drag his feet on his way out.

You’re looking good. A comment made in passing, Price’s face barely twitching through it, but Ghost catches it and he lets it sit for a moment before responding.

“Yeah?” he grunts, looking away. The recruits round the part of the track closest to where they stand, panting through their seventh lap.

“Put on a bit of weight since you left,” Price notes.

“Calling me fat, sir?”

He rolls his eyes, huffing out an exasperated breath. “Give it a rest, you fuckin’ muppet. I said you look good.”

Price isn’t wrong though. He both looks and feels different. With increasing regularity, he watches the clock and counts the days down until he’s released from his duties again. His want has him circling like a bird of prey.

All his life, he’s had to live in the moment, concerned only with the immediate, tangible present because that’s all that life let him have. And though it’s been decades since he’s needed to be in survival mode, those instincts have never quite left him.

The shock to his system has left him forward-thinking for once. A girl in his house and food in his fridge; his body feeling better than it has in years—he’s still lucky if he gets more than five uninterrupted hours of sleep, but his expectations are different when he’s not at home. Even the concept of home is foreign, like a language he’s just starting to learn.

The future isn’t some nebulous concept out of his reach but a real place that he gets to walk into.

Desire tips him like a scale. There may not be any coming back from this.

Love shows him no mercy, so he doesn’t show you any either.

Months pass before Simon’s leave comes around again, and when it finally does, he’s already packed and signed out before his last day on base is even up. He says his goodbyes to Price on his way out and the other man visibly suppresses a smile, eyeing the bag clutched tight in his hand.

“Give her my best,” is all he says before getting back to the paperwork in front of him. Simon leaves without another word.

Then the long drive back. A skein of birds in flight follow him for part of the journey. A train running parallel to the throughway follows him for the rest. Tree boughs bend under the weight of the last snowfall.

Then he blinks and when his eyes open, he’s home.

You’re still sitting on that blasted couch when Simon opens the front door, pretty as a peach in August, and his name rings like a bell off your tongue when you say it, summoning him to you. It’s not his fault that his urges prevail, that he has no choice but to throw his bag down onto the carpeted floor and stomp over to you, lifting you up by the collar of your housecoat and dragging you into a scorching hot kiss.

“Mmf,” you squeak against his lips, eyes flying open.

It’s messy and frenzied, spit dripping down your chin and his tongue halfway down your throat. No finesse or skill to speak of, only an incessant buzzing at the back of his head that only quiets when you give a helpless little moan, an instant balm to his suffering.

Simon pulls back for a moment to let you breathe. “That’s my welcome ‘ome?” he murmurs. His lips brush against yours when he speaks.

“W-welcome home?” you repeat, flustered, your lip catching against his. He sucks it between his when it does, cock throbbing in his pants when you gasp, hot breath billowing into his mouth and making his head spin.

This is nothing like being high on pain meds or three sheets to the win. It pulses through him and makes his cock chub up, forcing him to shove a hand down between his legs to readjust himself. That gets you good when you notice.

He kisses hungry and mean, ever greedy for your mouth, fitting his hand over the back of your head and angling you how he likes. Holding the delicate cradle of your skull in his palm and knowing that he could crack it if he squeezed his fingers hard enough. The thought sends a rush right through him, his violent underbelly scratched in just the right way.

“W-where’s this coming from?” you gasp when Simon pulls back. You look thoroughly flustered, but he ignores you to hook a finger in your mouth and wrench it open.

“Open,” he grunts, giving your inner cheek a sharp tug.

You go cross-eyed when he spits in your mouth, the glob of spit landing right on your tongue, and your affronted little gasp hits him like an arrow shot straight through his heart. He’s considerate enough to seal it in with a kiss, making sure not to let you waste a drop. Tongue pushing in right after to lick it up, growling at you to suck it when you only nervously kiss back.

His patience isn’t infinite though and kissing barely wets his appetite. It’s not enough to plumb the depths of his hunger when there’s something uglier down there waiting with its jaws wide open.

He twists you around and bends you over the back of the couch, rucking your housecoat up to your waist. Your knickers get ripped clean off, tearing at the seams, and your ensuing shriek nourishes the hunger simmering low in his belly. Appetite never satiated, belly never full.

He likes that you didn’t expect him back so soon. Fuzzy, unshaved legs and holey socks; pimple patches on your face and nothing under your robe. The lazy domesticity appeals to him in a way he never would’ve expected.

Then his fingers split the seam of your pussy and the runoff of his appreciation cascades down the slopes of his shoulders and his back. Slick drips from your winking hole, gathering together into a tight bulb before a single drop drips onto the couch beneath you.

“Fuck—now there’s somethin’ to come ‘ome to,” Simon grunts, and then drags his tongue between your dew-slicked lips.

His enjoyment was a foregone conclusion when he imagined this back in his quarters in the barracks, cock in hand, but the reality of having his mouth on your pussy exceeds his expectations a thousandfold. It’s all soft, pillowy skin and sweet nectar. He gorges himself on it, an almost pathological need to be tongue-deep in your cunt.

“Wet little gash just sucks ‘em right in…” he murmurs, plunging two fingers into your hole slowly. The soft flesh of your hole bulges around his fingers when they sink in all the way to the knuckle.

“Fuck—don’t call it that,” you bleat, so pathetic that he’s smitten.

“Shouldn’ta wagged it at me if ya didn’t want me to touch it,” Simon teases, then crooks his fingers just so and your leg spasms.

He keeps you stuffed full until your legs shake, on the verge of coming, and then he rips them out.

You practically scream in frustration, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Somethin’ wrong, birdie?” He smirks when you arch your back, pushing your ass back in his face.

“I want to come, Simon,” you whine, wagging your ass in his face again. Just his luck that a little slut like you dropped into his life.

“Alright,” he sighs, mock aggrieved. “Lemme see if I can ‘elp with that.”

Ungrateful little thing, he thinks when he turns you over onto your back and heaves you up into the air.

“Simon—” you keen his name when he has you pinned up against the wall, his arms scooped under your thighs to hold you in place.

He plunges into that warm little honeypot between your legs in slow, measured strokes at first, savouring each punctured whimper and hiccup that drops from your lips. Each flex of his hips brings him that much closer to heaven and that much closer to hell.

“Didn’t think you could just barge in without consequences, did ya?” Simon asks rhetorically, voice gone brassy and tiger-stripped, thick in his chest. “Been sleeping in my bed for nearly a year, ‘aven’t ya? Ain’t I owed this?”

He means it too.

“You’re—so full of it,” you retort, hiccuping through your words.

Your arms hang limp around his neck, fingers twined at his nape and nails scratching at his hairline. The low ache in his back is barely a deterrent—he’d hold you up all night if it took that long to make you come. A distant voice at the back of his head reminds him that he’ll suffer for it in the morning, but he shakes that thought away.

He chases the beads of sweat snaking down your chest and tits with his tongue, straightening back up only when that nearly makes you lose your grip around his neck and topple out of his arms.

“Hey,” you pout when Simon chuckles, digging your nails into his back in retribution for laughing at you. It has the opposite effect though, the pain stoking his pleasure and sending a shiver down his back, his next thrust so rough that you bounce in his arms.

Your skin smells like sweat and musk this close, so heady that his head spins. It registers dimly at the back of his mind that he’s still dressed while you’re fully nude, housecoat and knickers in a pile on the floor in front of the couch, but he can’t pull away now, not with the need to come pressing into him on all sides, dick hard enough to split diamonds.

He stares down between your legs where his cock splits you again and again, a ring of white cream at the base. He could paint that little snatch white with his cum or stuff it deep inside, both options appealing to his baser instincts. It’ll be a coin flip in the end.

When the ache in his back grows too significant to ignore, he lifts you up off the wall and drops you down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt before carrying you to the open door to the bedroom.

“Sorry, pet,” Simon murmurs when he feels you clench around the thickest part of his cock, whispering a little oh fuck to yourself under your breath. He kicks the door shut behind him with his heel. “Back’s shit. Mind taking over for me?”

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he sits down on the end. You blink up at him. “You want me on top?”

He nods and hums his assent, digging his fingers into the muscle and flesh of your ass and kneading. “Yeah, bird. Still wanna see all the pretty bits though.”

The pretty bits being the globes of your ass facing him while you ride his dick, his hands pulling apart your cheeks to watch you take it inch by inch, thighs quivering with the strain.

Your thighs are stretched out on either side of him, pretty calves resting perpendicular to his chest and toes curled into the mattress. He eyes those with some interest before your pussy distracts him again. There’s no angle that isn’t nice to look at, but this has got to be his favourite so far, tight bud between your cheeks clenching every time you drop down onto his dick. It’s easy to ignore the ache in his shoulder with a view this nice.

“Fuck, birdie,” Simon murmurs, dragging his hand over your ass and then swatting it, grunting when that makes you clench up around him, inner walls squeezing his length and nearly milking him dry. “Coulda been doing this the whole time.”

You laugh a bit breathlessly. “No—you were way too annoying.”

Smack. You yelp when he backhands your ass and your shoulders go stiff, spine a taut line with your impending orgasm. Simon can feel it like a knot in his throat, pussy so hot that it nearly burns him alive.

“Shit,” you gasp, hands on his legs the only thing keeping you upright. You nearly rip out the hair on his thighs when you curl them into fists.

His hands glide up and down your sides, touching wherever he wants. It’s his God given right after housing you for so long, and though Simon clings belligerently to that belief, like the foundation of his existence is built on quid pro quo, on doing nothing for others unless there’s something in it for him, there’s something else that burrows underneath that maxim. Something far truer and more terrifying, and if he were to look it dead on, it would bring him to his knees.

Simon grunts, lungs pummelled when you squeeze around his length, tight as a vice.

Good thing you’ve got him on his back instead.

In the end, it’s not up to him whether he comes in you or not. When his cockhead bumps against your cervix and he feels teardrops land on his thighs, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs, the spigot loosens and his stomach aches with how hard he comes. His heels dig into the mattress, hips lifting up, trying to cram more and more of his cock into your cunt, tendons straining against his neck.

“Take it, bird,” Simon snarls, teeth grinding together, his voice sounding wrecked even to him. “Take it nice ‘n deep, fuck—wanna see it leak from your hole when I pull ya off—”

Your nails sink into his thighs, cutting him off.

He does too, when you flop down beside him onto the bed and he tucks you under his arm, spreading your legs so he can push his cum back into your cunt, fingers pearly white with your mixed juices.

“Oh God,” you whisper, squeezing your thighs together around his hand until he’s forced to wrench them open again, hovering over you this time, the cudgel dangling between his legs already thickening up again.

And that’s how he spends his week, in a suspended state of euphoria, no sense of time passing. It doesn’t matter where it goes as long as you crawl into bed with him at the end of the day, eyes sparkling with delight.

The leaving is tougher than it’s ever been, claws scoring right through his chest when Simon tips your chin up and leans down to slot his lips over yours. He’s not made for this sentimental bullshit, but it finds him either way.

His chest burns on the drive back to base, acid reflux a bitch as always.

The next time his landlord calls, he comes bearing good news.

“I’ll cut you a deal on the first month to make up for the…mix up,” he starts begrudgingly. “But don’t worry—the girl’ll be out of your hair by the end of the month. Gonna tell her today that I can’t renew her lease.”

Simon hangs up without saying a word, swathed in anger. Nearly crushes the phone in his grip when his landlord calls back a second later. He ignores that call too.

If he were a different man, if this was a different world—

No one ever knows when their world is about to change until it does.

But even if his walls have grown barbed wires in the years that he’s been alone, there’s always a way to dig out from under.

The return home is different this time around, the wind under his sails all but lifting him into the air.

A year to the date almost. Another month and time will wrap back around on itself, the seasons changing the same way they have for all thirty-seven years of his life. When fate lets him go this time, Simon heads over to Price’s office before taking off for the week, carving out time for one last drink before he hits the road. Over a whiskey and kretek, he tells Price his plan and only just keeps from rolling his eyes when Price barks a laugh, clapping his hands together.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Shut up.”

“It’s a big step, Simon. I’m proud of you.”

Simon rolls his eyes, pleased despite himself. “Stuff it, old man.”

And then he’s gone again, following the same winding road back, with one stop along the way this time. He stays overnight at a local inn after signing the paperwork, too exhausted to keep driving. Too much on his mind anyway.

It means nothing to him that people do this sort of thing all the time. He has survived the locust years of his life and come out the other side. That should be enough to give himself some grace when he tosses and turns all night, back pain flaring up and immobilizing him for an hour. Only when the first rays of dawn pierce through the threadbare curtains does it finally abate, and he heads out after his morning piss, ignoring the cramp in his belly on the drive over.

You greet him at the door when you hear his car pull up, standing under the door frame while he gets out and rounds the car, bare toes curling at the cold air. And any effort to tamp it down now is in vain, his chest filling with something unspeakable and unsaid.

“Put your shoes on,” Simon instructs, coming over just to pull you in for a kiss before nudging you back into the flat, shutting the door behind him.

“Why?” you ask, lifting a brow. “Wanna go for coffee or something like that?”

“Something like that. Why aren’t you putting your shoes on?”

Herded into the truck after getting dressed, you badger him with question after question the whole drive over while Simon keeps his mouth shut, focusing on the road in front of him. It’s not a long drive at least, but your incessant questions make it last an eternity.

Until he pulls up in front of a house with a short gravel walkway and a garden in desperate need of attention, milkvetch growing near the front step. The outdoor sconces are new though, and though Simon already has a few things in mind to fix up around the house, it’s got good bones. Leagues nicer than the place you just left.

“Are we picking someone up?” you ask when he puts the car in park, confused. You stare at the door as if waiting for it to open.

Simon doesn’t respond.

You look over at him and he takes one of your hands, holding it palm-side up and covering it with his own ugly mitt. You feel something cold drop from his hand into yours and he curls your fingers into a fist to hold it.

“No.”

When his hand moves away, you uncurl your fingers to find a key. It means so little and so much all at once. If he could say it with words, it wouldn’t be the same so there’s no point in trying.

“It’s ours?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

There’s a watery sheen over your eyes when you look up, and your lip wobbles. And in a way different than ever before, his chest grows tight, the ache in his heart a fresh and welcome pain.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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reluctaunt · 1 year ago

Note

Judging by her reaction, Michael can tell Vanessa didn’t expect to find him in their shared kitchen— why would she? It’s three in the morning, there isn’t a single light aside from the soft glow of the refrigerator, and all he has in hand is a bag of shredded cheese. “Uh— … sorry,” he responds to the way she jumps. “Couldn’t sleep.”

✧ . * ｡ ⋆ — For a moment, all Vanessa can do is stand wide - eyed in the entryway of their ( rather small, barely big enough for two people ) kitchen. Hardly processing the sight before her as something happening in her reality ; she feels barely awake, having rolled out of bed with the half - conscious thought of refilling her water and the intention of passing out once more the moment her body hit the mattress.

Seeing her roommate in the kitchen, barely illuminated, like some sort of vaguely humanoid creature at the fridge is not what she expected in the slightest.

( some part of her thinks it looks like a sight from a goddamn horror movie ).

"The hell ... "

Comes muttered response, barely audible as her eyes flicker from Michael's face to the bag of cheese he's currently shoving a hand into. All at once, she decides its far too late to deal with this in any rational way — scrubs a hand down her face before brushing past him on the way to the sink, where she silently fills up her own glass and turns to leave the kitchen.

"You better replace that. I was going to make tacos this week."

And with that, she's going back to bed.

#bravevolunteer #IC * / pretty little things wilt away ).#* ASK / roads that lead to nowhere ).#HELP HELP HELP #ROOMMATES AU MY BELOVED

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gyuuberryy · 5 months ago

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trapped

READ THE FULL FIC HERE

pairing: hotel owner!heeseung x reader

genre: reincarnation au, supernatural themes, horror

synopsis: a road trip with your parents gone wrong lands you at a mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere. after it turns out to be a hotel, your parents decide to stop over. everything about this place screams deja vu to you which is strange because you've never even heard about it. the hotel was not the only weird thing though, its handsome yet mysterious owner who looked like he stepped out of the 1920s is way too enthusiastic about your stay. every encounter with him leaves you feeling weirded out yet enamoured. but he is not who you think he seems to be. he will be the one to decide the duration of your stay here and it looks like it will not be ending anytime soon.

warnings: horror themes, suggestive content, slight yandere themes, manipulation, possessive!hee, more to be added!

note: let's ignore the fact that i have so many reports and essays to write for school rn !!!! because i HAD to release smth for halloween. this should be out by next weekkk

word count: 24.2k

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist

ᨓ READ THE TEASER BELOW

heeseung’s words seemed to echo in the cavernous dining hall, each syllable hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest.

you shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how isolated you were from everyone else. your parents were somewhere outside, wandering the sprawling gardens with sunoo, oblivious to the tension brewing in this room. and you were here—alone with heeseung, who was studying you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

he leaned back in his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. “this mansion has a long history,” he began, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “it’s been standing for centuries, long before this area became what it is now.”

you swallowed, trying to keep your unease from showing. “centuries? that’s… impressive.”

heeseung nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his plate in a casual, almost absent-minded way. “impressive, yes. but also… haunted by its past.” his eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “you see, many who come here find themselves drawn in by the allure of the unknown. they come seeking something different, something unique. and often, they find more than they bargained for.”

you felt a chill run down your spine. the way he spoke—so calm, so composed—made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it was as if he was telling you a story he had told many times before, one with a punchline you wouldn’t like.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm. you didn’t want to seem rattled, even though you were starting to feel like the walls were closing in around you.

heeseung’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “let’s just say this mansion has a way of revealing things… about the people who stay here. things they may not even realize about themselves.”

your pulse quickened. “that sounds a little ominous.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and unsettling. “it’s not meant to be. it’s just… the nature of this place. it has a way of bringing the truth to the surface. you’ll see, in time.”

you didn’t like the way he said that, as if you were going to be here long enough for the mansion to work its mysterious magic on you. you were only supposed to stay until the car was fixed, and then you and your family would be gone. the thought of staying here any longer than necessary made your stomach churn.

“i don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that,” you said, forcing a small smile.

heeseung’s eyes flashed with something—disappointment? amusement? it was hard to tell. “you never know,” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “sometimes, plans change.”

you glanced away, focusing on your barely touched plate. the food that had once looked so appealing now seemed like a burden, something you had no appetite for. you just wanted this conversation to end, to find your parents and get out of this place as soon as possible.

as if sensing your discomfort, heeseung leaned back again, his demeanor shifting ever so slightly. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s just that… guests here tend to stay longer than they anticipate. this place has a way of… captivating people.”

the word captivating sounded too much like trapping for your liking.

before you could respond, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as your parents entered, laughing and chatting with sunoo, who was still wearing his unsettlingly bright smile. their carefree demeanor was such a stark contrast to the tension you’d been feeling that it almost made you dizzy.

“sweetie, you should see the gardens!” your mom exclaimed as she approached the table, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease between you and heeseung. “they’re absolutely gorgeous. i’ve never seen anything like it.”

your dad nodded in agreement, beaming. “it’s like something out of a storybook.”

you forced a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm. “that’s great. i’m glad you had fun.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked to heeseung for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them, and then he turned his bright gaze back to your family. “i’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the estate before you leave.”

you stiffened at his words, catching the subtle implication. you weren’t leaving any time soon.

heeseung stood then, smoothing down the front of his suit, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat too long before he addressed your parents. “i’ve arranged for the mechanic to give me an update on the car shortly. in the meantime, please, make yourselves comfortable. feel free to explore the mansion further if you’d like.”

your parents seemed delighted by the prospect, but you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was trying to keep you here, that every step you took deeper into the mansion only tangled you further in its web.

heeseung’s gaze slid back to you, his smile as charming and unsettling as ever. “i’ll make sure everything is taken care of. don’t worry.”

but worry was all you could feel as your family began to follow sunoo out of the dining hall, leaving you to trail behind, your thoughts spinning. as you exited the room, you couldn’t help but glance back at heeseung, who stood by the door, watching you with that same piercing gaze.

there was something about the way he looked at you—something that made you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

and you weren't sure if you could escape.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#౨ৎ 𝓐dy writes🪄#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #halloween 2024 #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fics #heeseung oneshots #kpop fics #enhypen horror au #heeseung horror #enhypen horror #horror fics

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nsharks · 13 days ago

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. harm to a child. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

The rattle of vials cuts through the quiet sobbing as you raid the cabinet, stuffing a backpack with painkillers and wound care.

"We had antibiotics on us. Where are they?"

From the corner of the room, the response breaks apart. "I don't... I don't know about any... This is all we have."

You drop the backpack in favor of the gun at your waist, and direct it at her. "Don't lie to me."

"I-I'm not! I don't know where they are!"

A twist in your gut says she's honest. "Is there any alcohol?" you press with a curl at your lips.

"There's... some... under there."

You lower the gun and move to the sink, uncorking a half-filled bottle that reeks of absinthe. It fits snugly into the backpack. A nod to Nereida. She lowers her own gun from the young woman’s temple. Straps over your shoulders, you step into the smoke-tinged air, leaving the woman behind, when her accented voice chokes out: "You have taken... everything from us."

You stand in the doorway, watching a piece of ash fall on the scuffed leather of your shoe, then glance over your shoulder. "There is still some medicine left in there. Take what you can, get the other women, and leave. This place could be teeming with Greys soon with all the blood spilt. Travel north. We're going south." Her glossy eyes drift up from her hands. Your gaze hardens. "We will kill you if we see you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispers.

You look away. "Salome is in the cell. Alive."

The flames lick at the chapel’s frame as you return to the others. The stone walls have blackened, the door swallowed in fire, windows shattered. The acrid stench of scorched wood and charred flesh burns your nose. The last survivors—the few men left after Price and Kyle cleared the barn—had been shoved inside with the Grey.

You need to get out of here—away from the stench of blood. Clean water is urgent. A safe place to treat everyone's wounds, even more so, though the missing antibiotics linger in the back of your mind. Adrenaline wearing off, you move quickly, pausing only to hastily dress Blue's feet and Ghost's back with medical cloth from the cabinet before continuing down the main road. While everyone yields a backpack and gun, Ghost carries Blue to his chest. He hasn't once let her go.

The flames still flicker behind you when his grip falters. He stops to adjust her weight, and you touch his elbow, speaking low. "Let Price or Kyle carry her."

"I've got it."

You don’t press, though the gnawing concern remains. How much blood has he lost? You can only hope it's clotted enough to hold a bit longer.

The only words Price manages are instructions—what to watch for to indicate freshwater. Downward slopes, converging animal tracks. You’re nowhere near as injured as the others, yet your thighs shake, your vision blurs, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut to regain focus. You still flinch at every sound, ready for blood.

An hour out, the sun hangs heavy. Dense vegetation and a small cliffside offer promise. Carefully, you help each other down. Ghost finally relents, letting Blue cling onto Price’s shoulders so he can manage rappelling down the rocks. You stay close without thinking, your hand ghosting over his bicep when he wavers.

Then you smell it. Water.

Relief nearly buckles your knees.

A narrow creek winds between boulders, tucked beneath towering cypresses.

Everyone washes off the blood, dulling the stench. A fire will be needed to clean it for the wounds. As you rake water through your hair, your gaze drifts upstream—where cypresses give way to ripened plum trees, bordering what seems like a property. Price sees it too. He’s already shouldering his backpack, moving to check it out.

The gown pools at your ankles, dipping into the shallow water as you cross. The property is silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of a woodpecker. You tighten your grip on the gun, scanning the unkempt garden and overgrown path leading to the estate—a summer home fit for a family or, as you soon realize, two wealthy old fucks. Their skeletons are all that remain inside, draped in dust like the furniture around them.

Price lowers the rifle to his side and nods in approval. "This will do."

If you could, you’d strip off the stained gown and shut your eyes. Instead, you follow Ghost as he kicks open doors—nothing but a bathroom and parlor. On the second floor, the first door to meet his boot reveals a bedroom. You shake the dust from the quilt, and he carefully lays Blue down. You're already sifting through the backpack.

Ghost kneels to take her feet. He fumbles with the cloth, exhaustion stealing motor function. You help, unveiling the jagged cuts edged with dirt. Ghost grits, "They did this?"

"I did," she whispers. "I hoped you'd find me... and the Greys... they got distracted by my shoes."

Her words linger as you dab alcohol onto a strip of cloth. "This will hurt," you whisper, biting your cheek.

Ghost grips her ankle to keep it still and takes her hand, offering something to squeeze. At first touch, her nails claw at his wrist. Her lips press tightly together to muffle a small sound that dies in her throat, and then she falls silent. Her eyes flutter shut, reopening only to release a lone tear when you finish with both, then wrap them again.

"Your arms," you say, reaching for them. One is already bandaged—must've been done by them. The other is freshly cut. When you try to look at it, she recoils, inhaling sharply.

"They did this one, didn't they?" he asks.

A slight nod of her chin.

Anger leeches from Ghost's skin.

He exhales sharply through flared nostrils, then gently takes her wrist, pressing a kiss to the skin just before the cut begins.

"Let Twix clean it, baby."

Her fist clenches before she offers you her arm. More tears cut a trail down to her lips.

"There. Let's get you something else to wear," you breathe out, stuffing the cork back in once it's over.

What you find in the closet is at least better than the bloodied dress she was supposed to die in—a large flannel shirt that smells like old man. Blue accepts it, but stares at the shirt in her hands for a long moment before asking Ghost to look away. He does, and you help her, keeping your eyes on hers while undressing her.

You turn to Ghost. "Your turn," you whisper.

Lowering to the bed is a great effort, one you have to steady with a hand under his armpit. As gently as possible, you peel the cloth from his back. Seeing his wounds before did nothing to prepare you for this—up close, in the unforgiving sunlight. Deep, inflamed gashes ooze fresh blood at the disruption. The stench of festering flesh makes it hard to focus as you murmur for Blue to touch his hair, distract him for the first dab of alcohol.

Where Blue was able to silence herself, he cannot. Not when it’s this bad. The terrible, wrecked groan and the violent jerk of his body make you want to disappear—to run and let someone else do this to him. But you know you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t trust anyone else to. So you steady the tremble in your fingers and continue, the room heavy with his pain. It finds its way to your back, as though someone behind you is holding a whip. The phantom pain sinks into your skin with each of his groans, forcing you to push it away to steady your hand as you work.

Blue twists her fingers in his hair, whispering in his ear. "It's almost over, dad."

By the time the wounds are cleaned, redness remains, offering little reassurance. Over a day's worth of sweat and bacteria isn't something you can simply undo. You'll need to keep an eye on them for infection. You sift through the vials and push two painkillers to his lips, helping him sit up to swallow them. As you’re about to help him back down, he grabs onto your wrist, a pulse of pain pulling your gaze to where you slit your own vein. The linen strip is soaked through. Ghost silently unties it and reaches for the alcohol at the bedside table.

"They did that?" Blue questions from behind him.

"I did."

The pain sears as he cleans it, though it’s nothing compared to his.

When he lays back on his stomach, there’s no fighting the heaviness of his eyelids. Blue curls up beside him, wincing. You get her two painkillers as well.

"Is he going to be alright?" she asks quietly.

You pull the light quilt over her body. "His body just needs to rest. So does yours."

"That's not an answer, Twix."

The way she calls you out makes your face fall. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know."

There is a pause of silence before she sighs audibly, arms falling flat at her sides and her gaze finding the ceiling. "I don't think I can sleep."

Your chest tightens at the thought of what she must be thinking of, what she must have seen when you weren't with her. The wounds you can't wrap up. You dig for one of the sedatives: lorazepam. "Here."

It takes a while for it to take effect.

"You're safe," you whisper to her, over and over, tucking her hair behind her ear until you feel the subtle shift in her muscles as they slowly loosen from their panicked tension. When sleep finally comforts her, a shift in the air causes you to leap up.

"It's me," Nereida whispers, poking in her head. "The others are sleeping, too."

Right. The others. "They're alright?"

"Just a few fractured ribs."

"Someone needs to keep watch."

"I'll do it." Seeing the protest twist on your face, she adds, "You haven't slept in days."

She's right. It was impossible to sleep in that cell outside of being drugged.

You give in. "Patrol the whole property if you can. And keep track of the air. The flowers here should help mask our scent, but—"

"I've got it, Twix."

The fatigue truly hits when she leaves. You barely have enough fight in you left to peel off the stupid dress and raise another flannel shirt from the closet over your head, the hem resting above your knees. There is a chair in the room—that's where you sink down, knees tucked to your chest. At first when you close your eyes, the world is loud and red. Then, it quiets to black.

A dove call announces morning, and you jolt awake to fresh light from the window.

You fell asleep.

They've already killed her.

You didn't get there in time—

Your gaze lands on the small body lying in the bed beside a much larger one, and the panic escapes through a shaky breath. You inhale and exhale to calm your heart rate before uncurling from the chair to touch Blue's soft cheek. The skin is cool. You move to her father next. Palm to his forehead. Hot, dry skin snaps your touch away as if burning you.

"Fucking shit," chokes out of you, along with a fresh wave of urgency. Blue stirs in her sleep. You clamp a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself and whirl out of the room. A fever: you need water. If you hadn't slept so long, you could've boiled some sooner. With the recovered energy, you race outside in the chilled morning air.

Nereida sits up from the porch.

"Good morning. You're the first one up. I haven't seen—"

"He is burning up," you seethe. "You should've waken me. I slept all through the night!"

Her eyes widen. "I didn't—"

You push past her. "I'm getting water."

She lightly touches your elbow. "I already got some from the creek. I boiled it over the fireplace." She rushes to show you the full metal pot in the kitchen.

You don't pause to say thank you, hoisting the water upstairs to urgently wet a cloth and place it over his forehead. His lashes flutter, once, then twice, before fully opening.

"You have a fever," you exhale, swallowing hard. "I need you to drink a little."

He sits up to swallow a handful of the water from your palm, faint bobs of his throat, and you feel just how dry his lips are. His voice emerges low. "Did they have anything for it?"

"I couldn't find the antibiotics," you bitterly admit, swiping a thumb over the faint freckle on his temple, as if maybe, the sip of water has already changed the temperature. It hasn't. A growl pushes under your breath. "The bitch probably lied to me and took them. We'll need to experiment a bit for now."

"Sounds promising," he manages through his teeth. He glances down at his daughter. "She's alright?"

"She's okay, not warm." You inhale sharply. "Lay down. Let me look at it again."

When he does, you gently remove the bandages and are met with yellow-green pus. The sound that fills your throat, caught between helplessness and disgust, has him popping an eye open to look back at you over his shoulder. "Sorry, it's just..." Another explicative leaves your lips, and you have to bite your cheek hard to keep from vomiting at the sight and smell. Blue is awake now, sitting up against the pillow; she need only glance over once for her face to twist in concern.

"It's bad, isn't it?" She covers her mouth.

"I need to drain it," is what you say. Luckily, it's already oozing, saving the need to puncture the wounds open. You wet another cloth and carefully press at the swollen ridge of the first laceration, making him groan through his teeth as pus begins to run down his sides. Blue has one hand back in his hair, and uses another wet cloth to collect the pus. You keep pressing, draining each irregular wound, having to remind yourself the rotten smell being released is for the better.

After what feels like hours, it's mostly cleared. Only a bit of swelling remains, revealing just how deeply the skin was shredded, as if slashed through repeatedly in the same spots.

"How come you were hurt more than the others?" Blue asks him the question you've been mulling over since the moment you found him.

"I was their favorite," he mumbles lowly. "The most handsome."

Your brows lower.

"It's not funny," she presses, nails twisting in his hair, teeth grinding. "It's infected. You could fucking die."

"I won't," he says to her, but the silent, heavy glance you exchange with him acknowledges the understanding that he very well could, deepening the harsh pit in your stomach. "We have a nurse here."

"An unlicensed one." You finish securing a new layer of cloth and lean back. "And one without real medicine." Realizing you are supposed to be reassuring her, you hide the way your nails pick each other and add, "But draining all that pus will help. Eating will help even more," you look at Blue, "For you, too."

Blue and you share a meal of wild cucumbers, strawberries, and two small field mice you catch by the creek, swiftly snapping their necks before skinning them. For Ghost, you boil the bones with garden carrots to make a broth. You have to coax him into finishing it, no matter how it tastes, promising that once it's done, he can sleep longer.

By the time the others are awake, you and Blue have failed to leave his side, simply watching the continued rise and fall of his chest as if it might halt if you look away. "Please get better," you catch her murmuring. The only time you go is to speak with Price, informing him that Ghost is in no condition to travel again.

"Twix," he interrupts you, the knowing tick in his brow, and worn smile, making you realize you'd been rambling, your tone coming off a bit accusatory. "I have no intention for us to continue yet. No one is ready for it. We need food, and rest."

You release a filtered sigh, nodding. "I can help hunt, I just need to—"

A firm hand finds your shoulder. His seafoam eyes glance past you at the door to the bedroom, then back into your gaze, low voice barely above a murmur. "You've done more than enough. Let us take care of the food. Just make sure we don't lose him, alright?"

You nod, and when he turns to leave, you mutter to yourself, "I'm trying."

You spend the evening refreshing his bandages, and draining the new wave of pus. You have the idea to look for onions in the garden, remembering they have antimicrobial properties, but there aren't any. So you clean the wounds again with a flush of water, and also scrub his dirty hair a bit. Your brain must be tricking you, because once when you touch him it feels like his fever has at least dropped a degree or two, but then a minute later it feels like it went up more. There is practically no color to his skin except the angry red of his wounds, and the rosy sheen on his cheeks. Other than that he is a pale ghost. It's as if your efforts haven't done a thing.

Frustration strangles your lungs, and you palm at your forehead. His body, deprived of sleep and nutritions for days, is struggling to bounce back, to fight off the encroaching bacteria. His unyielding strength is yielding; succumbing. He needs more food and water. You try to sit him up again, retrieving a small bit of leftover broth, but he is unable to help pull his weight.

"Come on, Simon. Please."

He's too heavy for you, even with Blue pulling at his other arm.

You hurry out of the room and call for Price. He and Nereida are there quickly, his rifle ready. "No, I just need—I need you to lift him."

Price drops the gun to steady Simon up despite the heavy hiss of protest. "Gotta eat, Simon."

He holds him as you spoon broth to his mouth, having to rub at his jaw to release enough tension for him to open it and swallow.

The room is quiet once it's all done, and Nereida stands in the doorway with her head hung low. Price carefully lays him back down so as not disturb the work you've done to his back. He glances at the empty bowl in your hands. "Kyle cut up some squirrels he killed earlier. I'll tell him to make more broth with them in the morning."

All you can do is nod and pass the bowl to him.

When they leave, the heaviness in the room has Blue picking at her wrist. You take her hand, placing another painkiller and sedative in them, and urge her to lay down for more rest.

"I'll stay up with him, alright?"

Her chin drops, and she stares blankly at the quilt. "What happens to me if he dies?"

The hollowness in her voice cuts through you. "We can't think like that," you murmur, refusing to acknowledge how terrified the answer makes you.

"Why not?" Her eyes blaze in the dark. "It's a possibility. I've never seen him like this before."

You shake your head, touching two fingers under her jaw to tilt it up so yours eyes meet. "He's stubborn, like you. And he has too much to live for. He loves you."

She looks away. "I'm not like him. I wouldn't be able to keep going on my own."

"You’ll never be on your own. He and I... we will always come for you," you swear, your voice firmer than you intend. You soften it to a whisper, breathing out, "But even if you were, you’re smarter and stronger than anyone here. There’s nothing you can’t handle, Blue. It was you who kept yourself alive this time."

"It was just luck," she murmurs, curling a fist into the sheet below her. She peers back at you. "If you guys hadn’t found me, I would’ve been bitten to death."

"No," you insist. "It wasn’t luck. You survived because you saw the opportunities, and you took them. You made time for us to find you. You are just like him."

Emotion floods through you, thick and reeling. Without thinking, you pull her into a solid hug, pressing your nose to her scalp. "You’re just like him," you whisper again, screwing your eyes shut. White-hot tears escape, burning a quiet trail down your cheeks, and you feel her begin to tremble in your arms, silently soaking your shirt with her own tears.

Through them, she manages to whisper, twisting your shirt in her fists, "I-I don't want him to leave me again. H-he said he wouldn't."

"He won't," you promise, struggling to catch your breath through a choke, the words rushing out of you. "Never again. I won't let it happen."

After minutes, hours, like this, she grows limp with exhaustion, and you lay her back down, tucking her under the quilt and wiping your cheeks.

You resume position in the chair by Ghost.

This time, you refuse to close your eyes, locking them onto him—the way his cheek is squished against the pillow, the bare stretch of his arm, the curve of his ribs where an old scar splits into the new ones. You keep pulling the blanket over him, thinking maybe the extra heat will break his fever, only to rip it back off moments later, convinced the cool night air would be better. Frustration burns behind your eyes as you rub them hard, then press your forehead against the uninjured part of his shoulder.

“Goddamn it, Simon,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to trace your thumb over the freckles there, connecting them with soft, absentminded sweeps of your finger.

He needs more.

Real medicine.

Either the women are long gone with it, or it's somewhere none of them knew of.

This is what you mull over well into the night when sleep threatens with a pull at your lids, and again, you see red. Blood-red. Like the burst of an open throat. You reopen them and jolt up to your feet, panting hard. The need for a distraction to keep yourself awake pulls you out of the room for a stretch of your legs, pupils straining against the dark hall as you stumble through it, crossing your arms over yourself. You've barely looked through this place besides what was necessary, so it's a surprise when you happen upon a spiral staircase going up, not down.

A cool metal rail bites your fingertips as you heave upward, revealing a small attic library. Dark oak shelves reach the low ceiling, all of the leather spines neatly alined as if never having been touched even once: a capsule of time. A large window at the far end offers enough moonlight for your eyes to scan the embellished spines as you brush a finger over them, various French titles staring back at you. You work your way to the window, where the thin curtain is parted just enough to allow you a view of the creek, cliffside, and dark horizon where stars disappear into distant earth.

"I shouldn't have believed her. I should've made her talk more." The words barely leave your lips before the stench of burning flesh fills your senses. Your hands shake violently. With a sudden, forceful yank, you tear the curtain from the rod. Your voice cracks, rising with rage. "I should have killed her—all of them. I shouldn't have let a single one walk away!"

You spin around and begin pulling books off the shelves, ripping at pages, thrashing them at the floor with a cacophony of thuds, until only half are left untouched. The years-old dust caking the covers explodes into your eyes, stinging them, and tears begin to fall, the painful kind. They come hard, ragged, anything but quiet. You sink to the oriental rug, burying your face into your knees and hugging them close as you sob through your teeth, scraping your nails into your shins.

You picture them all—the blonde man, the old woman, the veiled girls. In your mind, you cut them to shreds. Nerves severed, eyes burst. Until you’re drowning in their entrails.

There is a voice. In your head maybe. But no, it's real—someone touches your shoulder, and you flinch. You lift your gaze, and through it, make out the shape of warm, almond eyes, one of them half-opened beneath a swollen bruise.

Kyle kneels beside you. He doesn't say anything, just sits there, his knee touching yours the only point of connection. When your crying subsides, you feel a tinge of embarrassment at the state he's found you in, and wipe at your cheeks. "Sorry. I woke you up."

"I was already awake."

Silence hums between you, and he thoughtlessly picks up one of the books, thumbing through the pages, then quietly closes it.

"We all owe you our lives, you know. Nereida told us about all you did."

You dig your chin into the tops of your knees and stare off at the wall. "I still didn't do enough."

"You're doing all you can." His gaze pierces into the side of your face, making you feel translucent. "He'll be alright. Always is."

You don't know what to say to that, sighing through flared nostrils and looking down at your feet before over at him. "How is Ari?"

"He's alright. Just shaken, I think. Thank you for asking." A tinge of guilt finds you that you haven't checked on them enough. Ari, just a boy, and he's hardly crossed your mind through any of this.

"You know," Kyle continues quietly, his knuckles whitening around the book. "When we were in there, I didn’t know what to say to get him through it—because I couldn't see much hope myself. I had to watch, do nothing, while they made him memorize that goddamn book just to earn a meal. And he wasn’t allowed to share any with me." He lets out a short, bitter snort. "I've never felt so fucking weak. So powerless. Watching someone you love suffer, not knowing how to help them..." His gaze locks onto yours. "That has to be a pain worse than any torture."

His words catch you off guard. All you can do is reach for him, gripping his shoulders in a firm hug, evening your heart rate. He murmurs a promise about the broth, his hand brushing your shoulder before he excuses himself.

Returning to the bedroom, you check their pulses—her pinky curled around his in sleep. You press a kiss to Blue’s hair, then, without thinking, let your lips brush her father's fevered temple. All you can think of is the harsh burn of his skin, and the medicine you know he needs.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #zombie apocolypse au

894 notes · View notes

shuaflix · 1 year ago

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driving lessons for dummies

❝ i can't parallel park, but i know all the lyrics to 'driver's license' by olivia rodrigo now. ❞

PAIRING ▸ kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor, smut, strangers to lovers au, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, weed consumption, mc has the worst luck imaginable, soonyoung is down horrendous, there is a minor car crash, very minor description of blood, hurt/comfort, almost car sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), grinding, oral (fem. receiving), praise, lots of teasing, overstimulation, pet names (both sexy and unsexy), friend group shenanigans

SUMMARY ▸ you've finally passed your written test and gotten your permit after six failed attempts. eager to get your license while attempting to avoid overpriced driving lessons, you enlist the help of kwon soonyoung, who only requires a STIIZY pod as payment.

PLAYLIST ▸ new romantics by taylor swift • see you again by tyler, the creator, kali uchis

WORD COUNT ▸ 16,834 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is representation for all the girlies out there who can't drive. not me but

ONE OF THE MOST COMMON STEREOTYPES PERPETUATED AGAINST WOMEN WAS THAT THEY WERE DEEMED TERRIBLE DRIVERS.

That, or they just flat-out couldn’t drive to save their lives.

This sexist notion dated back to when the automobile was created, when driving was physically demanding work and men insisted they handled operating the vehicles themselves. Now, though, plenty of women drove just fine, but misogyny was the only thing keeping the stereotype relevant.

After all, the only reason why women were considered “bad drivers” was because a man decided they were.

Screw all the women who revolutionized the automobile industry, right? Despite them being highly discouraged to take on the labor required of men, it was Bertha Benz who drove the furthest in a motorized carriage than anyone else. It was Anne French who was the first woman to receive a driver’s license. It was Marget Wilcox who invented the car heater, Mary Anderson who created windshield wipers, and Hedy Lamar who designed the wireless transmission technology that made the innovation of the GPS possible.

No matter how high that glass ceiling was, even if a woman demolished and obliterated it to pieces, there would always be a man out there who would push her right back down.

Unfortunately, you were nowhere near smashing that glass ceiling because you had failed your permit test six times.

Yes, it was embarrassing, but you were determined to get your license. At your age, it was getting ridiculous that you had consistently failed your permit test this many times. Plus, you were getting tired of asking all of your friends for rides. You envisioned picking them up in your new car with your shiny new license, grinning smugly at the shocked looks on their faces.

“I don’t think God wants you on the road,” Wen Junhui, your best friend since middle school, said as he dropped you off at the DMV. “If you fail a seventh time, I would personally just use public transportation for the rest of my life.”

“If a sixteen-year-old can pass it without studying, then I can pass it,” you insisted. “Plus, I read the entire manual last night.”

“Yeah, except the sixteen-year-old passed it on their first or second try, and this is your seventh.”

“Well, seventh time’s the charm, right?”

“Right,” he replied, doubtful. He stopped the car in front of the DMV to let you out. “Well, good luck. I’m gonna go get gas and I’ll come back for you.”

“Thanks, Jun!” you chirped. “I swear I’ll pass it this time.”

“Sure.”

“Have some faith in me, please.”

When Junhui drove away, you steeled your nerves to mentally prepare yourself—not for the test but for interacting with the DMV employees. You weren’t a fan of being verbally abused by them, especially after having them roll their eyes at you the last six times you had to tell them you failed.

But today would be different.

Thankfully, the DMV wasn’t too busy today. You only had to wait twenty minutes until they called your number. After handing them the proper paperwork, you were directed to the computers to take the permit test.

Since you were an adult, you only needed to get 30 questions correct out of 36. You had learned your lesson by now, so you actually studied the handbook this time. It took a while to admit to yourself that you weren’t blessed with common sense.

First question. Wrong.

Second question. Wrong.

Third question. Wrong.

What was happening?

By the time you had gotten five questions wrong in a row, your hands were shaking. The pressure started to set back in, and you were terrified about failing this exam a seventh time. Junhui would be so disappointed if you told him you failed again.

You felt the back of your shirt cling to your skin once the sixth question was incorrect. This was ridiculous; you had studied, but these questions were strangely specific. It was like someone at the DMV had it out for you.

Maybe Junhui was right. Maybe God didn’t want you on the road.

You felt like your brain had entered auto-pilot to protect yourself from the discouraging loss of your permit yet again. You clicked through the rest of the questions mindlessly, hardly thinking about anything until—

You passed!

The white screen flashed in your face for about a minute before you could register it properly. All you could do was blink and stare until you pinched your wrist to make sure you weren’t seeing things.

Had you really gotten the rest of the 30 questions right after your consecutive failed attempts? You were so worked up over the six you missed that the rest felt like a blur. Maybe the problem was that you had been overthinking the test this entire time.

“I did it,” you breathed out to the woman at the counter, still in disbelief. “I passed.”

“Congratulations,” she replied with little enthusiasm. She turned to grab papers from her printer, stapled them together, and handed you your brand new permit. “Have a nice day now.”

“Thank you so much,” you replied, slightly distracted as you inspected your learner’s permit with wide eyes.

You had been waiting for this day for so long, and here you were, holding the permit you had spent years trying to obtain. You could only imagine how thrilled your parents and friends would be once they found out.

Speaking of friends, when you checked your phone, you saw that Junhui had texted you five minutes ago that he was parked outside. He probably expected you to walk out with a gloomy expression and slumped shoulders, but you had a skip in your step this time. You finally had good news for your best friend.

“Jun!” you yelled before you even opened the door to the passenger’s seat. “Jun, Jun, Jun, Jun!”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said sympathetically, but something about his automatic response definitely felt practiced, “you’ll get it next time.”

“No, Jun, I passed!”

His eyes went wide. “You did?!”

“I did!” You squealed and practically jumped into the seat. Sinking back, a wide grin stretched across your face. “I finally did it.”

“Yo, congrats.” Junhui grinned. “I guess the seventh time really is the charm, huh?” He started his car to pull out of the parking lot. “Well, now you just have to pass the driving test.”

Your face fell.

You had been thinking about the permit test for so long that you forgot there was an actual driving component, too.

First of all, you had never driven a vehicle in your life, not even illegally with friends. Second of all, you had terrible depth perception, which was probably not a great flaw to have if you wanted to drive. Thirdly, everything you prepared for the permit test had completely ejected from your brain. Your road sense was back to utterly clueless.

“I’m gonna fail,” you said, defeated. “Jesus Christ, Jun, I didn’t even think about the actual driving test!”

“Relax, driving’s easy once you get the hang of it,” he replied. “What you should really be worrying about is how expensive those lessons are.”

“How much are they?”

“Uh, like, close to a few hundred.”

“Total?”

“No, per lesson.”

“Per lesson?!” you cried. “Just for someone to tell me where to turn and brake? I can’t afford that!”

“I’m guessing most of it is because they’re willingly sitting in a car with someone who doesn’t know shit about driving,” he explained, “but, yeah, it’s a crazy price. You do need to get that license before your permit expires, though, and you should probably get it done while you’re still here for college so you don’t run over the elementary schoolers back home.”

You buried your face in your hands and let out a loud groan. “How am I gonna dish out hundreds of dollars? I don’t have that kind of money to spend when I have rent to pay off.”

The corner of Junhui’s mouth lifted, more so exasperated than amused when he said, “I think I might know a guy.”

Kwon Soonyoung.

Junhui sent you his number after he dropped you off at your apartment. Apparently, Soonyoung was one of his good friends who also happened to have a side gig where he gave out driving lessons at a discounted price. Of course, the downside was that Soonyoung wasn’t exactly certified to teach people how to drive, but he was allegedly a good driver.

His lessons were normally for high schoolers, and he charged their parents around a hundred. For adults over the age of 21, though, he had a special offer that you couldn’t resist.

You texted him to ask if he had any open spots for you. He took a few days to reply, but you eventually got a two-hour slot for the next week. You weren’t sure how effective his lessons would be, but you figured you would give it a shot since he was your age and giving out classes for cheap.

When the day of your lessons rolled around, you were slightly anxious while you were waiting for him to arrive. You needed Junhui to reassure you for hours last night, promising that no, Soonyoung was not going to kidnap and murder you. He was a student at your university, actually, and he was a public health major who never had a murderous thought in his life.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’m outside your house

Okay, if he wasn’t a murderer, then the least he could do was not text you like one.

After replying with an omw that autocorrected to On my way! and left you feeling very distressed that your communication sounded overly-enthusiastic, you worked up the courage to walk outside to his Honda Accord.

“Hi,” you greeted shyly when you opened the door. “You’re Soonyoung, right?”

Honestly, you didn’t care if he was Soonyoung or not. The man sitting in the driver’s seat was probably one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. Even if he wasn’t Kwon Soonyoung, you would happily let him kidnap you. Maybe you’d even blush a little because he picked you of all people to kidnap.

He turned to look at you, seeming a little surprised that you opened the door but smiling nevertheless. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?”

When you nodded, he got out of the driver’s seat and motioned for you to take it. You skirted around the car to sit inside while Soonyoung took the passenger’s seat.

You also got a glance of his off-brand, beige Fear of God Essentials sweater that read M.I.L.F. Hunter instead. Classy.

“So, you came to me because you didn’t wanna give up your semester’s worth of college tuition for driving lessons,” Soonyoung said with an overwhelming air of confidence.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You huffed. “Here, I heard this was your payment.”

You handed him a paper bag, not bothering to take out the receipt from the dispensary. Inside was the King Louis XIII STIIZY pod. One gram.

“Ah, good. You know your stuff.”

Soonyoung hummed as he examined the box, and you were just wondering when he would get to business and start showing you the controls in his car. You were slightly overwhelmed by his impressively relaxed demeanor. Maybe it would have been better if you settled for an uptight woman in her sixties. Pretty boys were always trouble.

“You made the right choice coming to me. I’m a much better driver than those hags from the driving schools around here,” he continued. It was like he could read your mind; it was almost terrifying. “Plus, way less likely that I’ll get a heart attack in the passenger’s seat.”

He was a total weirdo, but he was hot, so you supposed it canceled out in some obscure, mathematical sense.

“That’s… good to hear, I think,” you replied. “So, are you, like, good at this?”

“Are you kidding? I’m basically the Lebron of driving.”

“I see.” You nodded along, unsure. “I don’t watch football, so…”

“He plays basketball, but close enough.”

After spending about thirty minutes explaining all of the controls—from hand signals, to the dashboard, to the indicator—Soonyoung decided it was time for you to start driving on your own. You didn’t expect to move this quickly; actually, you didn’t think you’d even start driving until your second lesson. Thankfully, you gathered most of what Soonyoung had taught you, so you mustered up the courage to press your foot on the brakes and move the gear shift into drive.

You looked over at Soonyoung expectantly, waiting for him to give you the green light to start driving. The boy only raised a brow at you, wondering why you hadn’t started driving yet.

“Today would be nice,” he remarked.

“Uh, should I start now?”

“Sorry, I don’t have a starting pistol for you or anything.” He made a finger gun with his hand and pretended to fire. “On your mark, get set—”

“Okay, going,” you replied quickly, flushing with embarrassment. You pressed down on the accelerator and gasped as the car lurched forward. “Sorry!”

“Slowly!” Soonyoung cried out, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle, which you found highly unnecessary and felt somewhat offended about. “Press down slowly—gentle.”

The next hour of your lessons was a learning curve, to say the least. In your defense, it was your very first time driving, so you didn’t know you were actually supposed to look behind you before you switched lanes. Although Soonyoung kept reminding you, his instructions kept slipping your mind because you were focusing on several things at once.

You sucked.

You were probably honked at around eight times and flipped off twice. It was a humbling experience, really. There was only so much a DMV victim could take, so you eventually had to pull over and try not to cry while Soonyoung consoled you.

“C’mon, you probably didn’t even do anything wrong. It’s just their road rage,” he said, trying to duck his head to get a better look at you while you had your hands covering your face. “Plus, all those assholes were driving way over the speed limit. You were the responsible one back there.”

You sniffled, sucking in a shuddering breath before you gathered your composure. It wasn’t like you to be so vulnerable in front of a stranger like this, but it was probably the nerves of your first time driving coupled with the nerves of driving (and potentially damaging) someone else’s car.

“You’re right.” You wiped at your damp cheek. “Fuck them. They couldn’t pass a driving test if they tried.”

“Well, technically, they already have.”

“Not helping.”

He smirked. “Are you good to keep driving? Or do you wanna wrap this session up for today?”

“Let’s keep going.” You set the car in drive again, but you looked over at Soonyoung before you did anything else. “Thanks, by the way. I’m guessing most of your students don’t usually pull over to cry during their lesson.”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t say it’s happened before, but it’s not a bad thing.”

It was a good thing that you were able to hide your blush from Soonyoung. With the clearly embarrassing impression you were making on him, it would have been mortifying if he found out that he was also making you flustered.

For the next thirty minutes, you slowly started to get more comfortable behind the wheel. Soonyoung was thankfully not overbearing as most instructors normally were, so you didn’t end up flinching every time he spoke.

He made light conversation to make you feel at ease, which you appreciated greatly. At first, you just nodded or hummed in response, as you were too afraid to do anything but stare at the road ahead, but you eventually steeled your nerves and replied with actual words. Soonyoung was a natural conversationalist, so you didn’t have to worry about your awkward pauses or stumbling over your words. He led the conversation, sharing random tidbits of his life that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone the first time you met them.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly normal until Soonyoung started queuing songs to play.

The problem wasn’t the music. The problem was that Soonyoung had stopped teaching you to drive, allowing you to fend for your life while he sat back and relaxed. You weren’t sure if normal people were able to loosen up so easily while being driven by a complete amateur.

Soonyoung must’ve been from a different planet, you decided. Some planet out there that deemed him the Lebron of driving.

“Uh,” you started, “aren’t you gonna tell me where to go?”

Soonyoung opened his mouth, as if he was going to ask what you meant, but then his demeanor completely shifted.

“Pull over to the curb,” he instructed, “now.”

“What?” Your pulse raced, and you were scared that you had fucked up somehow. You checked your mirrors to make sure you hadn’t cut anyone off or anything, but there was no one behind you. Swallowing thickly, you pulled over to the curb as best as you could and parked the car, shooting your driving instructor a nervous glance. “Did I do something wr—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Soonyoung whispered, silencing you with a wave of his hand. “This is the best part.”

Your jaw clenched as Olivia Rodrigo’s vocals were drowned out by Soonyoung’s off-key singing. This was why he wanted you to pull over?

“I knew we weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one!” he belted out. “C’mon, sing with me—oh, and I just can’t imagine how you could be so okay now that I’m gone!”

You folded your arms across your chest. With a reluctant sigh, you gave in and started singing along with Soonyoung.

You weren’t exactly ready for your driving test, but after two more lessons with Soonyoung, you felt more confident about being on the road. Sure, you almost ran over a pedestrian once and drove on the wrong side of the road the other day, but at least you were capable of handling a vehicle mostly by yourself.

There were times where you wondered if your driving lessons would be more productive with a proper instructor, not Soonyoung. He surely knew how to drive (save for when he went over the speed limit and only slowed down when he saw a cop car), but he was more focused on messing around instead of actually teaching you. You were pretty sure that he saved his proper instruction for high school students with parents, and you were just someone he liked to mess around with.

That didn’t stop you from scheduling another lesson with him, though. It was going to be another trip to the dispensary for you.

“How’re the driving lessons going?” Junhui asked, still nose-deep in his anatomy textbook.

The two of you were preparing for your upcoming midterms in a study room, but all you could think about was the little notification on your phone screen telling you that Soonyoung requested to follow you on Instagram. How long were you supposed to wait until you accepted his request? Would it be weird if you followed him back right away?

“I can’t parallel park, but I know all the lyrics to ‘Driver’s License’ by Olivia Rodrigo now,” you answered. “I’ve also been honked at thirteen times.”

You counted. Mostly because each honk kept you up at night, staring up at your popcorn ceiling, wondering why everyone (a driver who probably didn’t even remember your face) hated you.

“Ah,” Junhui mused, smiling a little to himself, “so it’s going well.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you mumbled. “But he’s nice. He doesn’t make me feel like crying. I think my dad would make me cry.”

Your phone buzzed while Junhui started going off on a tangent about how your dad was, indeed, a scary man. (There was an incident during parent’s weekend in freshman year where your father walked into your dorm room to see Junhui sitting on your bed. Completely misunderstanding the situation, your poor friend got lectured for almost an hour.) Soonyoung’s contact name flashed across your screen, and you were itching to read his text.

Once you and Junhui settled back into studying, you turned on your phone to check your messages.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i see you in the first floor study room soonyoung (driving instructor): come to the second floor study room for a good time

Terrifying. But you were intrigued.

After excusing yourself for a moment, making some lame excuse about needing to use the bathroom, you slipped out of your study room to head upstairs. You realized you had never actually seen Soonyoung on campus before, so a strange feeling of excitement consumed you, making your body feel light and your chest feel giddy.

Outside one of the study rooms, you heard echoes of laughter and conversation, which made you feel instantly nervous. You were invited, though, so you steeled your nerves and opened the door cautiously.

“Hi,” you greeted quietly, glancing over at the three strangers before your eyes landed on Soonyoung, who grinned once he saw you.

The four of them weren’t exactly studying. Two of them were fiddling with the flatscreen fixed to the wall, trying to connect a Nintendo Switch to it; one of them was sliding joy-cons into controllers; and Soonyoung, who had his legs kicked up on the table previously, was standing up to walk over to you.

“You came!” His tone made it seem like he was doubtful that you’d actually show up, so you were glad to prove him wrong. “Oh, yeah, this is Seungcheol and Mingyu”—he gestured toward the two who were setting up the TV, and then he pointed at the guy with the joy-cons—“and this is Seungkwan.”

“Hey,” the three of them chorused in broken unison.

“Wanna play Smash Bros with us?” Soonyoung asked. “Perchance.”

“You can’t just say ‘perchance,’ dude,” one of the guys setting up the TV said.

“I think it’s applicable, Mingyu,” the other guy said, whom you now deduced was Seungcheol. “Conceivably.”

“There’s no reason for either of you to use the words ‘perchance’ or ‘conceivably’ at all,” Seungkwan chimed in.

“Ignore them,” Soonyoung said, holding the door open wider for you before you even gave him an answer. “They’re just idiots.”

“You’re the biggest idiot here!” Seungcheol protested. He turned to you and explained, “He’s, like, the final boss idiot.”

Mingyu snickered. “Final idiot.”

You found yourself giggling a little, distracted by their banter as you walked inside the room and sat down in one of the empty chairs. Soonyoung slid into the one next to you, even though he was sitting next to Seungkwan earlier. You were glad that none of his friends made you feel like your presence was strange or unwelcome, but you still couldn’t help but feel awkward.

While Soonyoung was asking Seungcheol if he had finished connecting his Switch to the TV, you pulled out your phone to text Junhui.

y/n: i’m playing smash bros??? with soonyoung on the second floor y/n: wanna join?

jun: my anatomy midterm is in 3 days, 2 hours, and 26 minutes and all i know rn is that tissues are to wipe my tears after i fail this exam, negative feedback is all im getting back from my professor, and brain cells r what im deficient in

y/n: ok damn i’ll take that as a no

jun: i’ll be in here for the next 3 days whenever u decide to come back

y/n: it’ll take an hour tops y/n: pls don’t camp here for 3 whole days

“Jun’s not coming,” you announced.

You heard a chorus of groans.

Great. They were all Wen Junhui fanboys.

After Mingyu and Seungcheol finished setting up the Nintendo Switch, you watched Soonyoung and Seungkwan play the first match. Seungkwan chose Villager (which was sort of fitting for him, actually) and Soonyoung chose Donkey Kong. You honestly had no idea how Smash Bros worked, so you were completely lost while you watched their characters fly around and knock each other off the platform.

Soonyoung was screaming at one point, threatening Seungkwan with several promises to knock him out, which never happened. Seungkwan, taking a calmer approach, focused on using several commands while Soonyoung was already jumping out of his chair and on the floor. Mingyu and Seungcheol were on the sidelines, yelling out strategies for them at random and laughing occasionally.

The match ended with Seungkwan being victorious. Soonyoung had gotten so riled up during the game, but he took his defeat like a champ, congratulating his friend and laughing off his loss.

You were just amused at how quickly he switched up.

“You want a turn?” Soonyoung asked you, handing you his controller.

You hesitated. “Uh, I’m not really good at these kinds of games.”

“I’ll help you.”

You were up against Mingyu. He was a formidable opponent at first glance, but you hoped he wasn’t as competitive as the others. Maybe he would show you mercy because it was your first time playing.

You held the controller with stiffly-bent arms, holding it up like you were reading a map. Soonyoung didn’t laugh at you, to your relief, but he gently pushed your hands down and showed you what all of the controls were.

You chose the pink blob named Kirby. You weren’t a gamer by any means, so you had no idea what purpose the pink blob served other than being cute. No one judged you for your selection, though, which you assumed was a good sign.

“Don’t go easy on me,” you mumbled to Mingyu, who grinned in response.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Your heart raced when the countdown started. It felt like the longest three seconds of your life, and you were starting to regret choosing Kirby, who looked harmless in comparison to Mingyu’s character: Samus. You kept telling yourself that it was okay if you lost; you knew how to handle failure since you were pretty bad at virtually everything.

Soonyoung was cheering for your victory as soon as the match started. He was an absolute angel for doing so, but you were afraid you were going to disappoint him.

In Mingyu’s defense, you did tell him not to go easy on you. Unfortunately, the guy really wasn’t holding back at all. In the blink of an eye, you were already astral projecting off the screen.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

Maybe you should have swallowed down your pride and asked Mingyu to go easy on you.

Seungcheol playfully punched his friend’s shoulder. “C’mon, dude, it’s her first time.”

“Yeah, why’re you being a dick?” Seungkwan joined in, seeming more excited over having an excuse to target Mingyu than to actually defend you.

“She told me not to go easy on her!” he exclaimed, but no one allowed the poor boy to stand up for himself. With a pout, he turned to you and said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” You laughed. “I’m just bad at this.”

“Here, I’ll help you for the next round.” Soonyoung scooted closer to you until his knee brushed against yours. You couldn’t help but feel a little hot all of a sudden, but you made no effort to move away.

The next round started with you dropping from the revival platform. You felt like your brain went into autopilot. You just heard Soonyoung talking in your ear while his fingers kept brushing against yours, telling you which controls were best for fighting Samus. Everything was going in one ear and out the other; you were so flustered that you could hardly think straight.

You snapped back into reality when you heard three of them screaming, and you looked over with wide eyes to see Mingyu looking shell-shocked himself.

You won.

Soonyoung smiled. “See? You’re a natural.”

“No, it was all you,” you replied, shaking your head. It really was all thanks to Soonyoung because you had no idea what the hell you did. “It was probably just beginner’s luck.”

But, even so, a smile tugged at your lips, and you felt elated from your triumph. You thought back to Soonyoung’s hands brushing against yours, nearly swamping yours in comparison, and your chest felt a little warm.

A little too warm.

You put a pause on driving for a week and a half, informing Soonyoung that you had to focus on midterms before you could think about your driving lessons. Both caused you extreme distress, so you needed to cut one out temporarily.

Junhui really did camp out in the library for three entire days. You brought him food every day and forced him to go back to his apartment to take a shower. When you watched over his study room for him, Soonyoung would swing by and ask how you were doing.

Brief interactions, but they were nice.

You managed to get through your midterms without a single cry session in a bathroom stall. It was honestly a bigger success than your first Smash Bros win.

Soonyoung and you grew a little closer. Two weeks ago, if someone told you that you would be FaceTiming your driving instructor every night before bed, you wouldn’t believe them for a second. Mostly because you assumed you would get a driving instructor who was pushing retirement age, and video calling someone that old at night sounded a little concerning and borderline adulterous.

You learned a lot about him. His go-to breakfast or midnight snack was Frosted Flakes, and he felt a little empty inside if there wasn’t a box of the cereal in his cabinet. He was loud most of the time, but he often got shy or quiet in loud settings; it was highly dependent on the crowd he was with. His love language was sending you pictures of cute animals and saying it was you two. (You also didn’t like calling this a “love language” because that implied there was something deeper than platonic feelings, which you were too afraid to come to terms with.)

“You have to start driving again now that your midterms are over,” Soonyoung said over the phone one night. He was sulking while you were doing your skincare routine, keeping your phone propped up on your desk. “You’re gonna start forgetting what you learned, and then we’re gonna be back to square one.”

He was (slightly) high tonight and you were the first person he called.

You were pretty sure that had to mean something. Unfortunately, you were too guarded to connect the pieces that were laid out perfectly for you.

“You just miss me, huh?” you joked.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Nothing could have prepared you for that response.

You felt your cheeks burn, and you had to physically turn around to hide whatever expression was betraying you. You pretended to examine something behind you, but there was clearly nothing there, so you just looked like an idiot.

You didn’t know what you were feeling. There was a clear difference in your emotions when you spoke to Soonyoung versus when you spoke to his friends.

You didn’t want to compare Soonyoung to Junhui, who you knew since middle school, but you knew that you didn’t feel anything funny in your chest when you interacted with Seungcheol, Seungkwan, or Mingyu. They were great to be around, of course, but it was only Soonyoung who made you walk with a little skip in your step.

You hadn’t had a proper crush in years. Now, you felt like you were overthinking everything and analyzing every little interaction that could possibly be meaningless.

It had only been a few weeks, but you supposed there was no exact timeline for these sorts of things—whatever this thing was.

Whatever it was, though, you were in danger.

“Tomorrow, then,” you said once you regained a sliver of your composure. “Pick me up after your classes.”

“Sure.” He rested his chin in his palm, staring at you with an amused expression. “I’ll bring flowers.”

Possible Ways To Respond: 1. “You’re too sweet! Thank you.” 2. “Flowers? What’s the occasion?” 3. “Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, huh?”

You went with a secret fourth option.

“Please don’t. I’m allergic.”

True to his word, Soonyoung picked you up after his classes the next day.

You were pretty sure your lessons had gone over the regular quota, so you stopped by at the dispensary earlier to pick up another pod for Soonyoung. He didn’t look as though he was expecting anything when you got in the driver’s seat, though. In fact, he was perplexed when you handed him the paper bag.

“What’s this?” he asked, growing sheepish.

“Your payment,” you replied. “Also, I sort of lied about being allergic to flowers. I’m not allergic to flowers. I don’t know why I said that. I’m allergic to penicillin, though, but I don’t think that sounds remotely close to ‘flowers.’ Maybe I got confused? I don’t know.”

If this was an otome game, you had surely picked the bad relationship ending. Soonyoung’s face fell a little—just enough for you to notice—and you immediately felt guilt swallowing you whole. You meant for your words to sound lighthearted, but maybe they didn’t come across that way.

But, at the same time, you didn’t know where you stood. Wouldn’t it have been unfair to not repay Soonyoung for the lessons? Was it unreasonable that you weren’t actually expecting him to bring you flowers for no reason?

Soonyoung recovered quickly, though, his smiling eyes crinkling at the corners. “So I can bring you flowers.”

“Hypothetically, you could.”

“But you don’t have to pay me anymore.” He looked into the paper bag, examining the STIIZY pod before scoffing. “If I keep stocking up on these, people are gonna think I’m a stoner.”

“Well, I have to pay you for the lessons somehow,” you said. “So, if you don’t want the pods anymore, then I’ll have to start sending you money. I mean, what about gas?”

“You don’t have to worry about my gas tank.” He chuckled at your words and sat back to get comfortable. “What you should worry about is not hitting the curb.”

You flushed hotly. “Right.”

The first hour went smoothly. Soonyoung was impressed that you were gradually getting more and more comfortable behind the wheel, and he even congratulated you for changing lanes without muttering prayers under your breath. You were beginning to feel less overwhelmed with everything you were supposed to focus on, and you were certain that you were so close to everything clicking at once.

That was, until a car crashed right into you on a local road.

Thankfully, you and the other driver weren’t going too fast, but the force was sure to leave a dent in Soonyoung’s car. The collision wasn’t hard, by any means, but the impact jerked your body forward so that your mouth hit the steering wheel. The sting of pain radiated throughout your gums seconds later, and you winced and cradled your jaw.

You immediately bubbled with rage as you pulled over to the curb, knowing that you had the right of way and he was supposed to stop and wait for you to pass, but you were still stiff with shock. Soonyoung’s eyes were fierce, looking back at the driver as if he was about to cuss him out, but then he turned his attention to you.

Before you could feel immense, crushing guilt over crashing Soonyoung’s car, you whipped your head around to make sure he wasn’t hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised if he completely ghosted you after this. You were probably the worst student he had ever come across, which was saying a lot considering most of his students were high school teenagers.

“Y/N, are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked, sounding as frantic as his hands were. You felt his palm against your cheek and his other hand atop your head, making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere.

“Are you okay?” you blurted out. Your breathing was erratic, and you hardly registered the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. “Oh god. Your car. Oh god, I—”

“It’s okay, Y/N, it’s not your fault,” he said. “You had the right of—”

When he turned to look at you again, he just stared, eyes wide and jaw hanging open—almost comically. It almost looked like he was more bewildered by you than the fact that his car was rammed into by another car.

He was wordless for far too long that you had to ask, “Everything okay?”

Maybe that was a stupid question. Clearly, everything wasn’t okay, and it had everything to do with the fact that you two had gotten into a car crash.

“I think you loth a tooth,” he lisped—a seemingly joking remark, but his expression was dead serious.

For a split second, a laugh bubbled up in your mouth. You thought Soonyoung must have been messing with you, but it was ridiculous that he could joke around in such a situation. It was when you touched your lip and pulled your hand back to see blood, though, that cold reality washed over you.

Your eyes went wide as saucers as you turned to examine your teeth in the rear-view mirror.

The worst possible thing that could happen to a woman was happening to you right now.

Your front left tooth was gone.

“I-it’s not that bad,” Soonyoung tried, although he sounded unconvinced himself. “It’s cute! It’s like, uh, that dragon—from, uh… How to Train Your Dragon.”

Your eyes were burning and your throat was closing up, but tonguing the bloodied gap between your teeth sent you over the edge. You had tears streaming down your cheeks and you were gripping the wheel so hard that your knuckles turned pale.

“Toothleth?” you cried, which led to a few choked sobs when you realized that you had a lisp now. Then, you were full-on crying into your hands because sure, you could get over being the reason why Soonyoung’s car had a dent in it, but you were pretty sure there was no replacing a missing tooth. The more you cried, though, the worse you felt as you tasted the blood and heard the faint whistles coming from the gap in your teeth. “I’m tho thupid!”

Soonyoung was clearly short-circuiting, but you could tell he was desperate to calm you down by the way he was rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Y/N, you’re not stupid. It's okay, we just—”

“Thoonyoung!”

Soonyoung slapped his hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter. He was trying to take you seriously, but the little bursts of laughter that bubbled up in his throat were betraying him.

You swallowed down your sob and continued, “Ith not okay! I loth my tooth!”

“Okay, no more talking,” he ordered. “I know you’re very hurt right now, but you’re gonna feel even worse if I start laughing at your lisp, so don’t make this harder for me.”

You scowled at him, but you kept your mouth shut because Soonyoung was right; you were not in the proper headspace to be laughed at right now.

“Okay, I’m gonna go outside and talk to the driver who ran into us,” he explained slowly. “I want you to calm your breathing and find your missing tooth. We can drive to the dentist right after, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded, craning your neck to watch Soonyoung get out of the car to talk to the driver. Then, you sucked in a sharp breath and examined the floor to find your loose tooth. Lo and behold, it was laying next to the gas pedal. You cringed as you picked it up, frowning at how bloody it was in your palm. There were a few napkins in Soonyoung’s glove compartment, so you wrapped your tooth in one and kept it in your pocket.

You heard some yelling from the other driver—something about having kids in the back and how you were going way too fast—and it all just made you feel worse. You felt horrible that Soonyoung had to deal with the repercussions, and after they exchanged insurances and the guy drove off, you got out of the car to see the damage.

Surely enough, there was a decent-sized dent in the side of his car. It was right where the back door opened, and you burst into tears at the sight of it. Soonyoung wouldn’t have to deal with all of this if he wasn’t teaching you to drive.

Still, he wrapped his arms around your shaking body and pulled you in close. He rested his chin on top of your head and sighed.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “The insurance will cover the damage. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“What about my tooth?”

“Okay, maybe there’s one thing to worry about.”

You leaned into his touch when you felt his hand carding through your hair. His motions were slow and gentle, as if he was trying hard to make sure you didn’t notice the gesture. You did, though, and you appreciated it.

You started, “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he interrupted. You thought he was going to say something cheesy about how you had nothing to apologize for, but he continued, “You’re gonna say thorry, and I’m not gonna be able to take you seriously.”

With your face buried in his chest, you reached your hand out to punch his shoulder.

Still, despite his snarky comment and the emotional distress you were experiencing over your missing tooth, a big smile crossed your face and his embrace left a warm, fluttery feeling in your stomach.

Your heart was beating so fast that you almost thought it would stop.

“Ew,” was Wen Junhui’s first reaction upon seeing your swollen lip. You could only see the top half of his face over FaceTime, but you were sure he had a look of disgust on. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you replied dryly, holding an ice pack to your cheek.

Before Soonyoung drove you to a dentist, he scolded you for leaving your tooth wrapped up in a tissue. Apparently, your tooth was going to be fucked if it dried up, so his solution was to leave it in his half-empty water bottle that was left sitting in his car. You weren’t quite sure about this, but the dentist informed you that Soonyoung saved your front tooth.

If he was with you in the room, you probably could’ve kissed him then and there—bloody mouth and all.

Thankfully, since you didn’t fracture or break any part of the tooth, the dentists were able to replant it into your gums without any complications. They told you it was a good thing you went straight to the dentist instead of waiting. Your front tooth would’ve been a lost cause if you waited another hour.

It was really all thanks to Soonyoung.

The procedure was quick and you were told that your avulsed tooth would be back to normal in about a week. The news filled you with relief because you were so sure you were going to be toothless for the rest of your life.

Not that it was a bad thing. While Soonyoung was driving you to the dentist prior to the replantation, you had come to terms with the fact that you would be missing a front tooth for the rest of your life. You would grow old and tell your children the harrowing tale of how you got your driver’s license and sacrificed your front tooth for it.

It couldn’t be all that horrible. Maybe you would grow an affinity for whistling.

Thankfully, that was all just your overthinking and your tooth was probably fine now. In seven days, everything was supposed to go back to normal, so you had your fingers crossed for a full recovery.

“Of course that would happen to you.” Junhui laughed at your misery. “Shit like this only happens to you.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m the pinnacle of terrible luck.”

“So, what happened after? Did you make out with Soonyoung or something?”

“No!” you exclaimed. Your cheeks started to burn just at the thought. “How do you expect me to make out with someone when I look like this? Soonyoung drove me home like a gentleman. He’s not into me like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing him for a while, anyway. I don’t wanna start driving again until my tooth is fine.”

“Then maybe you can go on a different kind of ride with him instead.”

“You need to stop.”

You didn’t see Soonyoung much over the next week. He told you that he had a few papers to finish before his schedule would clear up, so you were only able to text him occasionally and see him in passing, exchanging a greeting before one of you had to go.

You saw his friends a lot, though. They were always in the study room next to the one you and Junhui liked to use, so you would stop by their room often to see what they were up to. They were usually either messing around or using the whiteboard for everything but its intended purpose, so you enjoyed taking study breaks with them. Junhui was the type to not take breaks because he was locked in on his work once he got in the zone, so Soonyoung’s friends were a breath of fresh air.

Your Current Opinions on Soonyoung’s Friends:

Mingyu: Kind. Approached you whenever he saw you. Pleasant conversations. Swiped up on your Snapchat stories sometimes. Was unfortunately the only person you forgot to block from your story once when you posted a semi-thirst trap just for Soonyoung’s eyes.

Seungcheol: Friendly whenever he talked to you. A little awkward because you once saw him taking selfies at the gym instead of working out.

Seungkwan: Not super buddy-buddy but sweet enough. Liked making fun of Soonyoung with you. He brought you McDonald’s once and you imagined a future with him momentarily.

Word also got around that your front tooth had been knocked out clean. Seungcheol let it slip when he accidentally referred to you as ‘Toothless’ the other day. You made a mental note to kill Soonyoung later.

The next time you ran into your driving instructor on campus was outside one of your lecture halls. You walked out in the middle of class to fill up your hydroflask. It was especially hot today, and you were seconds away from heat exhaustion. Soonyoung’s brows lifted in pleasant surprise once he saw you, and he missed his elevator to walk up to you.

“Whoa.” You paused for a moment, unblinking. “I keep forgetting you go here.”

“I’m the hall monitor.”

“This is college. We don’t have hall monitors.”

“Self-elected,” was his response. “Speaking of, I don’t see your bathroom pass.”

“I’m not going to the bathroom. I’m filling up my water. Anyway, why would I—”

“Just this once, I’ll let you off with a warning,” he interjected, pulling out a card from the pocket of his jeans. He handed it to you, and you accepted it after a moment of hesitation. “There’s your bathroom pass. Don’t let me catch you loitering around here again.”

With that, Soonyoung walked off, leaving you utterly confused.

You flipped the business card around to see his name and number printed neatly in the middle, and you frowned in response. There was some other fine text on the back, but you didn’t take the time to read it properly as you were still baffled.

“I already have your number!” you called after him, but you just heard your driving instructor laugh to himself in response as he disappeared behind the elevator doors.

Later, after your classes ended, you went back to your study room with Junhui. He had been in the library since morning, deciding to skip his classes to prepare for his second round of midterms that he still had a few weeks for.

You told him about your encounter with Soonyoung, noting how strange it was that he casually had business cards on hand. Junhui asked to see the card, so you handed it over to him.

Upon closer inspection, Junhui raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Hall monitor rizz.”

“How was that rizz? He told me it was a bathroom pass and left.”

“Well, I’d consider it rizz since he’s asking you out on a date.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “You think he’s asking me out on a date?”

“No, I know he’s asking you out on a date.” Junhui flipped Soonyoung’s business card around to show you the fine print: Schedule our first date with the number provided on the other side of this card. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Says it right here. He’s just shy, Y/N.”

“Shy? Him? He doesn’t look like the shy type.”

“He’s shy,” he affirmed, “around you, at least. I mean, you’d get shy around the person you liked, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess, but…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “No, this is normal, right? Dates are normal. We’re just two normal adults going on a normal date. Nothing weird about that, right? I shouldn’t feel so weird about this. Do I sound weird? Am I weird?”

You didn’t realize you had gotten up and started pacing until you turned to see Junhui looking at you with concern hanging in his brows. You sucked in a sharp breath and sank back into your seat, burying your face in your hands.

“I’m in way over my head,” you mumbled.

“You’re nervous ‘cause you have a crush on him,” he replied. “Nothing weird about that.”

“I have a crush on him,” you echoed, more so to yourself than to Junhui.

Although you were partly in denial, still tossing and turning the prospect of crushing on Soonyoung around in your head, Junhui took your words as confirmation. He hummed knowingly and turned back to his textbook, leaving you to ruminate for the next thirty minutes in silence before you excused yourself.

You were currently speed walking to your usual bus stop, hoping you would be able to stop thinking about Soonyoung and the business card tucked into your pocket. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of you developing a tiny crush on him.

You hadn’t had a proper crush in ages. The last time you had strong feelings for someone was in high school, which promptly ended following your first date—after an eight month talking stage. You proposed going to the fair, which seemed fine until you threw up on the ferris wheel and received an ‘I don’t think this is going to work out’ text later that night.

And why were you so flustered over this, anyway? After all, you had been anticipating the day Soonyoung would make the first move. Plus, you were an adult; overthinking your feelings like this was so high school.

Whatever. You had nothing to lose.

You pulled out your phone to text Soonyoung, a small smile crossing your face once you caught sight of his profile picture again. It was a picture of him with all his hair flying every which way in the wind and his mouth open to yell some profanity.

y/n: date. y/n: this week any day

soonyoung (driving instructor): WHOA!!!!!!

y/n: what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day

soonyoung (driving instructor): tomorrow night

y/n: okay

soonyoung (driving instructor): okay

y/n: okay.

soonyoung (driving instructor): okay. soonyoung (driving instructor): can’t wait

y/n: me neither

soonyoung (driving instructor): pick you up at 8

y/n: i’ll be ready

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’ll be even more ready

Your heart didn’t stop pounding for the rest of the day.

To be a woman was to perform.

You were currently performing an illegal U-turn.

Soonyoung held onto the ‘oh shit’ handle fixed to the ceiling, his face contorted in absolute fear as he repeated, “Wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane—”

“Sorry!” you exclaimed, swerving back into your correct lane after checking your mirrors. You swallowed thickly before saying, “I’ve got it under control now, I think.”

Of course, you had been nervous the entire day and a half leading up to your date with Soonyoung, but how you felt right now had completely reigned over every emotion you were feeling before.

Throughout the day, you had butterflies in your stomach and a little skip to your step, but now you were terrified of things you had never even worried about before. The reason you took a U-turn in the first place was because Soonyoung told you that you missed the parking lot entrance, causing you to panic in the middle of the road (which, on your part, was not very smart.)

In short, Soonyoung should not have let you take the wheel, and you should not have gotten this worked up over him planning to take you to the local fair.

What were the odds that you were back in the place where you had an awful last date? You could almost feel the bile rising up your throat.

Soonyoung’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched when he asked, “A-are you sure you’re ready to schedule that driving test?”

“Yes! I’m ready,” you said, “but, to make things clear, my driving today is not representative of my driving any other day.”

Somehow, you and Soonyoung wound up making it to the fairgrounds’ parking lot in one piece. You deflated upon hearing the sigh of relief escape Soonyoung’s lips once the car was in park, but it was well deserved. You were surprised he even let you drive in the first place.

The fairgrounds were packed with people—mostly students—so there were several couples going around with their fingers interlocked. You were now hyper-aware of your fingertips, wondering if you’d get the chance to brush them against Soonyoung’s and slowly slide your hand into his.

He ended up paying for your ticket, and you didn’t have much room to argue about it because the employee was already taking his card before you even noticed. You told Soonyoung you would pay for something else—food, rides, raffle tickets—but he ended up covering everything for you. Of course, you were sure Junhui would have scolded you because turning down a guy paying for you was apparently equivalent to turning down the guy himself. So, you swallowed your pride and let Soonyoung take the lead.

You went on a few rides with Soonyoung, shared a churro, and you took a picture in front of the ferris wheel. You were having a great time, actually, and almost all of your nerves had all but melted away. All that was left to deem this a perfect date was to actually ride the ferris wheel, which was exactly what you were absolutely terrified of.

“Not good with heights?” Soonyoung asked as you two were getting into the seat, pulling down the lap bar for you two.

You wondered if you looked as ghastly as you felt. “Not so much.”

You weren’t good with a lot of things, to be fair.

Smooth talker Soonyoung took that as his opportunity to slip his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together with a shy smile on his face. “You can close your eyes if it gets scary, or just keep looking at me.”

Honestly, that sounded scarier than the possibility of plummeting to your death from the top of the ferris wheel. You weren’t sure your heart could handle staring at Soonyoung, especially with how flustered his gaze made you feel.

“Hey, could I ask you something?” you asked, nearly shying away when Soonyoung fixed his gaze on you. “When did you start liking me? I mean, I had no idea.”

“Uh…” The ride started moving backward as Soonyoung hummed in thought. “Probably that first time you were in my car?”

Your eyes went wide. “You mean our very first lesson?”

“Yeah, I thought you were cute—a little weird, but cute.” He grinned. “I think it was when you fell asleep over FaceTime that one night when I started catching feelings.”

Your cheeks burned. You weren’t sure if you could pinpoint a specific moment like he did; you just remembered your heart started beating faster when you saw him one day, and the rest was history. It was almost incredible how blindsided you were by his feelings, even though he had integrated himself into your daily life so naturally.

“And then you posted that one picture on your story once,” he continued, voice growing shy once he realized what he admitted out loud, “and that was when I knew I was really in too deep.”

You blanched with embarrassment. He must have been talking about the thirst trap because that was the only time you ever posted yourself so confidently. How were you going to explain that you blocked everyone else from your Snapchat story just for him to see that?

A nervous laugh bubbled from your lips. “About that—”

Before you could get any other words out, though, you became painfully aware of your surroundings. Your seat started swinging with the strong winds, and you realized that you were at the very top. If you leaned over enough, you were pretty sure your seat would tip over and drop you and Soonyoung right out. The very thought paralyzed you to the core.

Just as Soonyoung was in the middle of asking if you were okay, the ferris wheel started moving faster, and you yelped and clung onto him as you two went down. You were fine with the slow pace with breaks in between, but now that you were moving at full speed in one go, it was downright terrifying.

Soonyoung seemed to find it hilarious, though. He laughed and wrapped an arm around you while you were the very picture of fear. You buried your face into his chest and dug your nails in so hard that you were afraid he would feel them through his sweater.

Finally, it came to a stop. The ride operator started letting people out one seat at a time, but you and Soonyoung had ended up at the very top again. You raised your head to sit upright again, letting out an exasperated breath, but Soonyoung drew you closer. He was still laughing, and it made you blush uncontrollably.

“Just so you know, I’m good with any other ride!” you tried to defend yourself. “Well, actually, save for roller coasters and drop towers… oh, and—”

“Y/N,” Soonyoung cut you off with a smile, his voice hardly a murmur. Before, you could barely hear him over the excited cries and shouts in the fair, but now your attention had zeroed in on him. You felt disoriented as he placed his warm hand on your cheek, tilting his head and leaning in. “C’mere.”

You were too shy to admit it, but you had fantasized about making out with Soonyoung before. Of course, you never knew what type of kisser he was, so you just settled for whatever fantasy played out in your head.

Now, though, with his lips pressed against yours, you felt something hot and needy stir up inside you as he tugged you impossibly close to his body. Your stomach fluttered when you let slip a whimper, which Soonyoung didn’t let go unnoticed. He pulled back for a moment, his gaze darkening, promising to return to that later, and he returned to kissing you.

When you were almost near the ground, you and Soonyoung pulled away. There were definitely far too many children and parents around for you two to be kissing like that, but now you were anticipating how things would be once you two were alone.

“You two have fun?” the ride operator, who appeared to be an older teenager, asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

All you could do was nod and duck your head in embarrassment while Soonyoung beamed brighter than the flashing lights.

You spent some more time with Soonyoung on a few more (tamer) rides before you two decided to call it a day. Your feet were getting sore, so he courteously offered to drive the both of you home. However, you had an itching feeling that he just didn’t want you behind the wheel again.

“Wanna get something to eat?” he asked once you both were inside the car, and he turned his head around as he reversed. “There’s a good froyo place down the street.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you agreed quickly. Deep down, you were hoping this date wouldn’t end just yet.

Soonyoung played Olivia Rodrigo’s new album as he drove, rolling the window down so that the wind tousled his hair. You thought he looked cute that way, and you had to keep your hand under your thigh to keep it from reaching over and running it through his locks.

When he parked in front of the froyo place, it appeared completely dark inside. It was also evidently clear that the only cars parked in the lot were the overflow crowd of people from the fair who couldn’t get a parking spot at the fairgrounds.

“Did we miss it?” He frowned, pausing to look up the store hours on his iPhone. “Man. I didn’t want our date to end like this.”

“I don’t want it to end, either.”

Soonyoung looked over at you, studying your expression carefully before asking, “Do you wanna chill in the back for a while, then?”

You knew what that meant. And you had specifically worn your matching lingerie set just for this moment.

You unlatched your seatbelt, and Soonyoung followed suit right after. “Yeah, I’m down.”

“Wait, there’s something I need to do first,” Soonyoung said in a soft voice, looking down at you with gentle eyes.

For a moment, your heart jumped to your throat. The way he was looking at you sent butterflies to your stomach, and you couldn’t even imagine what he was going to do next. Something about his tone was so sincere that you were sure he was going to kiss you, especially when he started leaning down.

You let your eyes flutter shut, waiting for his soft lips to meet yours. Your heartbeat felt like a drum in your ears.

But nothing happened. No kiss. Nothing.

You opened your eyes to see what Soonyoung was doing. When you saw him hunched over, fiddling with something near his ankles, your face deadpanned—not a flicker of amusement.

Soonyoung had put his Crocs in sports mode.

First of all, wearing Crocs on the first date was absurd.

Second of all, putting your Crocs in sports mode on the first date was absolutely preposterous.

Yet, it was the perfect thing Soonyoung had done to put your nerves completely at ease. You ended up bursting into laughter at the very sight, making his head shoot up while his eyebrows were drawn together, perplexed. However, he happened to hit his head on the steering wheel as he did so, which only made you laugh even harder.

Your sudden surge of confidence spurred you to crawl over the gear stick and straddle his lap. Shocked, Soonyoung gripped your thighs and straightened up. Before his lip could curl up in amusement, you wrapped your arms around his neck and slotted your lips with his.

He broke for air for a moment, breathing out, “Well, hi.”

“Hi.” Your nose gently bumped against his. “Having second thoughts?”

“No!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. “I just didn’t wanna start anything because I wasn’t sure if you were ready.” He threw a glance over his shoulder before looking out the window. “Plus, this place isn’t exactly private.”

You looked out the window while Soonyoung’s warm hands returned to your thighs. It was true that there were empty cars around, but there weren’t any people in sight. It was still early in the night, so you were sure people would stay at the fairgrounds until midnight.

“Hey,” Soonyoung started again, “what was that you were gonna say on the ferris wheel? Before we, uh, made out.”

“Oh.” Shame bubbled in your chest when you realized what he was talking about. “Nothing important.”

“Tell me.”

Moonlight shone in from the window, illuminating the side of Soonyoung’s face and his neck, showing off his prominent collarbones. His low voice reached your core in a way you had never experienced before. You flushed with embarrassment because you were certain Soonyoung could feel how you clenched.

You looked out the window, as if you could mentally escape through it. Find a way to get out of the situation you were in.

“Fine.” He huffed lightly before placing a hand behind your neck and drawing you closer. “I’ll just get it out of you, then.”

Notably flustered, you gasped when Soonyoung’s lips latched onto the side of your neck, biting and sucking the tender skin. You croaked out some lame lie about forgetting what you were trying to say, but Soonyoung persisted. He ravaged the column of your neck like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You scooted up on his lap, sitting right on top of his growing bulge, which roused a throaty groan from him. You could feel Soonyoung twitch under you, and it was all that was needed for you to start grinding your hips slowly on his lap. And then he started guiding your hips down onto him. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers dig into the grooves of your hips to take control of your motions.

“Tell me,” he beseeched, and you shivered when you could feel his smile against your jawline.

You let out a whine. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, distracted as he looked up at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. His hands never left your hips as he watched you grind down on his lap. Soonyoung’s eyes were unfocused for a moment before clarity bled back into him. “It was about the Snapchat story, right? That one picture you posted.”

“I don’t remember what that was,” you attempted to lie smoothly, but you were pretty sure your expression betrayed you once Soonyoung slid a hand under your shirt to cup your chest.

“Yeah, you do. The one where you were wearing those thigh-high stockings.” You saw a flash of darkness in his eyes. “Can’t believe everyone got to see you like that.”

“I wouldn’t say everyone,” you muttered.

“Hm?”

His thumb, after his hand managed to creep under your bra, found purchase on your nipple, rolling and circling around the supple flesh as he pleased. You only managed to let out a cry before Soonyoung was pressing you further, ordering you to answer him before he made you fall apart.

You were so caught up in your own pleasure, practically chest-to-chest with Soonyoung, that you hardly noticed the knock on the window until Soonyoung jolted upright and straightened his back.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, voice still thick with lust that was ebbing away. Thankfully, you both were still mostly clothed, but Soonyoung had his pants nearly down and you had your shirt riding up past your waist.

The officer stopped knocking to give Soonyoung the opportunity to roll the window down after he was decent. It was evidently an uncomfortable situation for both parties. You turned your head to the side, screwing your eyes shut and hoping you would blink out of existence if you tried hard enough. You never thought you would have a cop at your window before even getting your license.

“Hi,” he greeted sheepishly once the window was down. “Sorry, we’ll get going now.”

“Yeah, uh…” The officer trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a long-winded sigh. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but keep it in the bedroom, please.”

“Thanks…” Soonyoung trailed off, looking for some sort of identification tag.

“Officer Hong,” he answered flatly.

“Thanks, Officer Hong.”

“Don’t let me catch you two again.”

“Oh, probably not me, but once she gets her license then it’s over for—ow!” Soonyoung yelped when you pinched him in the side, effectively shutting him up. He immediately apologized, “Sorry, Officer Hong, it won’t happen again.”

The encounter with the police officer was awkward, yes, but somehow, Soonyoung was unfazed once you two had gotten off with the warning. He coolly looked up at you and asked if he could come over to your place tonight. You agreed, of course.

The drive home was perfectly fine. Soonyoung made sure you weren’t too startled by the officer and asked how you liked the fair. You thought it was all pleasant conversation that would continue once you were in your living room, but Soonyoung pinned you up against your front door as soon as you were inside.

His strong arms caged you in his hold, and you could only helplessly look up at him and warble out some pathetic question, asking if he wanted water or snacks. He turned the offer down, obviously.

Since you two had already gotten this far, you figured you might as well let Soonyoung in on your little secret. Although it was slightly humiliating to admit, you realized tonight that far more embarrassing things had happened to you.

“You really wanna know, don’t you?” When he nodded in response, you sighed and explained, “What I posted on my story… I blocked everyone else so that only you’d see it.”

Well, him and Mingyu, but the latter was purely accidental.

Hearing your words flipped a switch in Soonyoung and he completely froze up, as if he had stopped functioning altogether.

“Well, technically, you and Mingyu,” you rambled on, “but that’s only because I forgot to block him from my story. You know, I have, like, two hundred people on Snapchat, so I figured I’d accidentally skip over someone, anyway. But I don’t think he even paid any attention to it. I feel like he’d—”

He cut you off by sealing his lips over yours, and all the noise in your head simmered down. All the fluff filling up your brain billowed and sank back down. You remembered when you were a middle schooler, giggling and replaying the scenes in movies that were exactly like this. Now that you were actually living in it, though, you couldn’t get enough of Soonyoung.

He broke away for a breather, lips hanging barely an inch from yours and your foreheads touching. His heavily-lidded eyes found yours, gazing at you longingly through his lashes.

“No offense,” he started with a smirk, “but I don’t really care about Mingyu right now.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you shut it as soon as you realized that you had nothing intelligent to contribute. You recognized that most of your mindless ramblings probably killed the mood—for you, at least.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the side of your neck. As he moved down to your chest, Soonyoung’s kisses grew sloppier and open-mouthed. He tugged at your shirt, and you helped him remove it with ease, snapping your bra off in the process and letting it fall to the floor. His hungry gaze upon seeing you bare before him made you ache for more. Soonyoung let out a groan and let his tongue drag over your nipple, circling and flicking around the sensitive skin until you were moaning shamelessly.

With his head ducked so that his lips could ravage your chest, Soonyoung bent down just a little bit more to wrap his arms around your thighs. He scooped you up in his arms swiftly, making you yelp, and he walked you to your bedroom after you whispered where your room was. He was so strong that you hardly had to hold onto him, but his strength was a double-edged sword because he had you pinned down on your bed in seconds.

A grin crossed Soonyoung’s face as his lips returned to your chest. This time, his lips made their way down your body, to your stomach. You curled your hand in his hair, tugged hard because you wanted more, but Soonyoung was relentless with his teasing. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you squirm under him and ache for more. They were slow and torturous, and you only grew more needy as he made his way down.

“Can I take these off?” he asked, fingers slipping into the waistband of your pants.

“Only if you take your clothes off, too.”

You heard him chuckle before you felt cold air starting to hit your bare skin. Soonyoung unzipped your pants and tugged them down your legs until they were bunched up at your ankles, which you struggled to kick off until he bent down to move the fabric off your heel. You shuddered when he snapped the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers at the sides and twisting the fabric. He sure was enjoying toying with you, and you weren’t sure you could handle any more teasing. After what felt like forever, Soonyoung pulled the last of your undergarments down and marveled at your bare body.

“You’re unbelievable,” he all but growled, running his hands down your sides, to your hips, and past your thighs. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

You sat up, looking up at him with a pout, which only seemed to drive Soonyoung to the brink of madness.

“You’re still clothed,” you observed.

“Yes.”

“Take it off.” You folded your arms across your chest. “I can’t be the only one naked.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he replied with a laugh. You supposed he could see your expression falter, nearly letting some pathetic sound fall from your lips, so Soonyoung cooed at you and ran his thumb over your lower lip. “Oh, you like that? Like it when I call you princess?”

You did like it. You liked it too much for your own good, and it was almost humiliating.

Soonyoung towered over you as he peeled off his shirt, grabbing it from the nape of his neck and slipping it off in seconds. Your eyes ran over his beautiful expanse of skin, from every defined muscle in his abdomen to the little goosebumps that pricked his arms. You reached out to run your fingers down his abs, letting them trace each groove and dip in muscle. Soonyoung shivered at your very touch, but he allowed you to make your way down to undo his belt and pants.

Your fingers were fumbling, but you managed to remove the latch after several failed attempts. He guided you with his steadier hands, but you were determined to do it yourself. Finally, you pulled his belt free and pushed his pants down his legs.

He seemed to be slightly embarrassed, but Soonyoung was already rock hard. His cock sprang up so that the tip pushed past the waistband of his boxers.

“Don’t worry about that,” he grumbled, sinking to his knees and placing his hands on your thighs. “I’ll take care of you first.”

He grabbed your knees and pushed them apart, staring at your soaked cunt like it was everything he ever wanted. Soft kisses peppered the inside of your thighs, working up to the apex of your legs. You felt the cold air hit your core and shivered, but then it was hot all over again once Soonyoung licked one long, slow stripe that made you writhe and cry out in bliss. He had to press your hips down to keep you from moving too much.

But his movements were so slow and torturous. You were going insane by how much Soonyoung was teasing you with his kitten licks and lazy drags of tongue. Tears welled up in your eyes by the time you had been edged away from another impending orgasm, with him letting his dissolve as soon as the heat bloomed under your skin.

Kissing your cunt. Plunging his tongue into your core. Licking at your walls until they trembled and shook with the warning of release. You were agonized by how good Soonyoung was making you feel.

“Please,” you begged, your voice breathless as your body felt lightweight, “let me cum, please.”

“Hm.” He seemed to consider it for a moment before saying, “Tell me three things you like about me, and I’ll let you cum.”

You laughed, but it died on your tongue as soon as you realized there was no amusement on his face.

“You’re kidding, right?” You swallowed hard, knowing you had your answer already. “Oh, you’re not kidding.”

He was making you work for your orgasm. This was mortifying; you never expected Soonyoung to be so cruel, and you never expected it to be so hot.

“Three things, baby,” he said. “Start with number one.”

“One,” you started, your voice shaky as Soonyoung returned to snaking his tongue past your folds, “I like how you treat me so well and look after me, like—oh, right there—yeah, like that.”

“Two,” you continued, more so in a whimper because Soonyoung was skillfully using his tongue to reach places you never thought to stimulate before. “I, ah—I like the way you look at me and when you tell me I’m beautiful.” You sucked in your teeth when you felt him press his tongue flat against your clit. “Soonyoung, please.”

“One more,” he murmured.

“T-three,” you breathed out, and by this point, your legs were already shaking. Your brain was turning to mush and you couldn’t help but clench at Soonyoung lapping at your soaked cunt. The tremor in your voice was unmistakable when you admitted, “I love how you’re so much better at this than I ever could’ve imagined.”

He breathed out a laugh against your cunt. “Am I really?” He tightened his grip on your hips to suck on your clit, making your back arch and your chest feel light. “You think about me that often, princess?”

“Mmhm,” you confirmed with your eyes screwed shut. “Thought about you whenever I was—”

“Don’t finish that,” he warned, though it almost sounded like he was pleading with you, “or I’ll go crazy.”

Your nerves felt like they had tangled themselves into several knots that kept tightening in your stomach. You shuddered and moaned with each motion of Soonyoung’s tongue that brought you closer to your release. He was merciless with the way he dipped his tongue in your core, rubbing your clit with his thumb in slow circles.

Your walls tightened one last time before you were finally blinded by your white-hot orgasm, and you hardly even realized that hot tears were streaming down your cheeks. Soonyoung was eating you out unabated, not even giving you a break between each wave of pleasure that hit you. After your climax subsided and coherency gradually bled back into you, Soonyoung finally pulled back and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You grabbed his arm before he could say anything. Soonyoung looked you in the eyes for a moment, alarmed, but the worry knitting his brows together melted away once you pulled him down for a proper kiss.

With your arms wrapped around his neck and his knee between your legs, Soonyoung eventually found himself lowering his body until your chests were pressed together. He kept himself up by his elbows and pulled away to look at you. He brushed your hair out of your face and leaned in for another kiss.

As you two became a tangled mess of limbs, wrapped up in each other and far too occupied to care about anything but making out, you moved your hand down Soonyoung’s abs to wrap your hand around his cock. He groaned against your lips and rocked his hips against your touch.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with lust. After reaching back to tug his boxers down, freeing his cock from the restricting fabric, Soonyoung looked down at you with desire glazing over his eyes. “May I?”

“Please do,” you answered.

You cried out when he started rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt, teasing your folds like he did before. You were aching already despite your previous orgasm, and you thought you were going to die on the spot from how needy you were.

“Turn onto your stomach,” he ordered. You were confused for a moment, but you ended up being manhandled by Soonyoung, anyway. He flipped you over and positioned himself at your entrance, keeping one hand on the back of your neck. “Good girl.”

The side of your face was pressed into the sheets, and your hands were desperately reaching for anything that gave you proper leverage. You ended up grabbing onto the pillows just as Soonyoung started pushing his cock inside you. You swallowed down the gasp that dared threaten to escape, and Soonyoung pressed kisses to your face and made sure you weren’t crying from how big he was.

With more filth and praises whispered into your ear, you were clenching and unclenching around him, making Soonyoung groan whenever he felt you tighten. It took a while for him to ease his way into you, but once Soonyoung had finally nestled inside of you, it was as if a switch flipped in him.

He was thrusting as soon as you gave him the green light. You were blindsided by how intense he was, hardly having any control over your own body as you held onto the sheets for dear life. Soonyoung held your hips with a bruising grip as he fucked into you.

Hot.

Everything felt hot and sticky. Your sweat-matted hair clung to the back of your neck, and you felt like your sheets were uncomfortably damp. Despite it all, though, you couldn’t get enough. You needed more, wanted more. Soonyoung was relentless, even when your box springs creaked and the frame rattled against the wall.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck. You’re taking me so well.”

Still overly-sensitive from your previous orgasm, it didn’t take long for you to reach your limit a second time. Soonyoung pounded into you with fervor, and even he was quickly falling apart.

“That’s it,” he got out, teeth gritted. “That’s my girl.”

You pulled him down for a deep kiss, muffling both of your moans once you were clenching uncontrollably around him. You were falling from your peak and Soonyoung fucked you through your orgasm, even though he was on the verge of one himself.

He pulled out right before he was about to cum, and you could only hear his groans before you realized he had gotten off, too. For a moment, you thought Soonyoung abandoned you on the bed. His voice sounded distant all of a sudden, and you were too tuckered out to move.

Then, he returned with a towel and several tissues for you. You turned onto your back again to make out his silhouette entering the room and taking a seat next to you. Your eyes were shut as Soonyoung cleaned you up, and you only opened them once he pushed your hair back and kissed your cheek.

“Wanna go again?” he asked with a grin. You were impressed by how quickly he was able to recover. You, on the other hand, needed a few minutes to recuperate. “The night’s still young.”

“Yeah, sure, if you use a condom this time,” you breathed out, turning over onto your side. “Just give me five.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your chest rise and fall until its rhythm steadied. Your breathing was even again, but when you opened your eyes, you saw neon green glowing in the middle of the room.

“Soonyoung.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. You were not getting dicked down by manga censorship. “Why is your dick glowing?”

“I prefer glow-in-the-dark condoms.”

Typically, when two individuals had feelings for each other, it would often bloom into a relationship.

It was quite clear that you had feelings for Soonyoung and he had feelings for you, so, naturally, one would expect the two of you to start dating. However, it felt like you both were testing the waters around each other instead—dipping your toes into the dating pool. You two were exclusive, but not exactly together.

You were perfectly content with taking things slow, but that didn’t necessarily mean Soonyoung didn’t end up over you almost every other night. The sex was great, of course. Mind-blowing, even.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan seemed to catch on quickly. There was no mistaking what was going on after you went over to their apartment to play Catan, and then you and Soonyoung disappeared into his room afterward. The next morning, when you walked downstairs in Soonyoung’s shirt to eat breakfast with everyone, you could pick up on their unspoken realization that you were hooking up with their roommate.

Seungkwan even made an offhand comment about you and Soonyoung being a thing—whatever that was supposed to mean.

You debriefed Junhui on the entire situation, of course. He seemed less surprised about you sleeping with Soonyoung, though, and more interested in the outcome of your driving test (which, you had to admit, you were terribly worried about).

The night before your dreaded behind-the-wheel exam, you received a call from Soonyoung.

You weren’t sure what to expect when you picked up the call. You knew that he’d been planning on getting high with his housemates today, so you weren’t exactly sure if this phone call was going to be private or not. You were half-expecting Seungcheol to answer for him instead.

“Hey,” Soonyoung greeted, voice slightly muffled. With the way the audio sounded, you suspected that he wasn’t holding onto his phone at the moment.

“Are you busy?” you asked.

“No, just trying to get the pod you gave me out of its packaging.” You heard a few strained grunts from him before he exclaimed, “I got it!”

“I’m proud of you.”

“That’s what I’ll be telling you after you ace that driving test,” he said. He paused for a moment (which you guessed was him taking a hit). “You ready for it, by the way?”

“Not really.” You sucked in a sharp breath. “The good news is that taking years to pass the permit test has helped me memorize all the rules of the road; the bad news is that I have severe anxiety and probably won’t be able to utilize anything I’ve learned.”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. You drove just fine with me, didn’t you?”

“But that’s you! How am I gonna drive properly with some scary old guy who probably hasn't ever smiled in his life?”

“Just relax. Remember to slow down on your turns and check your blind spots when you’re changing lanes.”

Your voice grew shy when you admitted, “This is gonna sound weird, but I kind of miss our driving lessons.”

“Even when you lost your tooth?”

You grimaced. “Even then.”

Soonyoung laughed along with you for a moment before he simmered. The silence on the other side of the line didn’t feel uncomfortable, but you felt like each nerve end of yours was on fire.

“I didn’t want it to end either, Y/N,” Soonyoung said after a while, his voice dropping an octave.

“Really?”

“I don’t wanna be in a world where we aren’t in a car together, whether I’m telling you to stop driving under the speed limit or we’re crashing into that Honda Civic that knocked your front tooth out,” he started, and you scratched the back of your head. Yeah, he was definitely high. “And, maybe… maybe the missing front tooth was really the catalyst for all the memories we made along the way. Maybe, in another universe, that tooth never fell out—or existed. Maybe the concept of that occurrence manifested into this universe as a—”

“Okay, it was cute at first,” you interrupted, “but you’re definitely in that other universe right now.”

You had never been this much of a nervous wreck.

Actually, scratch that. You were probably this much of a nervous wreck at least thrice a week. You functioned on being anxious several times a day, so this was honestly not a new feeling. The only problem was that you had never driven with anyone other than Soonyoung, so you were slightly on edge as you turned into the DMV.

“Please return my car in one piece,” Soonyoung said, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle as you went over a speed bump, which you found highly unnecessary. He pointed to the starting point for the driving test. “I’ll wait for you outside the building over there.”

“Sounds good.”

“And remember: if you’re gonna fail the test, make sure you fail it big time. Don’t fail it by going ten over the speed limit, or something boring like that.”

“That’s terrible advice, Soonyoung.”

“I’m playing. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Thanks, I’m just so—oh my god!”

You stepped on the breaks immediately, gripping the wheel tight as the car lurched forward. The man who was crossing in front of you doubled over onto the hood of the car before standing upright again. You rolled your window down to yell an apology, but the man paid you no attention and kept walking with a scowl on his face.

“I almost killed him!” you cried, slapping a hand over your mouth.

“Well…” Soonyoung didn’t seem to know how to reassure you as he was still immobilized with fear himself. He managed a shaky grin. “On the bright side, he’s alive and you’re not facing a lawsuit.”

You swallowed hard. There was no way this exam was going to go well.

After handing in the necessary paperwork inside the DMV, they approved you to go outside for your driving test. Since Soonyoung was letting you use his car while he waited outside, he sat with you until your examiner came by. He did everything he could to calm you down, but, ultimately, it was up to you to pass.

While Soonyoung was giving his seat up for your examiner, you closed your eyes and tried to take deep breaths to mentally prepare.

“Ma’am, can you turn on your left turn signal?” the examiner asked from your window.

When you turned to look at him, you felt something inside you shrivel up and die.

The man you almost ran over was your examiner.

In your daze, you managed to follow his instructions as he asked you to point out various things, such as the windshield wipers, defroster, and foot brake. All the while you were already preparing yourself for failure because there was absolutely no way this man was going to let you pass after almost becoming your victim.

Once the pre-drive safety check was over, he circled around the car to sit in the passenger’s seat, looking down at his clipboard for a moment. You held your tongue, hands clasped together in your lap. Were you supposed to apologize? Would he even care about your apology? It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, right?

You started in a meek voice, “Oh, about what happened earlier, I’m so—”

“I’m Jeonghan, and I’m gonna be scoring your behind-the-wheel test today,” he cut you off with an air of indifference, looking back down at his clipboard. “Whenever you start the car is when the test begins.”

“Right—yes, okay.” You swallowed thickly and gripped the wheel, looking behind you to make sure no one was coming. Since there were a few cars driving by, you decided to wait for a moment. “A-are you having a good day?”

“I was.”

You wanted to crawl in a hole and drop dead.

After the road was clear, you turned out of the DMV and started driving down the road, checking your speed and mirrors every so often. You had always been comfortably driving with Soonyoung, who would just help you reroute if you missed a turn. Now, though, if you missed anything Jeonghan said, you were going to fail (and probably die).

“Take the right coming up here,” he instructed.

You remembered your turn signal and to look back over your shoulder. Soonyoung had taught you well, but you were afraid that his gentle instructions would only take you so far. Jeonghan was the most intimidating person you had come across (mostly because you almost killed him), and you should not have been trusted to drive someone you were terribly scared of.

After you made the turn, you sighed in relief at the long stretch of road ahead. You attempted to cover it up by clearing your throat and making small talk with Jeonghan.

“It’s pretty cold today, isn’t it?” you asked. Stupid question. You had no idea how cold it was. Soonyoung’s car felt like a sauna because you cranked up the heater, or maybe the heat was from how nervous you were.

Jeonghan promptly ignored you. “Change lanes and take the next left.”

Albeit your state of disarray, you followed what he said. You decided to give up on small talk altogether, coming to the conclusion that Jeonghan just hated you and didn’t want to converse with the person who almost murdered him in cold blood.

You were pretty confident that the rest of your driving test went horribly. You almost went ten under the speed limit to make sure you didn’t run over anyone else in the school zone, you shrieked when the railroad lights turned on and you had to wait for the train to pass by, and you looked both ways about five times when you were at a stop sign.

Jeonghan told you to park the car once you reached the DMV, so you pulled into an empty parking space. You were praying that he wasn’t still grading you because you were most definitely occupying two parking spaces right now.

“Okay, so,” he started, looking at his clipboard before turning to you with a deadpan stare, “you drive too slow.”

Oh. That was intentional because you didn’t want to deal with another hit and run, but you stayed quiet and nodded.

“And,” he continued, “you overthink too much when you’re behind the wheel. Don’t hesitate before you stop or make turns, or you’re just gonna run into trouble that way. You can’t be paranoid about driving, otherwise it’s gonna be hard for you to be on the road.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line. This was it. He was going to fail you. There was no way you were going to pass when you were being criticized for your entire performance. You didn’t blame Jeonghan, though; you probably wouldn’t pass the person who almost ran you over, either.

“Well, you were cutting it really close,” he said, circling some parts of your examination sheet, “but you passed.”

Your eyes grew wide.

You passed.

You turned to Jeonghan and cried out, “I passed?!”

“You know your car, you know the rules of the road, and you did all your maneuvers just fine,” he continued. “You slowed down in the school zone to make sure you didn’t hit any kids, and you were careful about your turns and stops. Just remember not to be too careful, though, or you might run into someone.”

For the first time, you heard a small snicker of amusement come from him.

“I—I’m so sorry about that,” you blurted out. “I thought you were gonna fail me for hitting you with the car.”

“Like I said, the test begins when you start the car.” He handed you your papers and got out of your car. Before closing the door, he turned to you with his clipboard tucked under his arm. “You should go tell the DMV you passed and get your temporary license before I mark you down for this parking job.”

You gulped, unbuckling your seatbelt in a rush. “Will do.”

Jeonghan stalked off to grade another new driver, you supposed. When you got out of the car, your eyes immediately scanned the perimeter to search for Soonyoung, and there he was, waving you over from the sidewalk with a bright grin on his face.

Before you could even make your way over and break the news to him, he yelled out with his hands cupped around his mouth, “That’s my girl!”

You blushed, stopping in your tracks and staring at him for so long that it took a car honking at you to propel you back into motion. You scrambled over to Soonyoung, eyes wide as saucers and still frazzled from the emotional turmoil you went through with Jeonghan.

He wrapped an arm around you. “You know, no matter the result, I’m proud of you for trying. There’s always next time, you know?”

“Soonyoung—”

“Did everything else go well, though? Other than you almost killing him, obviously.”

“Soonyoung, I—”

“It was probably just bad luck, honestly. I mean, it was a recoverable bump, not even a full-on crash! You were going so slow that anyone could walk that off.”

“Soonyoung!” you yelled, thrusting your score sheet into his hands. “I passed!”

His eyes widened. “You passed?!”

“I passed!” you squealed. “I have to tell Junhui! I mean, he totally thought I was gonna fail my first two or six tries!”

Soonyoung crushed you into a hug, which would’ve been more endearing if your ribs weren’t being squeezed so hard. “Holy shit, Y/N, I’m so proud of you.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Be my girlfriend,” he spoke against your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin, and you immediately froze.

Kwon Soonyoung wanted to be your boyfriend. Even with everything that had happened—from the STIIZY pods, to the car crash, to the glow-in-the-dark condom—you still felt relief flooding your veins at the thought of Soonyoung liking you as much as you liked him. It almost felt like you were in a dream.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally remembered how to breathe.

You pulled back to look at him, and even though it was the middle of the day, it felt like all the stars were out to make Soonyoung shine brighter than usual.

“Be my girlfriend,” he repeated, softer this time, and his eyes were gentle as his hands reached for yours. Your lips immediately tugged down and your eyes were welling up with tears. “No, no, no, Y/N, don’t start crying at the DMV.”

You wiped at the corner of your eye. “I can’t help it. I always cry at the DMV.” He smiled down at you fondly, waiting for you to gather your composure. You mustered up the strength to lift your head and nod eagerly. “I accept.”

He was your boyfriend now. The word felt strange on your tongue, but it also filled you with inexplicable happiness. And when you saw how Soonyoung’s eyes crinkled at the corners, you thought you could definitely get used to this.

“You’re so cute.” He laughed, pulling you into his embrace once again. “How about we go get something to eat after you tell them your score?”

You grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

While Soonyoung was waiting in the car for you (and probably readjusting your terrible parking job before he got yelled at), you walked into the DMV and stood in the same line you were in months ago for your permit test. You remembered the anxious feeling of possibly failing your written test a seventh time, but now you felt a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“I did it,” you gushed to the woman at the counter, handing her your score sheet. “I passed.”

“Congratulations!” she chirped, examining the papers before turning to type something on her computer. She turned to grab your temporary license from the printer and handed it to you. “Here you go. Your real one should come in the mail in a few weeks.”

“Thank you so much,” you replied, inspecting your new license with bright eyes.

You failed your permit test six times, only passing on your seventh attempt. While other children were getting their licenses at the age of sixteen, you were still trying to pass the written test in your twenties. And, yes, you had severe driving anxiety, but you crossed that hurdle yourself and finally passed your driving test on your first try.

So, that glass ceiling? Consider it smashed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you've made it this far !! :') i've been wanting to write for hoshi for so long and this was just so fun <3 also BIG shoutout to everyone who asked to be on the tag list because although i couldn't respond to everyone (mostly because i figured i would end up tagging everyone twice 🧎‍♀️ ), i mega appreciate your interest ♡ hope everyone's having a wonderful day/night !!

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#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #soonyoung smut #seventeen #hoshi x reader #kwon soonyoung #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #svt hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen x reader

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joonberriess · 1 year ago

Text

⊹₊ ⋆ “They can't deny our love, they can't divide us, we'll survive the test of time, I promise I'll be right here, standing next to you,”

TAGS — drunk sex, dirty talkin’, jk’s a pervy mess, oc is smitten this time round bc she’s soft, unprotected sex, creampies, oc rides it nice n good before jk pounds her, tit play(?) not much, anGSTY, like full on crying bro, making out, like a lot, oc n jk go on a date, THERE IS PLOT THIS TIME, mentioned shower sex, messy sex, oc’s got that creamy puss—, soft ;( , sleazy baby daddy au!

WORD COUNT — 6.9 k

The day started out like any other: you woke up, dressed Jiho for school following your usual routine of heading to the gym after dropping your baby off. From there you headed to the office to catch up on unfinished projects, a meeting or two slipped into your schedule but nothing too crazy. You manage to squeeze in a small break at home before having to go and get Jiho.

It’s a Friday and you realize that you don’t have much planned for the day or weekend so you decide on dropping off Jiho at your moms and enjoying a weekend of solitude to yourself. You’re practically daydreaming about taking the biggest nap of your life after this, hell maybe you can finally taste that new wine you recently bought. You practically buzz with excitement on the way, and back home.

Unfortunately life had a funny way of working sometimes.

“Hello?” You sigh deeply whilst pacing back and forth. It was just your luck that your car decided to be a pain in the ass by breaking down on the side of the road. Now you’re stranded outside of the city after dropping off Jiho.

“Baby? What’s up, somethin’ wrong?” Jungkook replies, you can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, “You callin’ cause you miss my dick–”

“No dipshit,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance, “I got left stranded after dropping Jiho with my mom, car gave out on me and now I’m stuck outside the city kinda.” You look around, “Can you come help me out please?”

“Sure, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes top. Did you call the tow truck or nah? If you didn’t I can call while I’m on my way.”

You sigh in relief, “No I didn’t, but call your one friend. I’ll send you the location right now, bye.” You hang up and quickly send him your location. There isn’t really much to do so you sit back and scroll through your social medias to pass the time. Jungkook stays true to his word though and shows up in twenty minutes like he had promised. He’s not in his car though because today he’s brought his motorcycle.

“Hey.” You greet calmly and step out of your car. You make your way over to him, coming to a stop in front of his bike with your arms folded over your chest. You would rather not admit to anything (at least out loud) but he looks pretty hot, you can see his unruly hair underneath his helmet.

Jungkook slips his helmet off and shakes his hair out of his face, “Hi baby,” he grins, “so what happened here, hm?” He talks to you like he’s talking to a toddler, all teasing and shit. You don’t bother hiding your annoyance as you roll your eyes, making him laugh, “Alright, alright, but seriously what happened mama?” He leans over to bring you into his side, landing an obnoxious wet smooch over your lips.

You scrunch your face up and nod your head in the direction of the car, “Stopped out of nowhere, turned off and everything.”

He looks over at it and hums, “Pop the hood for me, gonna give it a look before Eunwoo comes.” He lets you go and rounds the front of the car, giving you a thumbs up to pop the hood up for him.

It unlocks and Jungkook opens it up leaning over the car with quiet “tch, tch, tch” noises as he tries to see what was wrong with it. You step out to watch him closely, trying to ignore how good he looks in a white wife beater with his arms and tattoos all out. Jungkook doesn’t even have to try when it comes to getting you hot and bothered.

“Shit babe,” Jungkook hisses and recoils, “you need to get the oil changed, ‘s fuckin burned and dried out. Top of that, I think the battery is either old or it just needs a charge.” He shakes his head with a grimace.

You sigh in relief, happy that it wasn’t anything major, “I’ll get it checked out at the shop then,” you help him slam the hood closed, “thanks.”

“Mm,” he leans against the car staring down at you, “need a ride back home?” He licks his lips, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s checking you out in broad daylight with that lecherous look in his eyes.

You nod, “Please, it’s finally my day off and this happens.” You chuckle bitterly and kick a rock, “Was looking forward to a nap, guess that won’t be happening.”

“Hm, I know a way we could pass the time..” He slides his hand around your waist, teasingly pulling at the belt loop of your jeans, “I can make you forget ‘bout all this mess mama.” He says in a low tone, “Just say the word..”

You bring him close with a hand around the back of his neck, lips inches away and eyes full of lust. “You’re so cute,” you softly breathe out as his eyes light up with arousal, “but no.” You pinch his arm extra hard, listening in satisfaction when he cries out in pain, “I’m not fucking you on the side of the road. Especially since Eunwoo might be close by, yeah no thanks.” You snort.

“Ow you fucking hurt me.” Jungkook hisses, “You left a mark! Look at that!” He thrusts his arm out to show the red mark you left, “Kiss it better.” He huffs quietly and eyes you expectantly.

You look back at him with a blank stare, “No,” you step to the side and look out for the tow truck, “last I checked I’m not the one responsible for kissing boo-boos,” you fold your arms over your chest, “you’re a grown ass man deal with it.”

Jungkook quietly laughs under his breath, “No you’re right—I can give you something else to kiss better.” He dodges your hand, laughing loudly while ignoring the colorful words you spew at him, “C’mon it was a little funny.”

“No it wasn’t,” you hiss while smacking his arm, “you’re so fuckin’ dumb Jungkook.” You try hard to fight off the chuckle stuck in your throat, “Oh my god.” You turn away, shoulders shaking as you quietly laugh to yourself.

Jungkook comes behind you to pull you into his chest while swaying side to side with you, “C’mere,” he leans down to kiss the side of your face, “go out for dinner with me, saw a new place open up and it has a lot of your favorites.” He murmurs in your ear.

“Yeah?’ You reply softly, “Where is it?”

“Gangnam,” Jungkook curtly replies while burying his face into your shoulder, “you down for some fun?”

You haven’t been out since your last girls trip to Jeju and that was like two months ago. Fuck it—you think—it’s friday and you don’t have to worry about work till tuesday. With Jiho being out for the weekend you guess you can unwind too. Plus Jungkook could be fun to be around with..sometimes. You won’t ever admit it though, what Jungkook doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Okay, sounds good. You need to drop me off at my apartment though, gotta get ready ‘n stuff.” You see the tow truck pulling into the side of the road, “C’mon, your friend’s here.” You pull away and start walking towards your car.

In the end Jungkook takes you to his apartment to get ready, he literally has you packing a overnight bag with everything you could possibly need for a weekend stay. You don’t even know why you agree to staying the weekend with him but Jungkook says something about Gangnam being close to his place and how he’d probably not be able to drive you back home if you two end up finishing late at night. You know it’s not that though, but you don’t have the heart to call him out for it.

“Lace,” Jungkook smirks as he looks at the underwear you dropped on his bed after opening up your bag, “red too, damn this for me mama?” He dangles the cheeky pair of panties up in the air.

You hum in response, not really focused on him because you’re trying to fix your grinder, “Gonna pregame or what?” You finally say after getting it to work, “Or you too old Jeon?” You stick your tongue out with a smirk while adding in some bud.

Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh, “Babe you trying to get me cross-faded? Fuck I don’t even think I’ve pregamed in a while, don’t wanna get shit-faced just yet though,” he scratches his nose, “so shots? We both need to remember our livers don’t work like they used to.”

“Yeah, yeah hold on.. let me finish real quick.” You mumble to yourself. The blunt hangs from your lips when you finish rolling it, old habits die hard you guessed when you go around picking up Jungkook’s clothes off the ground. You go around cleaning a little bit of his room before heading into his bathroom to start the water.

You and Jungkook smoke about half of the blunt together before taking a shot, which you end up pulling a face at and shaking your head, “Fuck I haven’t drank this shit since college,” you wipe your lips, “ugh, I’m gonna go shower. Bleh,” you try to get the bitter taste out of your mouth while disappearing into his bathroom.

Of course Jungkook doesn’t leave you alone as he follows you into the shower. By the time you’re both out there’s only a hour left before you two have to head out, “Babe I invited Hoseok and Yoongi if that’s cool with you,” he says loudly from inside the walk-in closet, “Yoongi said something about him and your one friend going together.”

“Who Hyejin?” You try to reply while lining your lips, “She’s the one who texted me like ten minutes ago,” you smack your lips together, “or is it someone else?”

Jungkook comes out wearing a black blazer over a white top, “Uhh I think?” He passes by with a cheeky ass grab, “ready for another shot?” He heads out to bring back the bottle, “Or you going to drink from the bottle?” He smirks lazily, you both end up taking a swig from the bottle.

“Okay, I’m ready.” You pull one of Jungkook’s black leather jackets over your body, “I don’t care if you only had one drink or no drinks, we’re both walking or getting a ride got it? I don’t wanna hear you complaining about having to leave the car overnight,” you sternly say to him as you both head out together, “I’m not trying to die in the middle of fuckin’ fall, ‘s freezing tonight.” You shiver a little.

Jungkook snorts, “Babe I’m a little cross-faded, but it’ll go away I promise-” he stops himself from finishing his sentence when he sees the glare you’re sending his way, “okay, okay, fine we’re gonna catch a ride home.” He winds his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in closely, “Nice little date night isn’t it?”

You snort quietly and look up at him in amusement, “Date? Ew, as if. We haven’t been on one of those in ages.”

“Don’t be such a little party pooper, first date and you’re already complaining? I’m hurt baby,” Jungkook holds the lobby door open for you, smacking your ass when you slip past him, “just wait and see, ‘m gonna make this the best night ever.”

His words make you roll your eyes, “Sure.” You’re secretly endeared though, and you can’t help but wonder what has you so soft with him today. Usually you found it annoying when he said corny/sappy shit but for some reason it’s cute? Maybe you really were in a good mood.

“Well don’t you look pretty,” Hyejin grins as she slips her arm around you waist, “you lil’ fuckin floozy, you fucked him didn’t you?” She laughs softly, “Look at all the marks, fuck lemme see,” she tries to take a peek into your dress.

“Hyejin,” you hiss while pushing her off of you, “you’re gonna show my entire tit to everyone around, stop.” You quietly laugh, “And for your information we didn’t go all the way because I didn’t let him, he only ate me out I swear.” You whisper into her ear, jumping in alarm and rushing to cover her mouth when she yells out loud.

She winks at you deviously before going back to her seat next to Yoongi. It’s nice being with friends like this, plus the restaurant was everything you hoped for. The vibes and atmosphere were pleasant, it was kinda reminding you of your college days when you and your friends stayed out late. It brings a tiny smile to your face.

“So how you been y/n?” Hoseok speaks up, “Felt like I haven’t seen you in forever.” His eyes dart back and forth between you and Jungkook, eyes taking in the way you’re both sitting so close.

“Been good, just working nothing too crazy, how bout you?” You nod your head at him, “Still doing that thing you told me about—fuck I keep forgetting what it was—but yea, you still doing that or..?”

Hoseok sips his beer with a nod, “Yeah,” he notices the way Jungkook’s hand tightens around your shoulder, “ ‘s gotten busier but business is good so I can’t complain you know?” He sheepishly smiles.

You briefly look over at Jungkook to see he’s got his tongue poking the inside of his cheek—the thing he does when he’s either angry or bothered—you’re not so sure why he’s pissy but you don’t dwell on it, “That’s good, let me know how it goes though. Can’t say I’m not interested from what you told me.” You feel Jungkook squeeze your arm, releasing it after a couple of seconds and then going back to stroking his hand up and down.

You both stay huddled close the rest of the night, Jungkook keeps his hand over your thigh and you have your head against his shoulder. The night only gets wilder as the restaurant turns into a full party with people singing and enjoying the loud music, Hoseok orders shots for everyone and by the time you check your phone to see that it’s one in the morning you’ve already lost count of how many drinks both you and Jungkook had.

“Another shot or what? You said you could out drink me, I wanna see your ass try,” Yoongi hiccups while sending you a glare, you notice that Hyejin’s already passed out with her face buried in his neck.

You grunt in annoyance and push at Jungkook’s arm, “Didn’t say, I know I can.” You rumble back and manage to take the shot, “Now you asshole.” You nod your head, “Hurry up Yoongi, you’re getting old or what?” You snicker.

He makes a face and manages to down it, “Fuckin’ hell, so nasty.” He shakes his head, “We’re too old to be doing this shit, fuckin’ Hoseok tapped out on the third shot! Look at his ass, he’s not waking up anytime soon.” He groans.

“Yeah I think I’m done too, getting so fuckin dizzy,” Jungkook sighs and looks over at you, “ready to tap out too baby?” He hums as he leans in to rest his face in your shoulder.

You nod slowly, “Yeah, my head hurts too.” You sigh deeply and wave the waitress down. Yoongi generously closes the entire tab and heads out with Hyejin and Hoseok to wait for a taxi. You and Jungkook take a couple of minutes to gather your thoughts before heading out to follow them.

You stick around outside to make sure that Yoongi, Hyejin, and Hoseok get into the uber together before heading back to Jungkook’s. It feels a lot warmer walking hand in hand with him, you find yourself grinning like a idiot, “Hey Jungkook,”

“Hm?” Jungkook stops to look at you.

“Does that playground by your house still have that one swing where two people can go on it together?” You smile.

He blinks a couple of times in confusion before a knowing smile crosses over his face, “Yeah, it does.” He squeezes your hand.

You both end up giggling like children while swinging around in the air on opposite sides facing each other. You squeal when Jungkook pushes you both extra hard, causing you to swing a bit faster as you land on the ground and huff with effort to push the two of you. “Fuck I haven’t done this much workout since Jiho joined soccer,” you chuckle.

Jungkook huffs quietly, hot breath going foggy in front of his mouth showing just how cold it was. “Fucking freezing, gonna get blisters from this shit babe.” He swings you both once more, smiling brightly when he hears you squeal again, “Shit you look like you’re having more fun than I am.”

“Cause I am,” you grin softly and let go of the handles, “but fuck you’re right, my hands hurt and they smell like iron.” You wait for Jungkook so that you two could go inside since the cold weather was starting to get to you. “C’mon I’m cold.” You purse your lips and shove your hands into your pockets.

Jungkook quickly follows after you. You both manage to get in, stumbling over each other with giggles and drunken jokes. Jungkook doesn’t make it before he’s crashing on the floor, sending you into hysterics as you bend over clutching your knees laughing. “Babe help me up!” Jungkook whines.

“H-Hold on,” you wipe your tears, “c’mere.” You haul his ass up, giggling hysterically at his messed up hair.

“And what you laughin’ at hm?” Jungkook wraps his arms around you and tugs you close, “C’mon tell me,” he whines and leans down to slide his lips over yours. Immediately you lean into the kiss, deepening it as you slip a hand over his cheek and cup it gently. His lips move over your own, gliding gently and slotting perfectly over your own.

Jungkook crowds you into the wall as he tries backing you into the living room causing you both to stumble. You don’t seperate from the kiss though even after almost falling back because you’re both tripping over something laying on the ground. Jungkook pulls back briefly, chuckling drunkly when he sees you’re both not in the living room, in fact you’re both heading towards his kitchen.

“Babe,” he softly mumbles as he caresses your cheek, “hol’ on, move that way.” He smothers you in another hot kiss, refusing to part even for a second.

You grumble softly into the kiss and pull away, “Can’t,” you mumble and let him kiss you again, “you’re kissin’ me and I can’t see where I’m goin.” You have a dopey smile on your face, “Lemme,” pause. “lemme take you to bed,” you slur out.

Jungkook nods eagerly and follows after you. His hands are impatient as he works his jacket off of you, he growls in frustration when he can’t quite get you out of the pretty dress you wore tonight. “Fuckin’ hell help me,” he pouts and kicks the door open, “can’t get it off, need to see you naked,” he giggles, “c’mon, help me.” He gives you puppy eyes.

“Paws off,” you growl playfully while stripping from your dress, “I got this.” You send him a pointed look and head over to his large comfy bed. You let yourself fall dramatically on it, arms and legs spread out like you’re a starfish or something.

Jungkook climbs over you a few seconds later, you notice he’s already shirtless as he grins softly down at you and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, “Hi baby.” He whispers softly between the two of you. You giggle quietly and smile back at him with a ‘hi’, he looks funny. The world around you spins in endless circles, fueling your dizziness and motion sickness.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, “best baby mama ever.” He leans down, mouth hovering over your neck as he leaves open-mouthed kisses over the warm flesh. You sigh quietly and lean into his touch feeling all warm inside from how endearing he was being.

“More.” You quietly reply, you want to hear all about how pretty you are to him. You’d never openly admit but Jungkook makes you feel special with the way he’s obsessed with you. On the surface he sure as hell was a dirty sleazy pervert but you knew he was genuine with you, even if his words were a little crude and unsavory at times.

Jungkook hums, “More what baby?” He softly asks while pulling back to look down at you, “Want me to touch you more?” He grins cheekily, “Coz I’m not complaining, love touchin’ and feeling on you.. So pretty,” he whispers as his eyes trail over you, “mine too..”

The ‘yours’ sits on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason it never leaves your mouth. “Stop playing around before I fall asleep,” you smack your lips with a dazed expression on your face, “then you won’t get to touch, only look.”

His eyes light up and he doesn’t say anything else, instead he captures you for a messy little kiss while his chilled hands slide down your sides and to your hips where those red panties sit. He teases you by pulling on the waistband, letting it snap back a few times before he finally pulls them down. You’re quivering in excitement, your own hands come up to unbutton his pants with ease.

Jungkook helps you shove them off, his boxers go with them two until you’re both laid bare for eachother. He lies flat over you with his chest right against yours, he takes his sweet time mapping every crevice and surface of your body. You’re not used to this time of affection in bed with him given that most of your fuckings were nasty and to the point. No, tonight’s different.

“Will never get used to how pretty you are,” he murmurs while laying kisses over your throat and chest, “just wanna keep you like this forever.” He whispers out as his hot mouth envelops a nipple.

He lays his tongue flat over your sensitive bud, lapping at it and teasing around it. Your lips part as quiet breathy sighs and moans leave you, only yelping when Jungkook fully encases your nipple with his lips wrapped around it tightly. “Fuck,” you tangle a hand in his hair and watch with hooded eyes.

Jungkook’s other hand comes up to fondle your neglected tit, pinching and rolling your hard nipple between his fingers in tandem with his powerful sucks. He switches back between both of them, leaving a small trail of spit as he goes. You don’t know how much of his teasing you can take, your cunt’s throbbing and more slick is dripping between your plush folds and down the crevice of your ass no doubt staining his sheets.

“No more,” you say when your nipples were sucked raw, “need you n’ my pussy,” you shift around and roll Jungkook on to his back, “gonna ride it, jus’ the way you like it.” You tease softly and leave a open-mouthed kiss over his mouth, sighing quietly when you feel his hot cock against your inner thigh.

“Mm,” he sighs as his head drops on the bed, eyes slipped in utter bliss as he holds your hips in his hands, “yeah—want you to ride it for me baby, wanna watch you bounce on it.” He rolls his hips upward as his cock bumps and slides against you.

You take his cock into your hand and stroke over it slowly, occasionally tapping it over your folds and smearing your slick over him. You catch sight of his dark cock, all swollen and throbbing in your hold. It makes your mouth water as you eagerly lift your hips and slip the tip between your folds until it catch over your winking hole. Both of your breath hitches as you ease him into you, hissing in pleasure as your cunt spreads around the mushroom-y tip, pink rim spreading and hugging him tightly.

Jungkook’s lips part in a long moan, he scrunches his face up in pleasure and rubs his hands over the swell of your ass cheeks. “Oh fuck baby,” he whispers, “jus’ a little more,” he groans, “fuck!” He hisses when you bottom out with a loud smack, your ass clapping off his pelvis as you seat yourself with his cock stuffed deep inside of you.

“So good,” you hum and give a few experimental rolls, just loving how deep he is from this position.

Your hands come down to settle over his chest for leverage, you don’t wait any longer before you’re bouncing idly over his cock. The excess slick begins rolling down to his balls creating a low audible squelch. Jungkook doesn’t really say much other than a few curses and whispers of your name. Your own noises come out breathy and low, constrasting the fopping sound your ass makes when it smacks against his thighs.

The bed frame begins to creak under your weight, slowly you begin speeding up until you’re full on bouncing on his cock. You ride till the tip remains inside before coming back down and slamming your hips over his. Jungkook’s grunts and moans rise in volume from the delicous pressure around his cock, your pussy grips him so tight he feels your rim hugging him almost as if you were refusing to let his cock go.

“Shit y/n,” the way your name rolls off his tongue sends butterflies deep in your tummy as you eagerly bounce, “like that, fuck it feels so fucking good, gripping me so tight,” he rolls his hips upward to meet your bounces, “oh fuck.” He throws his head back and grits his teeth.

You mewl quietly and switch from bouncing to grinding, you roll your hips back and forth over his cock and reach behind you to stroke and fondle his balls that press tightly against your ass. He moans loud and bucks his hips into you roughly, somehow punching his cock deeper with the tip kissing your cervix.

“Jungkook..!” You gasp out as your toes curl.

He brings his arms up to hoist you off and on to the bed, rolling the two of you over as he hikes a hand under your knee and lifts your leg up while he fucks into your pussy wildly. The new angle has his cock striking your g-spot over and over again with calculated thrusts. He punches loud moans and whimpers out of your lips, the pleasure bubbles over and has your pussy gripping him so tight it’s hard for him to backstroke.

“Look at me baby,” he pants, “yeah, show me that pretty face mama.. Look at you, taking my cock so well in that slutty little pussy. Got you drippin’ for me like I said you would, feel that?” He slows down and grinds into you slowly, hips circling in figure of eights as his cock rubs over your walls slowly, “See what you do to me baby? Got me all worked up for you, pussy’s suckin me in so well can’t help it.” He groans.

Your mouth falls open in a ‘o’ when he plunges into you quickly, fucking his cock in and out at a rapid pace. Slick dribbles all around with some splattering over the sheets and sliding down your pussy to your ass. His balls are heavy as they swing and smack into your ass repeatedly, every so often his cock throbs pathetically from inside of you.

“Oh god,” you whisper and throw your head back, “fuck right there Jungkook..!” You let out a shout of pleasure as he hits your g-spot over and over again without missing. He has you sliding up the bed from his brutal pace, the pleasure rising and rising as you grit your teeth and try to fight off your impending orgasm.

“Go on baby, cum for me.” Jungkook whispers, “C’mon mama, lemme see you cum all over my cock, make it nice and messy for me.” He rasps out and grips the pillow lying by your head tightly as he grits his teeth and fucks into you harder if it was possible.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, your entire body locks up as you let out a pathetic little cry of pleasure. You cum with a loud moan of his name, clinging desperately to him with your arms loosely wrapped around his back and your legs locked around him to keep his cock inside. Your cunt milks his cock for all its worth, squeezing spasmodically from the aftershock of your orgasm.

Jungkook moans low at the feeling around his cock as he slams himself deep a total of three times before he finally cums. His cock pulses, hot cum filling your pussy to the brim with some of it seeping from the sides of your cunt. He sits up to look down at the mess between you, whistling out of breath when he sees the creamy white slick smeared over his pelvis and your pussy.

“Fuck, made a fuckin’ mess.” He chuckles breathlessly and teasingly rubs his thumb over your neglected swollen clit, “Didn’t need to touch this lil thing to get you to cum.” He purrs.

Your thighs twitch and you twist around to avoid any touch to your sensitive cunt, “Stopppp,” you whine softly and bury your face in the pillow, “ ‘m so sleepy Kook,” you smack your lips and blink slowly, “bed’s dirty though..”

Jungkook brings you into his arms and sighs, “Looks like we’re sleeping in the guest bedroom.” He murmurs and rolls out of bed, “C’mon,” he holds his hand out, “let’s get you to bed mama.”

You smile shyly when he says it like that, slipping out on shaky legs and following after him.

“I’m never drinking like that ever again,” you quietly moan while slipping on Jungkook’s slippers and tugging the hoodie over your head, “don’t forget to bring my phone,” you say to Jungkook as you step out of the apartment.

“Got it..” He mumbles and follows after you.

You’re both obviously not in the mood for cooking or anything so Jungkook suggested the convenience store for breakfast (in this case lunch because you two slept in all morning). Jungkook walks hand in hand with you the whole way, only letting go when you both split up to get your respective items. Jungkook of course pays and helps you make both your ramen bowls while you sit by the window poking your drink and mixing it around.

“You look a hot mess,” Jungkook says when he’s walking over, “a sexy hot mess.” He cheekily adds in when you turn to give him a look. “What? I like you with smudged ass mascara and leftover lipstick, gives you that sexy bed look.” He winks.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not looking so hot either with lipstick all over your jaw.” You grin in amusement, “What did you get?”

Jungkook opens the black bag and sets all the snacks he got out onto the table, “This kimchi onigiri, uhhh sausage links, and this rolled egg thingy I don’t know.” He shrugs.

You eye the onigiri in curiosity, “Hm.” You mix your ramen around and open the seasoning packet, “Do you mind driving me to get my car? Eunwoo texted me last night saying it was gonna be ready for pick up later on, said that the battery’s charged now, he’s gonna just change the oil next.” You mumble.

“Yeah, wanna go after this? Eunwoo’s probably out on break, I can do the oil change myself.” He slurps his noodles loudly, cheekily grinning at you afterwards.

“Mm, fine with me. Just don’t fuck up my car or you’re paying for it.” You sip your drink just as loud.

Eunwoo doesn’t end up being there but he leaves Jungkook a key and a note telling him about what your car needs. Jungkook wastes no time in getting to work as he slips his shirt off and works in his white tank top. You sit in a chair just watching him work while singing silently under his breath. You can’t quite shake the uneasy feeling you get in your gut, all this—playing couple and pretending like nothing’s wrong.

It makes your heart twist bitterly seeing him like this, all domestic and shit. Even the night before when you guys were at dinner. Hell the playground was enough for you to realize what was going on. You’re not so sure you can go back to pretending like you two aren’t a thing after this. You can only hold it in so much before it all starts crumbling down.

“Babe,” Jungkook slips out from under the car, “pass me the funnel behind you, I already drained it.” He wipes his dusty cheek, “Babe?”

“Oh yeah, here.” You hand him the funnel, “What, do I have something on my face?” You say after noticing how intently he’s staring at you.

Jungkook shakes his head, “Nah, just admiring how cute my baby mama looks.” He smiles teasingly and goes back to work before you can even reply. “So, you doing anything after this? I was kinda hoping we could spend a day in watching movies and shit, ‘m still pretty hungover.”

“Yeah..” You nod, “Sounds good I’m not feeling the greatest either,” you turn to look at anything but him. You don’t know why but you’re hit with a swirl of emotions and it’s starting to sizzle under your skin and make you irritated. The more you think about it, the more agitated you slowly become.

“Hey,” he suddenly says in front of you, “got something on your mind?” His lips hover over yours before he closes the distance between you two. The kiss is sweet and gentle, it has your poor little heart throbbing inside of your chest. Jungkook’s lips smack quietly against yours, as he brings his hands up to hold the sides of your face.

You softly hum into the kiss and bring your arms around his neck. He makes a pleased noise and caresses his thumb over your cheek and jawline. It’s the sweet moments like this that have you doubting, you’re not so sure you can keep up with him anymore. He does all these sweet things and it just lulls you into a false security with him, like everything is okay and things were the way they used to be.

You want that..

Jungkook parts from the kiss and stares deep into your eyes, “You with me baby?” He say when he takes in how distracted you look.

“Yeah,” you softly whisper, “ ‘m here.” You bring him back for another passionate kiss, this time effectively blocking out all those little voices in your head.

Jungkook grunts in surprsie as he hoists you up with him, backing you into the counter nearby and swiping all the tools clear from the surface. His breath is ragged and heavy, touch quickly becoming possessive and desperate as he paws at your thighs and hips. You part your legs for him and let him step in between them, moaning quietly when his hips press over your sore cunt.

The empty garage is filled with soft panting and breathless sighs, your lips meet Jungkook’s over and over until they’re swollen and glossed over with spit n slick. You attack his neck in a flurry of kisses and pull him closer, practically hugging his body tight to yours as the two of you leave sloppy marks all over each other. You go to leave another mark but Jungkook’s quick to pull away with a quiet ‘wait, wait’.

“Get back together with me,” he suddenly pulls back, breathless and panting with wild eyes, “I want us to be a real couple—not whatever this shit is where one day you let me love on you and another you don’t.” His eyes are filled with hope as he pleads with you.

You stare at him in shock, mostly because hello the timing? You quickly shake those thoughts out and sit up, “Jungkook you can’t just ask me that out of nowhere, especially not with you standing between my thighs.” You sigh heavily, “Let’s just talk about this some other time.” You look away.

Jungkook frowns, “No, I think it’s a perfect time now. You say some other time but then you forget and play it off with work and other stuff. I just..I just wanna know where we stand, I’m tired of doing this back and forth thing baby.. It’s sending mixed signals, can’t tell whether you really want me or you’re planning to cut me out for good.”

You’re at loss this time, for the first time regarding the breakup you don’t have anything to say. It’s not something you easily know the answer to, not when you yourself is still trying to find the answers to these things. Jungkook should know by now this isn’t something that comes so easily. “Why? So you can be happy you ended up winning after what you did? So everyone can see you got your way despite being a shitty person Jungkook?”

He looks surprised like he wasn’t expecting your response, “Baby—no, where is this coming from?” He stands up intending to comfort you because he can see how quickly you’re growing upset with the way your frown deepens and tone morphs to hurt.

“Then what is it Jungkook?” You say in exasperation, “Is this gonna be your ‘I told you so’ moment? You play me like a fucking fool and come back years later with a slap on the wrist and suddenly everything is better between the two of us?” You blink the tears away, “It’s not fucking fair and you know it.” You fold your arms over your chest.

Jungkook shakes his head, “No, no, no, it’s none of that. I just wanted you to know I’m tired of going back and forth and never ending up nowhere with us..”

“Well guess what, I’m tired too Jungkook. Tired of pretending like nothing ever happened, like there isn’t a reason why we ended up like this in the first place.” You wipe your tears.

“y/n, I know things weren’t the best before and I fucked it up, I know—trust me. You don’t think I don’t regret what happened years back? It fucking eats at me every night because you’re not by my side anymore—”

“That’s the thing Jungkook! You don’t fucking get it,” you sob, “YOU were the love of my life, you were everything to me! And for you to do what you did-” you choke up and cover your mouth, “and I’m supposed to heal from that? I never did, and I never will because the person I trusted the most—who I loved so much—fucking betrayed me. Do you have any idea how I felt? You were my everything, and you fucking threw it away!” You scream in anger and frustration.

“Y-You broke me,” you hiccuped, “it’s not fair that you get to come back like nothing, ‘n now everyone’s gonna look at me like a fool because I got back together with my shitty baby daddy.” You sniffle, “I have thought about us for a while, but I’m scared because I don’t know if you’re going to do the same thing all over again.”

Jungkook’s own eyes are brimmed with unshed tears, he quietly sniffs and clears his throat, “I’m sorry y/n, I never did get the chance to but I’m sorry for everything. But not once did I stop loving you ever, you were my everything too—and you still are. Nothing about the way I’ve felt about you has changed, and it never will either. I realize how impulsive I was just now so,” he drops to his knees in front of you and holds your hands, “please y/n, let me prove to you I can still make you and Jiho happy. I don’t care if you wanna make me wait until you’re ready, I’ll be right here waiting for you. Just please, give me one last chance..”

You desperately want to say no, but you’re weak. You’re too busy clinging to every little memory of him in the past to fill that emptiness in your heart to notice that you’ve wanted him back all along. You feel the doubts begin to creep out of your body as you peer down at him, “You’ll..wait..?”

Jungkook nods, “As long as you want me to.” He whispers back.

“Okay..” You softly reply and squeeze his hands tightly, afraid that if you let him go he’ll vanish into thin air.

“Okay.” Jungkook sighs in relief, smiling up at you tenderly. He rises to his feet and brings you in for a tight hug, just relishing in your warmth and softness as he rocks the two of you side to side.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into his arms, “You’ll be here with me right?” You lay your head on his chest.

“I’ll be right here,” he hums, “standing next to you.”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

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chrattho1 · 27 days ago

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bsf!chris x reader

backfired.

summary: just one of your car rides with chris,where you get to know something interesting yet heartbreaking about him.

warnings: none its just interaction between two friends ig

a/n: ill keep making such blurbs and texts’ until they get together guys trust🙏 also this is inspired by yesterday’s video!!!

more of this au here

you are in the passenger seat of the car that is more familiar to you than your own. the scent of weed mixed with chris’ cologne smells like everyday to you,music playing in the background,chris bobbing his head to the beat as his eyes stay focused on the road.

chris looks away from the road for a split second-just to glance at you looking at him.

its been a couple of weeks since you broke up with your ex,and chris has been there for you this entire time,getting you food in bed when you dont feel like getting up,staying over,helping you out in any way that he can-your admiration for him grew everytime he helped you out.

right now,nobody is talking in the car,but this is what you love about your friendship with chris-you can sit there in silence and just think without worrying if it will get awkward. well unless he says something stupid and breaks the silence.

you loved that about him,so much- he says everything that comes to his mind,he vocalises his thoughts to you and that makes you feel safe.

he parks at a corner,pulls the mc donalds bags’ ahead from the back seat.

“here are your fries-and your nuggets” he talks mimicking how a parent would talk to a child,you chuckle.

“what if the nugget you eat just exploded in your tummy like-boom” chris says and immediately starts cackling,you laugh with him,your head falling back and your eyes shut.

“shut up bro im fucking crying” you said wiping a tear that was developed out of laughter.

chris nods still chuckling,taking a bite out of his burger, his eyes turn to you as he smiles with his mouth full.

“how many people have you been in love with?” he asks out of nowhere,catching you off guard

“this is so random” you chuckle chewing at your fries.

“just tell me” chris groans acting annoyed

“i have definitely told you this before” you said taking a sip out of his sweet tea.

“no you haven’t” he shakes his head.

“you think we haven’t talked about this before? be for real chris” your eyes narrow,not believing that you two-probably the only two people in this world who have discussed all topics from the most random to the deepest,in detail for hours-haven’t talked about this.

“on my life-i dont know the answer to this question,why do you think i asked” he shruggs

“i think just the one time-remember i told you about the guy i grew up with back home?”you remind him

“yeah yeah him-how long do you think you were in love with him?" he asks another question.

“well lets see..” you start counting years on your fingers, giving up before answering .

“from the age of 12-maybe 11 till i was almost 17” you answer with wide eyes.

“no fucking way-i did not know that” his eyes widen at your response too,before he continues talking.

“what was it about him?” he looks up at you from his fries.

“i dont know-we were friends for so long he knew everything about me and i knew everything about him,he was just a nice dude” you said almost sounding like you were describing chris.

“so he was me?” chris gives you a smile-the smile with his entire underbite showing.

you grin,blinking at him before jokingly hitting his face to the side.

“what about you? how many times has THE chris sturniolo been in love?” you asked looking at him with a smirk,you have an answer at the back of your mind because this conversation has 100% taken place before.

“alright this backfired real quick” chris mumbles under his breath with a scoff,his gaze turning away from you hiding a shy smile. you were beyond confused.

“WHAT? YOU DONT WANNA TELL ME?” you were shocked by his response,usually chris wants to tell you everything,and knowing that you both have definitely talked about this before, him not wanting to answer this question now bothered you.

“okay i’ll flash the numbers and you just stop me when you see the answer yeah?” to your words chris drops his face into his hands and groans slightly,like he is…embarrassed?

you hold up one finger in his face,to which he pulls his face out of his hands,looking at your hand and shakes his head in disappointment.

“you think i am at one?” chris spoke his voice cracking just a tiny bit

“okay i remember now-two” you were positive that thats what his answer was,because when you first became friends he did mention being in love twice

a small smile on his face as he fidgets with the straw on his drink,he shook his head again.

“no??? three people then!?” you screamed in his face

“DONT SAY IT LIKE THAT?” he replies with a frown

“can i get a list because i feel like im missing someone” you asked him genuinely curious because you definitely remember only the two .

“maybe later” chris hummed returning back to his fries with the small smile still on his face.

“three people huh?” you speak up again.

“i just- dont have a problem being in love with someone and not doing anything about it you know?” he shrugs like he didn’t just say something that made your heart curl up into a small ball in your chest,you cared about chris so much and you know what it feels like being in love with someone and not allowing yourself to do something about it,you try to think hard about who this woman could be because the other two women chris was in love with-he did make a move on,your frown growing with each passing second.

“oh-chris” your face fell,your hand reaches down to his lower thigh,rubbing it to console him.

“eh it’s whatever” he shrugs,his eyes plastered on your hand that is on him right now,he takes a sharp breath

“anyways” chris sighs,his eyes lower than before

“wanna smoke a joint with me?” he continues,with a smirk on his face.

a smile grows on your face,you nod.

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @chris-halleluja @sl4ttformattsturniolo @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrisslittleslut @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @herewegoagain-b @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @chrissturnsss @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s

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void-my-warranty · 3 months ago

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𝐀𝐱 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐧

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Fem Reader Zombie apocalypse AU (all parts here)

Something is wrong.

Your nervous system has known it for weeks, ever since Gaz appeared out of nowhere to ruin your life. But now the constant hum of danger has escalated into a tangible vibration, as night falls on the camp, and you feel the invisible attention of every man shift to you.

Something is wrong, something is wrong, SOMETHING IS WRONG.

It doesn’t seem to matter that you absolutely - and loudly - denied Gaz’s claim. Nick hasn’t stopped glaring at you like you stole his ice cream cone. At you! Not Gaz, who’s the dirty rotten liar, but you, who did absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, you were the one who begged not to be left alone with Gaz, so what right do they have to be upset?

Not that Gaz got off scott free. Doran dragged him into the woods for a talking-to as soon as you returned, which you fear was more about sexual misconduct than about his ridiculous vendetta.

That’s the part that hurts the most, not that he betrayed you, but that you weren’t expecting it. He was being so reasonable that for one measly afternoon, you almost started to like him. What a fool you were. A hopeful, unsuspecting fool.

Sitting beside the campfire, you try to ignore the charge in the air, and methodically work your hairbrush through the last of the half-dried tangles. You smell and feel clean now, but at what cost?

“We’re not supposed to touch her.”

Again, Nick’s words weave through your thoughts, and you can’t quite put your finger on the reason they disturb you so much. You should be grateful that Doran set up some kind of protection. It’s undoubtedly why you’ve felt comfortable with them for as long as you have – the understanding that you’ll have safe passage, in more ways than one.

But there was no mistaking the resentment in Nick’s eyes, while you scrambled to throw your clothes back on beside the creek. “We’re not supposed to touch her.”

Why can’t Gaz just leave you alone? You were fending for yourself perfectly fine with only his casual disdain, but now it seems he won’t be satisfied until you’re left abandoned on the side of the road, like that horrible, mass suicide Rich found a month ago. Every day, Gaz does everything he can to alienate you from the group, and every day you get closer to your period.

You hope he doesn’t come back from that talk. An arrow in the chest could remove a really big problem in your life, and it’s not like the blood would matter all that much. You only have two and a half days left, so you’ll be on the move again whether you like it or not.

All you want to do is eat til you’re full, sleep til you’re rested, and trust someone enough to turn your back on them. But at this point, you’re fairly sure you’re never going to get any one of those luxuries ever again.

The first thing that really sets your nerves on edge isn’t what happens, it’s what doesn’t happen – Doran doesn’t announce anything at dinner. You know you’re going to the town tomorrow, he’s said as much, but there’s no delegation of tasks for the morning. There’s just that electricity in the air, the unusually quiet dinner, and Gaz sitting as far away from you as possible, glowering at the flames.

Despite his betrayal, you’re distinctly aware of his insinuation from earlier, that your rights were being discussed among the others. You’re obviously anxious about the outcome of that discussion, and especially nervous that Gaz’s stunt at the creek may have tipped things out of your favor.

Don’t worry, you tell yourself. There’s no point in driving yourself crazy, when you need to be smart, and present in the moment. You need a plan.

When Doran pulls you aside after dinner, you’ve got your innocent face on. You’re just a cute, helpful thing, and surely it’s more trouble than it’s worth to get rid of you.

“Tim will take your watch tonight,” Doran tells you bluntly.

Your face crumples in disbelief. “What? Why?”

He frowns. “You want watch?”

”Yes, of course. We all have to share the load.”

Doran eyes you speculatively. That’s something you’ve always liked about him, that he doesn’t weasel his way out of anything. He’ll look you in the eye and tell you the painful truth, which is essential for survival these days.

”You’ll need your sleep, for when you have to travel on your period. Take the night off.”

Reasonable, right? Logical, and unusually accommodating. But as you frown up at his face, you observe his eyes flick uncomfortably towards the trees for a moment, and a stone of dread sinks in your belly.

”Thank you, sir,” you tell him, innocent and unsuspecting.

A grunt is his only reply, turning back towards a group of the others near the edge of the woods.

Gaz is not in that group.

There are three reasons why you’ve survived this long, without any family or friends to protect you after the collapse of civilization. One, you’re uncommonly good at reading people. Two, you’re uncommonly good at mirroring, and figuring out how to fit yourself into whatever you need to be. And three, you always listen to your body’s intuition.

That night, you’ve barely rested your head on your lumpy, spruce needle pillow, when your skin pinches in a tight layer of goosebumps, and a warning radiates up your spine.

You subtly look around at first, trying to understand what it is your subconscious has picked up on, but nothing appears out of the ordinary. There’s just you, and your campmates, and Gaz. All stretched along the trampled grass as usual, but there’s something very wrong.

You’ve got nothing now, not even a knife for defense. If Gaz decides to off you in your sleep tonight, you’re confident he could take you out before you could so much as scream for help.

But you’ve also begun to suspect that Nick was the one who followed you into the woods last night. That his presence was the oppressive danger you felt, and subsequently ran from. What if he has something horrible in mind? What if Gaz’s claim to your body unintentionally painted an even worse target on your back?

You don’t dare go to sleep like this, you wouldn’t manage it even if you tried. Tim is on watch on the other side of the camp, and there are clouds covering the moon, so he doesn’t see you army crawl your way towards the woods. It takes quite some time to do it slowly and silently, but eventually you’re safe in the tree line. You brought your fleece jacket with you — you’ll need something warmer very soon, and maybe the town will yield a winter coat — but the night air is still uncomfortably cool against your cheeks.

What now? You can’t just stand here all night, losing sleep and making yourself vulnerable to the woods at your back. If someone found your bed empty, it’s a good bet they’d come looking over here anyway, so it’s not exactly a safe zone.

There’s an oak tree just a few meters farther into the woods, a big one. It’s not the easiest thing to climb, but after the months you’ve had to practice, you manage to haul yourself up into the branches without breaking any. You climb carefully, high enough up the trunk that you wouldn’t be spotted from the ground unless they had a flashlight. To your relief, you realize you now have a clear view of your camp roll below.

You can’t see much more than the blurry lump of it on the ground, but it gives you a measure of comfort, knowing that your paranoid delusions will be proven wrong over the course of the night. There’s certainly no prickle on your neck now, as you ease your body into the snug V of two solid branches. It’s not comfortable enough that you’d quickly fall asleep, but it’ll be relatively safe from a fall if you do.

The leaves rustle around you in the autumn breeze, and you rest your cheek against rough, crinkly bark. Like many other nights, you find yourself fantasizing about your past life — the bed you had, the food, the locked doors that kept you safe. You remember how it was to have friends, and never have to wonder if they were just leveraging you as a means of their own survival.

Sleep comes surprisingly fast, in the safety of the oak tree. When you realize you’re beginning to doze, you hook your arms around each branch, and let your legs hang loose to act as a counterweight to your upper body. And then you fade.

When you come back to awareness, you’re confused about how long you were asleep. The night is still the same shade of black, but the wind has stopped, and there’s an eerie silence blanketing the area. Your only solace is that the camp takes watch duty seriously, and if there were biters in the area, you’d know from the smell.

You’ve just begun to close your eyes again, when the task of checking on your camp roll comes back into focus, and you squint down at—

Shit, something’s moving. There’s some kind of grey blob slinking slowly towards your bed, apparently unable to tell that you’ve abandoned it already. Even this far away, you find yourself holding your breath in fear, doing your best to gather back your mental capabilities and figure out what this means.

The outline goes motionless when it reaches into your blanket and finds it cold and empty. It freezes there for a few seconds, and you smile grimly to yourself at the disbelief you imagine on the face of your would-be attacker. What? Silly forager girl is smarter than she looks? How inconvenient.

The shadow straightens up, leaning forward as if peering into the woods. No, you’re not coming back. You’re going to stay in this tree, and watch whoever-it-is go back to their own bedroll. You know, one of the ones you’ve marked in your head, aware of exactly the spot where each person sleeps at night. They’ve shown their hand tonight, and you’ll finally be a step ahead of this threat.

With the same wary slowness, the man slinks over to the other side of the clearing, and crawls back into Doran’s bed.

The next day, it takes an entire morning to travel all the way to the town.

Sitting in your tree that night with adrenaline pounding through you, you’d seriously considered abandoning the group right then. It was tempting to make your way in the opposite direction all on your own, without a moment to spare. But all of your supplies were still down at the camp, and you’d have to be a fool to leave with no water filtration, no means to make a fire, and no tampons.

So you’d crawled back into bed right before dawn, and when everyone else woke up, you pretended you’d been there the whole night. You were smiley, you were helpful, and you didn’t cast a single suspicious glance at the man who tried to sneak up on you in your sleep.

Let him wonder. Let him doubt. If you’re sure about one thing, it’s that you won’t be spending another night anywhere near these men.

You hike most of the day next to Rich, because he’s never seemed to care about you one way or the other. You don’t look at Gaz, and he doesn’t look at you.

It’s fate you’re relying on now. You’re desperately hoping that the town will have the survival supplies you need, maybe some lightweight food options, and a winter coat. If somehow the stars align on your scavenging, you can separate immediately from the others, hide somewhere in an empty building until they give up looking for you. You’ll make your own way at night fall, abandoning the only safety you’ve known in all these months, and hoping some other stroke of luck will befall you.

The others will probably thank their lucky stars to be rid of you.

You spend the journey scheming, and then mourning. It’ll be you against the world in just a few short hours, and you’re so close to your period. The timing couldn’t have been worse for Gaz to come out of nowhere to disrupt your life and your wellbeing. You’d probably be angrier about it, if you were a little less tired.

It’s strange, seeing the straight lines of rooftops again, when you get closer to the small town. Man made construction, now abandoned and haunted with the lives that will never be. You can practically see the cars cruising up and down the street, the mothers carrying in groceries.

Life, and purpose, and women.

Gaz goes on ahead, to take out the couple of biters wandering the outskirts. Two well-placed arrows in the head gives your group a clear path through the overgrown lawns, and you all leave your supplies near the treeline, for a faster escape if necessary.

The arrows have already been picked out of the motionless dead when you pass by, black rot oozing out of one of the eye sockets that was pierced. They’re both female, as biters often are.

“Look for any houses that are still locked,” Doran orders the group at large. ”Check basements and garages.”

Funny, you were under the impression that menstrual products were a priority.

Fuck, stop. You’ll have time to murder him in your mind later, when you have some comfortable miles of separation.

You head for the houses farther in, hoping that most scavengers would stick closer to the woods for an escape route. Still, nearly all of them have been broken into, or unlocked.

This was not a wealthy town, and the first home you walk into reminds you uncomfortably of your house growing up. Quickly scanning the disarray inside, you notice that something weird was done to the kitchen. Appliances were unplugged and moved around — a mixer here, a blender there — as if someone meant to take it with them, and then thought better of it. You open the oven on a whim, and shake your head at the electronics stowed in there, as if someone were afraid they’d be stolen in their absence. It’s difficult to see the value in a Nintendo Switch these days.

The house is colder than the air outside, so you hurry to the bathroom and check the water cistern on the toilet. You’re delighted to find it full, and you take your first comfortable piss in a long time, flushing it down with the months-old water.

Unfortunately, whoever lived here only used pads. You grab a half empty bottle of ibuprofen from the cabinet, foregoing the crusty tube of toothpaste, and try the bathroom connected to the main bedroom.

That investigation yields more pads and a fucking menstrual cup, so you cut your losses and head to the next house. And then the next. Half an hour later, and you’ve got a whopping seven tampons, a new bar of soap, and some Vaseline that looks nearly fresh out the package. You don’t dare carry anything containing water these days, as much as you may longingly eye the conditioners and lotions. Water has weight, and every gram counts when you’re backpacking for weeks.

The sudden noise of a door latching disturbs you. You distinctly remember locking everything behind yourself with each house you’ve entered, so whoever-it-is must have found another way in.

Silently closing the bathroom cabinet, you grab the pair of grooming scissors sitting on the counter, and fit them snug into your palm in a way that keeps them concealed, but available for stabbing.

Entering the hall, the floorboard creaks under your weight, and you freeze to listen. There are only small, scuffing sounds coming from the living area, but no other clues to your intruder’s identity. Biters can’t close doors, right?

Sticking to the extreme edge of the hall near the wall, you keep your feet in a straight line to walk on the sturdier parts of wood, and make your way slowly to the corner, peeking one eye around the drywall.

It’s Gaz. Of course it’s Gaz. He doesn’t appear to see you, even though he’s facing in your general direction. He’s found a cigarette somewhere, and he’s currently taking drag after drag of it, shoulders slumped with fatigue, and eyes half-lidded like he’s gone somewhere else mentally.

He has no idea the impact of his actions. He’s a stupid, stupid man, who does petty things because he has no other joy in life. Adjusting your grip on the scissors, you seriously consider for a moment, just attacking him. He doesn’t seem to know you’re here, and you might get a few good blows in before he could react.

But those are inside thoughts. Realistically you can’t afford to be covered in blood right now, even if you did manage to gravely injure him. There are tampons to look for, and not enough wiggle room in your schedule for murder.

But that doesn’t mean you have to walk away.

”Hello, Gaz.”

To your immense satisfaction, his entire body jolts in surprise, and his mostly-smoked cigarette drops to the carpet.

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles, snubbing it out with his boot and then frowning over at you. “This is not a good time.”

You adjust your backpack a little higher on your shoulder and peel away from the wall. “Oh, yeah. It must be so inconvenient to have women always coming on to you, when you’re just minding your own business.”

He blinks tiredly at you, shaking his head a little. “Don’t do this.”

You take another step forward, screwing your face up in mock confusion. “Don’t do what? Because according to you, I’ve already done it.”

Gaz merely reaches into his pocket and procures another cigarette, releasing a long, frustrated breath.

“Is that what you wish would happen?” you purr, stepping up to the edge of his personal space. “Is that what you think about, Gaz?”

Tucking the unlit cigarette back into his pocket, he finally turns his attention on you with a steely look. “No.”

“You know what I think?”

“Reckon you’re too busy being Doran’s little wife to do any of that.”

You ignore the insult to smile innocently at him, and take that last step into his body. Brazenly you place your palm right over the middle of his chest, atop the heart that’s pounding a rapid, frantic rhythm against your hand. Liar.

“Mmm.” You let your hip settle against his, curving your body seductively into his warmth. “I think you get so hard when you’re around me. I think you lie and cheat and ruin my life, because you can’t stand how bad you want me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters, his heart picking up even faster. The scent of that stupid deodorant somehow pokes through the smell of tobacco, and you screw up your nose at it.

“You smell like a girl.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, slightly adjusting the angle of his body.

And then you feel his fingers finding your hand, and the scissors get skillfully removed from your possession, as his eyes stay locked on yours.

A thick, hot wash of rage floods through your chest, as you stare back at him and imagine smashing his nose into his brain. Your face is carefully neutral, but if he were to find your pulse right now, it would rival his.

Impulsively you bring your face even closer, nearly brushing your mouth to his ear as you tip your chin up and slowly, distinctly whisper, “I hate you.”

He’s so still. He doesn’t even seem to breathe at all, which gives you a ball of sick satisfaction in your chest, that you finally managed to offend him.

And then just when you’re about to pull away, he turns his head and presses his scruffy mouth to the corner of your lips.

Next Part

Dividers by the-aesthetics-shop

#call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod gaz #dinnertime #ax grinder

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evilminji · 11 months ago

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I woke up to this thought? And it made me smile~

Wrong way Au?

It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.

Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!

Childhood.

Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.

And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.

Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.

Where the FUCK are they Clark?

According to the GPS?

Here.

(You are Here. You are Here. You are He-)

Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!

Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?

Was... was that THERE a second ago?

Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.

Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.

And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?

Fuck ™.

Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.

They park.

There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.

Grinning.

Everything grinning.

As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.

They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.

Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.

Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.

Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.

Then they are noticed.

"Cousin!"

One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.

"LETS WRASTLE~!!"

He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.

By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.

Dives into the fray.

Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!

It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.

His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.

By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!

Clark... Clark is so tired.

He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!

They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???

So yeah.... no more road trips.

How was YOUR weekend?

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#minji's writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #welcome to the family au #fenton family reunion

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months ago

Text

virgin sacrifice

a/n: you guys? hail satan.

summary: you didn’t think in your wildest dreams that Captain and Tennille’s best hits would be blasting over the camp’s speakers while you were running for your life from two nut job serial killers, ones who had already slain what looked like most of the other campers.

warnings: dark!steve harrington x reader x dark!eddie munson, dark content, noncon/dubcon, smut, summer camp au (they are all camp counsellors), slasher au, virgin!reader, very innocent!reader, final girl!reader, established relationship, violence, murder, weapons, blood, devil worship, predator/prey, bondage, knife kink, dirty talk, pussy inspection, oral, fingering, anal

word count: 1389

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

It was the summer of 1986, right before you were supposed to go off to college and start your real life. It was also the summer when you worked as a counsellor at Camp Nebula, the very summer you fell in love for the first time. The summer when the most popular guy for some reason took notice of you and started calling you his girl.

Now, he was a tad bit more experienced than you and wasn’t shy to show you in ways that you always snuffed out before they could grow into anything uncouth. That’s not how you’d been raised, to lose your virginity in a summer camp’s tool shed, however gobsmacked he made you feel, you just couldn’t take that step.

No one had ever looked at you the way that he did, truly listened to you when you spoke, and even stood up for you, like whenever the camp’s freak would say things to you vulgar enough to render you speechless, your knight in shining armour would step in and save the day.

It was the perfect summer.

Was.

Completely perfect right up till the murders began to happen.

You didn’t think in your wildest dreams that Captain and Tennille’s best hits would be blasting over the camp’s speakers while you were running for your life from two nut job serial killers, ones who had already slain what looked like most of the other campers.

Lungs burning, you sprinted through the dark camp, a flicking lamppost above illuminating the path you raced down, the ground littered with sharp pine needles.

When you made your way to the dining hall, the rotary phone inside, your plan of salvation, turned out to be just as dead as the summer friendships you’d thought would last a lifetime.

“There’s nowhere left for you to run, little lamb!” the petrifying roar from just outside the hall’s walls caused you to jump and scurry into the kitchen, though when you did, your gaze should have been directed in front of you and not over your shoulder as you swiftly crashed into a figure.

A blank mask stared down at you, one of the ones that the kids used for crafts, usually decorating them with an explosion of paint and beads.

Chuckling softly at the way you stumbled back, he playfully uttered, “boo!” raising his hands up to scare you, retroactively flashing you the blade fast in his grip. Half-obscured eyes stilled glued to you, the killer shouted over his shoulder, “found her!” and held the weapon outstretched to keep you where you were.

“Oh, good,” another masked murderer appeared as the back door was swung open, “well then let’s get this show on the road!”

“Please don’t kill me!” you cried as the one keeping you cornered grabbed you.

“Kill you?” one of them laughed, “oh honey, we’re gonna do so much more than just kill you,” before he got out a bundle of rope and gestured to his partner, “get her up on the table.”

Once they’d forced you down upon the cold steel surface and tied you up, they proceeded to reveal something to you that nearly caused your thumping heart to stop.

“…Steve?” you scarcely breathed as one of them plucked off his mask and tossed it onto a counter.

“Surprise,” your summer sweetheart flashed you a smile.

“But–… I’ve been looking for you everywhere all night, you–… you did this?”

“Well, don’t give him all the credit,” the other one peeled off his mask as well.

“Eddie?” you shuttered, “b-but you two hate each other.”

“That’s what we had to make you think so that no one would suspect a thing,” the long-haired rebel wiped some of the bloodstains on his blade clean on the hip of his jeans, “no one would ruin our plan.”

“Y-your plan?”

“Might as well tell her,” Eddie nudged his partner who shifted his grip on the axe heavy in his grasp, “since she has such a big part to play in it.”

“Oh, what the hell, why not,” Steve grinned and pulled over a rickety stool, “you see, there are things, wishes, that both me and Eddie have,” the man you thought you’d loved began to explain, “ambitions that, try as we might, we can’t achieve on our own. So, Eddie here found this old book, this tome, that explained a ritual that could grant us our deepest desires...” he uttered dreamily, “it was really quite simple when it came down to it… first 40 lives and then you.”

“…me?” your voice trembled, “why me? I’m not anyone special, I'm just–”

“Oh no, Y/n, you sweet, sweet dumb girl,” Steve chuckled darkly, “you are the final piece to the puzzle,” he stared directly into your soul, “our perfect little virgin sacrifice.”

Taking a step closer to your strapped-down form, Eddie’s stare danced down your frame, scrapes and dirt still tainting the uniform you’d freshly washed just this morning.

“But you know, the funny thing is, our lord and saviour down in hell has a funny and pretty ancient definition of what a virgin is,” he teasingly ran the flat side of his blade up the length of your leg, smiling as you squirmed, “sure, some things are off limits, but not a lot…,” the tip of his knife dipped under your shorts and sliced them in two. With the configuration that they had bound you in, everything was already embarrassingly on show, though even more so now that all of your clothes were cut off your frame. Completely mesmerised as the last shred left your form, Eddie uttered softly, “oh, this is gonna be so much fun.”

“What are you doing?” you struggled against the robes as Steve rose from his seat.

“It’s a real shame, baby,” his broad hands ran up your inner thigh, “I really did wanna pop your cherry myself, fuck I would have loved that, but I don’t deserve it as much as he does,” his thumbs, creeping up to either side of your core, extended out to wickedly spread you apart, “Satan may get to have your pussy,” you shuttered at the mortifyingly soppy sound that emanated as he briefly ran a finger though your folds, “but this little hole isn’t off limits,” his digit then swept down to draw a feathery circle over your rosebud.

“Nor this one,” Eddie’s hand found your cheeks in a pinch and forced your lips to pucker, “but we might have to do a bit of convincing in order to be able to play up here,” your body stiffened up as the cold edge of his blade then pressed against your throat, “no teeth, or else we won’t make you feel good, won’t give you a little treat before you help us contact the man downstairs.”

“How in the fuck do you think I’ll like any of this?” you spat back at him.

“Uh!” they both laughed and shared a glance before Eddie noted, “I think that might have been the first time I’ve ever heard little miss goody two shoes swear! That’s so cute!”

“Fuck you,” you wept, “you psycho–, oh!” a moan then ripped through your body and surprised you to the very core.

Glancing down between your legs, you saw that Steve was kissing you down there, his lips latched on to the little pearl that always seemed to throb in his presence.

“What was that about you not enjoying this?” his sloppy peck detached in an obscene pop, “because you sure are soaked for someone who doesn’t think it feels good to be played with… we’re gonna make you feel good, so good, your virgin ass couldn’t even fucking dream about it…” the sensation of Eddie’s palm snaked down to squeeze your tit, while Steve brought his broad thumb up to bully your glistening clit, grinning at how your untouched hole clenched around nothing for him, “just look at how fucking messy you are for us… fucking leaking all over the place…” a groan then escaped him as one of his digits dipped down to slowly sink into your tight ass, simply testing the waters before the pair of them utterly obliterated you, “fuck… you almost make me wanna keep you forever and just find a different virgin to take your place…”

#lea’s writing #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #dark!eddie munson #dark!steve harrington #dark!steve harrington smut #dark!eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #dark!steddie #dark!fic #steddie smut #dark fic #dark!steddie x reader #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine

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lowkeyerror · 19 days ago

Text

Our Soul

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: Requested, soulmate au, mostly fluff, like the smallest dash angst maybe

Summary: When searching for coven members, Agatha finds her soulmate. Her nerves about the woman being involved only grow when The Witches' Road turns out to be legit.

An: Sorry the request took so long, I did simplify it a bit I hope that it's still enjoyable.

Masterlist

Agatha made a mistake. The moment she had looked into Y/n’s eyes, she was sure of it. She’d always thought finding her soulmate would be this horrific thing. That the description of having your soul intertwined with someone else's sounded painfully, boring, and wasteful. Yet when she had it all wrong.

It was the soft pull of a flower to a summer breeze. It was if something warm finally reached her freezing soul. The souls were translucent with glowing specs shinning inside. Agatha’s, dark purple like her magic; Y/n's, golden like the tint of her irises sparkling in the sun. They twirled up together, two halves becoming one whole. Then they lay flat, into a singular form.

She visualized it, beautiful, all encompassing, and complete. However she was still horrified in some ways. She glanced at the paper with Y/n’s name scrawled across it and then back at her. It was too late to take back the offer. The way that Y/n's wyes lit up at the mention of the road was impossible to miss.

She’d have to do something about it. There was no way she was going to let her end up like the rest of the people on the list. Y/n dying was nowhere in Agatha’s plans.

Y/n made a mistake. She was sure of it when Agatha’s hand pulled her down on to the road. The way her mind had called Agatha’s hand a perfect fit for her’s. The entire reason she had agreed to come in the first place was now jeopardized. All because of Agatha’s illustrious blue eyes, her cunning smile, and the warm softness of her hand in yours.

She was here to find her soulmate. That’s all she wanted from the road. Yet here she is swooning over Agatha Harkness, known most for her treachery. It felt like she was failing her one true love.

When Agatha stops abruptly at the last step, Y/n crashes into her. Agatha is quick to tug at your wrist, pulling you back into her, rather than tumbling backwards.

“Are you alright sweetheart?”

Y/n watches Agatha’s eyes scan over her, worry easily perceived. The younger woman respond with a loose nod. She was being pulled in by the current of Agatha’s crystal-esque eyes.

“Yeah,” is all she can manage to say.

She smiles slyly knowing she had Y/n flustered. Agatha doesn’t let go of her, the older witch’s pull persisting. The older woman doesn’t trust this road. She knows it isn’t real, that this shouldn’t be happening. Whatever this is, she wouldn’t let it claim you.

While she takes charge of the others, Agatha never strays far from you. She felt like she had to protect Y/n. After the road’s first test Agatha knee she was right. Mrs. Hart was dead, and everyone was shaken up about it. Especially Y/n.

As everyone walks away from her body, Agatha falls in step with Y/n.

“How are you holding up?”

Y/n’s gaze stays on the ground she shake her head slightly, as if she expects a thought to fall out, ��I don’t know.”

“Is this your first time dealing with that kind of thing?”

Y/n tilts her head, “Agatha we’re hundreds of years old. I’m no stranger to death or dead bodies. It’s just… been a long time.”

“Right.”

“Why’d you bring her?” Y/n couldn’t help but ask.

Agatha fumbles for an answer. The truth being that she didn't think things would go this far. This was supposed to end in the basement. She would’ve stolen everyone’s powers then manipulated Mrs. Hart’s memories and she would be none the wiser. She was intended to be a placeholder not a carcass.

Y/n watches Agatha carefully wondering what kind of lie she would tell, how the woman would spin the story. Instead she sees a small dip in the character Agatha was always playing.

“I didn't think she'd get hurt,” it’s a small, but honest truth.

Agatha was scared of the woman’s response. Perhaps Y/n would call bullshit and turn on her. Everyone was always so quick to point a finger at her. She had been taking the blame since she was a child all that time ago. So it would be nothing new to her.

“I believe you.”

Y/n doesn't know why she said it. She didn't plan on responding, but something inside of her was begging her to speak. It was another flaw in her eyes, wanting to bring comfort to Agatha. The woman that was distracting her from her soul mate.

Agatha is fighting the urge to question why you believe her. She didn't deserve your trust. She’s staying to begin to believe she didn't deserve Y/n. Yet that didn't necessarily matter anymore, their souls were already intertwined.

“We should try summoning another green witch,” Y/n suggests.

It causes a bit of commotion in the group, but with no choice left, they try it.

“M’lady.”

When Rio Vidal comes crawling out of the ground Agatha lunges at her. The rest of the group is stunned by their clear complex past. Agatha’s not the only one who reacts to The Green Witch.

Y/n’s eyes widen, “Oh no.”

When Rio sees Y/n she turns away from Agatha. She stalks towards the woman, cautiously taking Y/n’s hand in her. With a charming smile she presses her lips to the backside of the younger witch’s hand.

“Mi vida.”

Agatha watches with her jaw nearly on the floor. The blush on Y/n’s face told her everything she needed to know.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Rio drops Y/n’s hand, “What? I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd come by, help out.”

“So are you a green witch?”

Before Rio responds Y/n cuts her off, “As green as it gets, let’s keep moving.”

“I like that idea,” Agatha seconds that and begins to walk off, Y/n trails behind her.

The rest of the coven eventually joins.

“So... you know Rio too?”

Agatha keeps her gaze straight ahead, “Yup.”

Y/n let’s out an amused huff of air, “Seems like we know her in the same way too.”

“It does look that way. I gotta say, I would've never guessed she was your type.”

“At one point in time I thought she was my soul mate. You have to admit under all that cunning is someone so tragically lonely, but eternally beautiful. I always doubted that love would exist without fear of her."

Agatha knew what the girl really meant when she said ‘her'. Death had an air of beauty about her not only in appearance.

“Rio is everything you said, but you forgot to add irritating,” Agatha adds.

Y/n laughs at her, “Always showing up at the most convenient times for herself. Which just so happens to be inconvenient to everyone else.”

“I can't believe you thought she was your soulmate.”

Y/n looks away bashfully, “Well you must’ve too all things considered.”

Agatha disputes the statement instantly, “I never really bought into the whole soulmate thing.” She takes a moment to look into Y/n’s eyes, “At least not until recently.”

“Why not?”

“Agatha didn't believe in any of those kind of happy ending fairytale like romances sweetheart, just not in her character,” Rio steps in between the pair to get in on their conversation.

“Something to do with you maybe?” Y/n shots at Rio.

Rio gasps in faux-shock, “No, I’m the perfect wife. Right, my love?”

Agatha rolls her eyes, “Ex-wife, current thorn in my side.”

“Aww she’s so grumpy without her magic, Y/n. She’s usually a much more cheerful spirit.”

“Fuck off,” Agatha starts walking faster.

She reaches over Rio, to grab Y/n’s wrist pulling her along in a similar way she did down the road in the first place.

Whatever conversation that was going to play out died upon seeing another trial. By the look on the witch ‘s face it was obviously Alice’s. The outfits, the rock band, the grunge of it all was a bit fun at first. Yet the fun never lasts in these things, especially when threatened by a generational curse.

The ballad was once again the key to the trial. Almost reminiscent of your way onto the road, singing the ballad helped Alice defeat her curse. However it was not without a cost, as Teen had some how gotten injured.

The responsibility fell on a group. A second trial and second death was looming over the group. The care and distress in Agatha’s movement was stark contrast to what had happened when Mrs. Hart died.

Y/n couldn’t help it as she silently asked Rio if it was the boy’s time. Lady Death stood silent, pensive, as if she herself was gauging the situation. Then she shook her head.

It was during this time that his wound was healed. Though he lay unconscious, it was general consensus that he'd be alright. While this placated the others, Agatha was not leaving his side.

The rest of the coven went to set up camp for the night. Y/n knew she wasn’t obligated to stay with Agatha and Teen, but she wanted to.

Whatever Agatha was feeling, for once it was plain on her face. The moment was fragile, something Y/n was mindful of as she sat quietly next to Agatha.

“Have you ever lost something so pivotal to your existence that without it, you no longer feel whole?”

“My brother,” Y/n’s gaze lingers on Billy.

“Do you… have you seen him in other people?”

Y/n nods, “Sometimes I can’t help it. I see someone that looks like him or likes the things he likes or acts like him, but they’re not him.”

Agatha turns her attention to Y/n. The far away look in her eye makes the older witch move close to her.

“What happened to him?”

Y/n’s bottom lips curls up into her mouth, “I happened.”

Agatha’s hand finds it’s way on top of Y/n’s. The younger witch intertwines their fingers. Y/n lets out a large breath, trying to center herself.

“My son,” Agatha whispers. “I see Teen and I see the kind of boy that mine could’ve grown to be .”

“Agatha,” Y/n says her voice softly.

Agatha clears her throat, “Let’s go see what kind of camp they’ve set up.”

She stands abruptly, but makes sure to extend her hand to the other woman. Y/n takes the help to stand. Agatha is reluctant to drop the girl’s hand, but she does. That doesn’t keep the woman away from her. Y/n walks close enough that their arms brush as the walk to camp.

When both sit, the other’s are full of laughter, reminiscing about their battle scars. Agatha shows off her's and the rest give her a roar of laughter that she didn’t expect.

The laughter dies down as Rio talks about having a scar. Something that both Agatha and Y/n know to be false. The younger of the pair can’t help, but glare as Rio spins a tale of a woman. Someone that Y/n knows to be Agatha.

A trick to rile the woman up. It works as Agatha storms off. Rio tries to go after her.

“I think you’ve done enough,” Y/n stands to stop her.

Rio raises her hands in defensive before gesturing them in the direction Agatha ran off in, “By all means then, you go after her. Just remember at the end of the road, your soulmate will be waiting for you.”

“Fuck you Rio,” Y/n goes after Agatha.

She finds Agatha just standing in a field. Y/n approaches her, moving to stand in front of Agatha. The powerless witch doesn’t look at her.

Y/n takes Agatha’s face in both of her hands. Agatha’s expression has a million facets to it. Sorrow, regret, anger, but most prevalently Y/n sees a plea.

“Death has a nasty way of lingering doesn't she?”

A single tears slides down Agatha’s cheek. Y/n wipes it away with her thumb.

Her laughter is shaky, “You didn't have to come after me.”

“Agatha, I wanted to be here,” Y/n reassure her.

“I don’t deserve you,” she leans into Y/n’s touch.

It’s like Y/n’s says it to herself when she speaks, “ I decide what I deserve.”

Agatha’s crystal blue eyes meet Y/n’s, “And what about your soulmate?”

“This isn’t about that.”

Agatha’s holds Y/n’s in place against her face, “What if it is?”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What are you saying?”

Agatha steroids out of the woman’s hold. Her hands move wildly as she talks, “Don’t you feel it? When we locked eyes, I saw our souls mixing. I know that you're too good for me. I’m this no good evil hag, with a reputation that makes dictators seem like saints. I don’t deserve to have a soulmate, especially one as good as you.”

When Y/n looks into Agatha’s eyes she feels it. She sees what Agatha saw when they first met. Their souls coming together, in what is certainly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Tears form in Y/n’s eyes. She strides over to Agatha, again cupping the woman’s face in her hands. Y/n smiles through her tears.

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

A smile fights it's way onto Agatha face, “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Agatha I’ve dated the physical embodiment of death. I don't care,” Y/n tucks a piece of Agatha’s hair behind her ear.

“I’m no good-”

Whatever Agatha had planned on saying didn’t matter to Y/n. The younger girl plants her lips on Agatha’s firmly. The older woman melts into the kiss the words dying on her lips.

“You’re good to me,” Y/n breathes out as the kiss ends.

Agatha hugs Y/n’s waist, keeping her close. Their foreheads rests against each other. The brunette’s eyes slowly open. There’s fire behind the blue orbs

“I will be, I promise.”

The road wasn’t finished and Agatha had yet to regain her power. However, she already felt more complete with Y/n in her arms. A part of her restored upon connecting with her soulmate.

#lowkeyerror #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #rio vidal #billy maximoff #agatha all along

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ctrlhope · 11 months ago

Text

Butterfly (m)

synopsis: he’s been watching you. waiting, stalking his prey. waiting for you to tangle your pretty little wings into his web. chasing you. hunting you. making you play his games until you realise the truth that lies behind your eyes.

j.jungkook x f.reader

୧ ‧₊˚┊: wc: 3.6k

୧ ‧₊˚┊: genre: yandere, serial killer au, college au, dark content

୧ ‧₊˚┊: content: yandere!killer!jk, dubcon, predator / prey, manipulation, fear play, mask kink, slight sub space, slight knife play, strangers to lovers, “public” sex, drug use (alcohol), mentions of blood / injury, threats, allusions to kidnapping, dom!jk, fingering, rough sex, he’s mean but still sweet, obsessed!soft!jk at the end <33

୧ ‧₊˚┊: notes: found this in my drafts back from halloween and i never posted it! so here you go, to hold you over until my long fics are done <33 halloween fic in april lmaooo

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Bum. Bum. Bum.

Your heartbeat is in your ears, pulse racing. It was too loud. Everything is too loud. It’s all you can hear. It’s all you can think about as your heels dig into the harsh forest floor. Your shoes long since been abandoned, mud caking your feet as you try to run. Tries to escape from the demon that had set his sights on you.

Him.

Fuck. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It really wasn’t. It was just supposed to be a fun halloween party! You didn’t really even know if you wanted to go to it or not. But your friends convinced you with the promise of free drinks and guys that were ‘cute enough’ for some random frat.

What they failed to mention? The simple fact that house was in the middle of nowhere. On one side a lake, the other a massive forest.

Like a pretty little trap meant to catch girls like you. Web tangled in the trees just watching for the prettiest butterfly to find its way into. To be caught in the den of monsters that lined every wall of the ancient house.

You were already disturbed when your friend's pretty jeep turned off the main roads, trailing through the woods. Realising just how distant from the rest of society you would be. How every bump of the car sent your little heart into a deeper flutter of anxiety.

Still, you kept your mouth shut. You didn’t want to ruin the night— for yourself or your friends. You trust them. They promised it would be fun. Plus! Their boyfriends were going to be there! So nothing would go wrong!

Yeah. It really wasn't their fault that a lunatic set his sights on you. Wasn’t their fault you started dancing with a man in a mask. Let him lead you to the backyard for a smoke, dumbly followed him deeper into the woods to see his favourite spot. Let him stuff his fingers into your little hole without even seeing his face, knowing his name.

Nah, you did all that on your own. Just a little kitten being led to the slaughter house.

“Okay babydoll…” He breathes into your ear, pumping two fingers deep inside of your cunt. Skirt that was barely covering anything pushed too far up your hips, showing the whole forest just how tight your walls cling to his fingers. How wet you are. How desperate you are for more.

“We’re gonna play a game, yeah?” You’re hardly able to respond, consciousness laced with toxins from earlier that night. Flush to your cheeks evidence enough of just how much you drank— the series of events that led you to this exact moment.

One he had been planning for awhile.

He smiles, throat letting out a low, almost nonexistent laugh. Slowly circling your clit with his thumb, almost mocking the way your back arches. Finding amusement in the way your fingers cling to his arm as his thrusts continue all to slow.

You’re needy, too needy. He knows that well enough. Can tell with the way your hips start to rock, start to squirm. The way your body starts to get bratty on him while your mind is too far in the clouds to realise the position you’ve found yourself in.

You’re cute. Too cute for him to take another second of this. Too cute for him to hold back anymore.

Wouldn’t want you getting too bratty on him anyway, would he? Then his personal treat, the slice of cake he's been waiting weeks to cut into will have to turn into a punishment. Ruin all the fun he’s worked so hard to prepare.

“‘Gonna need you to run into the woods. Fast and as far as you can…” He groans under his breath, the mere thought sending blood straight to his cock, filling his mind with nothing but pictures of you dirty on the forest floor, “And you gotta do your best to stay away from me yeah? Cause if I catch you… I gotta kill you and I wouldn't wanna have to do that… You’re too pretty to kill, you know?”

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with him? What is he even talking about?

You try to process– try to understand the words that run off his tongue. But it's unfair, everything is stacked against you as he slides the mask off his face. Gives you a first look at his deep brown eyes. Lets you see how gorgeous he is for the very first time.

He didn’t even give you a chance to recover before he started counting down from 30. Doesn’t even move his hand away from your dripping cunt until 20– the expression on your face just pathetic. So close yet so far from the finish line.

Your race was nowhere close to its end. He’d make sure of it.

It wasn’t until his hand found your hip, gently tapping against the skin that your brain even had the chance to attempt processing his words. Figure out the exact meaning behind them while his lips continued to count down with each syllable.

Such pretty pink lips. Maybe he would let you kiss them if you tried hard enough. If you lean up just right maybe he would–

Wait. Wait. What’s happening? What did he say to you?

Your eyes glance down to your thighs, vision dazed as you try to figure out the object that suddenly pokes at your flesh. The sharp tip grazing your soft skin as you take in the metal; polished to perfection. The deep black handle resting securely in his palm, holding himself back.

Your eyes widen, familiarity cresting your features.

Shit. Shit!

You don’t even think about grabbing your own knife until 15, hand quickly reaching for your hip where you keep it tucked away. Too bad he had already taken it, knew the tool you always carried with you well.

Shit, his own personal little Nancy, huh? Perfect for him.

Survival instincts had to take over for you, forcing your feet to the ground. Urging your skirt down as low as it could possibly go as your legs take off in a direction you hope is the house.

Everything is all too much, it’s not enough. Every little sound is getting to you, making you feel like you’re going crazy. Making you feel like none of your senses can be trusted. Like nothing can be trusted except for the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The woods– everything looks the same. You can't distinguish one thing from the next but you know you hear something getting closer. Too close.

If his words meant anything you need to keep fighting, keep trying to live. Even as pain stabs into your toes, sticks break under your feet. Even as you’re stabbed by bushes.

It was like the forest itself was out to get you. Like whatever beast behind it is your real enemy in all of this.

Maybe you can pretend it, maybe in your alcohol-addled brain that’s a little easier to manage than the man running behind you. The one with hunger in his heart that only your soul can satiate.

You try, you really do. But your legs can only move so fast. Can only take so much abuse before they start to slow. Lungs can only inhale so much air before they want to collapse.

Too bad he’s done this before. He can run.

And just as you start to be able to see the lights from the tree line, just as hope starts to fill your little heart, you’re forced into the dirt. Two arms wrap around you from behind, tackling your frame to the ground.

Your back presses against his chest as he keeps you there, his face right next to your ear as he pants. Breathe heavy in your ear, hearing the way it cracks every once and awhile as he tries to catch his breath. Lips almost on your ear while he keeps you there. Keeps you trapped under him.

Everything is starting to conflict in your pretty little head, body telling you to get away. Try to get him off. Wriggle your hand— anything out to try and fight back. Try and get away before he keeps his promise from before.

Yet, with every movement, every slight twist of your spine or kick of your legs under his heavy frame he only presses tighter, deeper against you. Presses his cock against your barely covered cunt. Makes you feel every inch of him that he plans to stuff inside. Make you unable to breathe while the rocks dig into your skin.

You put up a good fight, you really do. Better than anyone else. It’s too bad everything is going just a little bit haywire behind your eyes. The world starting to feel like a burden as you try to push away the arousal rushing to your gut.

Shit, you should be scared. Should be petrified of the psycho that took you into the woods, the psycho that threatened to kill you no more than ten minutes before. One that had a knife pressed to your skin and a scythe around your heart. But the chemicals in your brain are mixing into something that you can’t comprehend, can’t describe.

Everything feels like too much, he feels like too much and you have no clue what to do. Head completely gone to mush.

It’s almost easier that way.

“Almost got away, doll. But don’t worry. I’ve got you now.” His voice is rough, harsh as he tries to catch his breath. Teeth clamping against the crest of your ear, hips rolling against your cunt without a care in the world. Especially not for the state of your head. Not for the little world you find yourself slipping away into.

Too many extreme emotions happening will do that to you, won't they? Make you so confused that you’ll just take whatever you can manage. Even if that means plunging his blade into your pretty little heart or fucking you until your pussy wouldn’t even consider another filling it.

He prefers the latter. Too pretty for the former, huh?

He can feel the shift in your frame– one of extreme discomfort, entirely tense to one of a docile little pet put on display. The shift behind your eyes as everything becomes too much, little too difficult to understand. As you slip away just enough to make any feelings of pleasure elevate to new extremes. Let fear spur you on.

The only thoughts in your head are ones filled with him. The way it should be. Exactly should be.

Your hips move again, their last attempt to break free from his spell. Their last attempt to try and get away from the maniac. Yet it does nothing more than press his cock harder against your ass, the mock of a grind against the surface that leaves a pretty little mewl spilling from your lips. A grunt catching in his own.

Wow, you actually surprised him.

“Shit, not patient at all huh?” He smiles, lip quirking as he removes his body from you. Removes the only warmth provided in this hell.

You won't run. Not if you know what's good for you.

He doubts you do– led you right into his arms tonight. But that's okay. He can take over for you. Take over everything.

Hands grip your hips, pull you back against him. Let you imagine how sweet he could fuck you if you just behave. The soft rocking of hips against your own, the gentle way he moves compared to the way he holds you heavy on your mind.

You can’t help the moan that spills past your lips. The way your back arches to meet him better. No one could blame poor little you. No one could blame your mind turning off for just a little bit. Not when he has you. Not with the rough texture of his pants pushing against your cunt. Not with the ruined orgasm of before.

Arousal makes your panties stick uncomfortable to your skin. A disturbing wet patch forming against his own pants where you meet. A flutter erupting in your gut at the way he groans. Way he moves you with such ease.

He really could kill you if he wanted to.

You’re not sure if the realisation scares you or spurs you on.

It scares you more to know that it's the latter.

“I’m not either.” He huffs, air thick with fog, “Been too patient for you. Too fucking patient.”

He grunts, pushing your hips back. Back arching even farther against the forest floor. It almost hurts, it’s almost painful. Not that that really matters. Nothing matters when he grips the flesh of your ass, pulls the cheeks apart. Gets a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Can see clearly how wrecked his little girl is.

Pretty panties sticking against your cunt, thighs wobbly from all the effort of tonight. Shit, if he just hooks his finger under them, pulls them to the side he’ll get to see you all. Get to see your puffy lips, fluttering little hole. Get to fuck himself inside while you just lie there and take it. Get so drunk on his cock you might just fall in love.

Shit, maybe you already have, huh?

Good.

He forces your underwear to the side, stares in awe at the way your slick sticks to them. Imagines how pretty they’d look stuffed with his cum. How you’d tumble around the house, not letting a drop spill just for him.

Because you would know it’s what he wants.

“All of this for me?” He smiles, rubbing his thumb through your folds. Collecting your essence, spreading it around all messy just how he likes. How he knows you’ll like soon enough.

You can only whimper, clutch the ground as your head spins. Tries to catch up with every little minstration he makes. Tries to figure out what exactly is happening. What words he’s saying. How to get him to stop, if you want him to stop.

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t think you do.

You’re not sure of anything anymore. Only the sound of a zipper running down, the shuffle of pants forced off hips. The hard head of a cock running against your folds like it owns them. Like it was made for them.

The stretch as he forces himself inside. The way it burns, stings with effort. The short, forceful movements as he fucks himself inside. Makes home in your cunt for no one else but him. Makes you unable to think of a soul other than him. Ruin you for all other men that come after.

God he must be big– how fucking big? You have no clue. You wish you could see. Look into those pretty, crazed eyes. Focus on the little mole under his lip as the pain turns into pleasure. Morphs something dark in your brain to like it, to take it just like a good girl. Make you crave him more than anything else.

But instead you stare at the dirt. Hands clutching at the surface as he fucks himself inside. Deeper and deeper with each slow calculating thrust. Fucks you full of whatever twisted definition of love he possess. Makes you see the light, the exact shimmer in his eyes. See that this is the only way to truly live.

“Shit, baby,” His voice is low, deeper than before as his hips finally meet your own. Finally fills you with nothing else other than him. “Been waiting too fucking long for this. Had to make me wait, huh? Fuck.”

His voice harsh, grip bruising as he tries to hold himself back. One last measly reprise he’ll allow you. One last second he’ll give you before he makes you completely dumb. Makes you see what he knows you need to.

“I-I don’t~” You whimper, though the words fall on deaf ears. Not that it mattered anyway, you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. Didn’t know anything except for the way your walls clamp around his cock. Body begging for him, urging him to start and never stop.

He sighs, dramatic, “Little slut, huh baby?”

A harsh thrust punctuates his words, jolting your body forward as you cry. Impatience, ecstasy? He isn’t sure which. Only can notice the way your fingers clench and unclench in the dirt. The way your pussy flutters around him.

“Aww…” He soothes, hips dragging out of your cunt before slowly thrusting back in. The pace slow, antagonising, “Poor thing is having a hard time…” His hips quicken a hair, pretty sounds falling from your lips at the movement.

“Gotta tell me what you need, baby. I can make it all happen then.” A low kiss is placed against your shoulder, the world crumbling around you.

You break.

“Please…” Your voice is soft, too soft, but he hears it. Feels himself cracking as you beg, feels himself lose his mind entirely.

Beg for him. Want him.

His hips suddenly snap, fucking himself into your cunt with force you never thought a human could possibly manage. Fast, hard. Pumping his cock into you to search for his own pleasure. His own release. Forcing you to take it, take all of him while you try to keep up. Try to find your own pleasure in the tangle of limbs.

You hate how easily you do. Or maybe you love it.

“God, fuck.” He can’t suppress his own moans, the feeling of your pussy wrapping so tight around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth is too much. Fills his head with even more nonsense about love. About destiny.

His hips would never even consider stopping. You feel too good. Feel too tight around his cock, feel like he should never stop fucking you. Keep you there forever.

“So perfect. So perfect for me,” His breath is harsh, his heart racing as your little sounds only spur him on. Let him know just how good you feel. Just how far you’ve fallen. Just how much farther you’re willing to drown in all things Jungkook.

“P-Please!” You whine, hips arching further. Moving him into the perfect position to scrape against your g-spot with every rough pound of his hips. No clue what you’re pleading for. No clue what you want other than him.

Don’t even know his name. Nothing other than how incessantly you crave him.

“Fucking brat.” He cusses, eyes pinching into a glare as you somehow clamp down tighter. Walls pulling him back in on every thrust. Milking him for everything he’s worth. Making sure you both know your place in this. Know your place after it, too.

“God, been waiting for this haven’t you?” He groans, hips stuttering. He’s too close, “Been waiting for me to fuck you like the pretty doll you are? Make me take everything from you?”

You can only manage a whine in response, cunt fluttering around him. Obsessing in his praise.

Maybe his words are true. Maybe he’s known the exact type of person you are since the moment he first saw you. Maybe he’s right. This is where you’re meant to be. Meant to be with him.

“Shit, yeah. I fucking knew it.” His voice cracks, “Call you a minx but we both know that isn’t true. Just don’t know how to think until you’re stuck on the end of a cock.”

His thrusts somehow pick up speed. Fuck you harder, deeper. He’s sure he could place his hand over your tummy, feel himself fucking you. Shit.

“My cock.” He growls, voice heavy in your ears.

You can't take it anymore. Can’t take another second of it. Nerves tied tight into knots explode, white dotting the corner of your vision as you moan for no one else other than him. Pleasure courses through your veins, pussy pulling him as he falls apart alongside you. A tsunami pulling you under, making it hard to breathe. Making you feel dead and alive at the same time.

Maybe the forest gods were the ones tormenting you. Making you feel better than you had ever thought possible before. Allowing you to see the light of the stars dancing in the sky, so far above the clouds with his cock still pressed so deep inside. Floating through the air as your orgasm runs through you.

He’s no better. A shell of a man as he slowly fucks him cum deeper into your cunt. As deep as you’ll allow. Marking you. Claiming you. Making sure you know your place, even as you finally collapse onto the floor. Finally come back to reality. Poor body too spent to focus on anything else.

It’s okay though, you don’t have to worry. Not about a thing.

He’ll take care of you. Fix you up nice and pretty for your next lesson. Take you away to his apartment, make you fall in love for real. Keep you there, with him, just like you’re meant to be.

Make all of the sick sides you try to hide come out to play. Make you realise you’re just like him.

He wouldn’t kill you. Ever. Even if he had killed the others, none of them matter. He’s been waiting for someone like you for so long. Itching to bring you home. And finally, finally you had fallen into his trap. His perfect little butterfly, caught in the web. Ready to be corrupted by the vicious spider. Ready for your wings to be clipped.

“Mine.”

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