#that are in the same street i’ll be in and told him to do it!!! he’s super sweet and skilled and deserves better than this place

[speedywizardland]

Title: “Eyes Like a Knife”

Geum Seong je x Reader

You first noticed him during gym class.

It wasn’t anything overt—just a glance that lingered a second too long as you passed him in the hallway. Geum Seong-je had a reputation: silent, sharp-eyed, with a temper buried so deep even the teachers tread lightly. You weren't friends. You’d barely spoken to him.

So why did it feel like he was watching you?

At first, you brushed it off. Coincidence. He just happened to be behind you after school. Just happened to be at the same convenience store. Just happened to be on the same bus, even though he lived in a completely different district.

But the coincidences started piling up.

One day, you opened your locker and found your books rearranged—not missing, not stolen. Just moved. Another time, your umbrella was gone, only to be returned to your desk, still wet. Then there was the text you received from an unknown number:

"You shouldn’t walk alone after dark. People are dangerous."

You blocked the number.

But that didn’t stop the feeling of being hunted.

You started noticing little things: your desk at school had tiny scratches on it—patterns, circles, like someone had traced something over and over. Your shoes were tied differently when you changed for P.E., even though you were sure you'd double-knotted them. Once, your phone buzzed in your pocket with a photo notification—your house. Taken from the alley across the street.

You tried to confront him once.

He was alone on the rooftop, where he often went to be by himself. You opened the door, your heart hammering, and said, " Seong-je. Stop following me.”

He didn’t even look surprised.

Instead, he turned his head slightly and said, “I’m not following you. I’m protecting you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you demanded.

Finally, he looked at you. His eyes were cold, unreadable, like slate under ice.

“You don’t know them like I do,” he said. “People. They’ll hurt you. Betray you. I’ve seen it happen. I’m just making sure it doesn’t happen to you.”

He stepped forward once, and your instincts screamed to run.

“You’re not in danger when I’m around,” he said, softly. “But you will be if I’m not.”

You left. You told yourself you weren’t scared. That he was just weird, just paranoid.

But you stopped taking the bus. You changed your route home every day. You stopped answering unknown numbers. And yet—he was still there. Just far enough to not be caught. Just close enough that you felt his eyes burning between your shoulder blades.

It reached a boiling point one night.

You were walking home late after cram school when you heard footsteps behind you. You sped up. So did they. You turned into a side street, heart pounding—and there he was. Geum Seong-je, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, lit by the glow of a flickering streetlight.

“Why won’t you listen?” he said.

You took a step back.

He stepped forward. “Someone’s been following you—but it’s not me. Not only me.”

Then you heard another pair of footsteps. Real ones. Behind you.

You turned.

Someone in a hood was standing there, face obscured.

“See?” Seong-je said, his voice eerily calm. “I wasn’t stalking you. I was keeping them away.”

The figure lunged at you—but Seong-je moved faster. A flash of movement, a brutal thud, and the hooded figure crumpled to the pavement, groaning.

You stared at him in shock.

He didn’t look at the attacker. Only at you.

“Now do you understand?” he asked.

You couldn’t speak. You nodded, barely.

He reached forward and fixed the collar of your jacket, as if brushing away invisible dust.

“I’ll always be watching,” he murmured. “Even if you don’t see me.”

And then he disappeared into the shadows again, leaving you shaken, confused, and more afraid than before.

Because now you didn’t know what was worse:

The danger you saw coming…

or the one you didn’t.

[moonshapedbox]

put my two weeks notice in at work today and no one tells u how hard it is to say goodbye to everyone…i was so blessed to love and be loved by so many of my coworkers and i’m gonna miss them so bad :(( i had to say goodbye to a lot of the ones i was close with today and it was so difficult i teared up multiple times….their reactions were so sweet and encouraging and some of them hugged me….i’m gonna miss them so so much bc they made that place bearable for the last year and a half and it’s gonna be hard not seeing them anymore….and idk i feel sad bc i don’t feel like i have enough time to say goodbye and thank everyone and tell them what a positive impact they had on me

[tojifiles]

༯ warnings. mature content, fem!reader + toji fushiguro, unprotected sēx, piv, pwp. minors do not interact, please and thank u.

wc. 1.7k (not proofread ���)

toji fushiguro is a nice guy.

not in the annoying “i’m a nice guy why won’t women date me” way, but in the “i’ll fix your sink, walk your dog, and probably kill a man for you if you say please” kinda way.

the ex-assassin (and your next door neighbor) is always doing something for someone— mowing the lawn for mrs. takada across the street, teaching the neighborhood kids how to patch a flat tire like he’s not patched gunshot wounds with duct tape before. probably hand-knits blankets for stray cats behind closed doors too.

so when he sees you wrestling with a massive ikea box on your porch that you honestly never stood a chance against in the first place, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“fuck is in here, a whole corpse or somethin’?” he jokes, like he didn’t just pluck the box from your arms, like it was filled with feathers and not the broken promises of swedish furniture.

you give him an airy laugh, wiping sweat from your brow as you tell him it’s your new bed from ikea.

“ikea?” he repeats, like you just told him it really was a corpse in that god forsaken box. “yeah, nah. you’re not building that.”

you blink. “i’m not?”

“uh, did i not just say no? i’ll handle it. don’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you losing a finger over some overpriced planks and an allen wrench.”

and listen. you could’ve argued. you could’ve said you’re an independent woman, with your crappy youtube tutorials and a rusty ol’ hammer.

but instead you just say,

“. . .do you want water or beer?”

god, you swear your bedroom has never felt this small.

toji’s presence takes up space like he was built for it—one knee down, the other bent, thighs straining against those well-worn jeans like they’re one bad movement from tearing right at the seams. his tank is drenched, clinging like it’s got a personal vendetta, outlining every broad inch of him like a glove.

he’s hunched over the partially assembled bed, brows furrowed, scarred lips parted in quiet concentration like he’s studying scripture, not step six of some swedish-coded nightmare.

and it’s filthy, the way your brain strayed, drinking in the way he moved—tight, efficient, obscene without even trying.

every low grunt, every flex of his arms, every time he shifts and that heavy chain around his neck clinks against sweat-slick skin—it’s like you're watching the start of a bad porno.

your gaze drops, uninvited, right to the swell of his chest—broad and heaving—and lower, past the way his shirt clings to his dreadfully slutty waist, all the way to the waistband of his jeans.

the way they sit, low and loose, slung across those hips like temptation incarnate—

“you good over there, sweetheart?” his voice breaks through the haze, all casual and smug. “been eyein’ me reeaall hard over there.”

you choke.

“oh, uh—i was…” you mutter, blinking like an idiot, “just… making sure you’re not screwing m- it up.”

he hums, not even looking at you, allenkey twisting slow in his grip.

“mm. real thorough inspection you’re doing.”

your a/c is blasting, full arctic tundra, and yet here you are—skin flushed, thighs clenched, your mind absolutely nosediving into the filthiest trenches imaginable.

you open your mouth about to retort back, but he cuts you off with a simple, expectant:

“wrench.”

just that. hand out. palm grasping. not even looking at you.

you pass him the tool, and your fingers brush his. his hand is warm, rough - those thick, ragged fingers that have probably shot bullets into yakuza leaders skulls, probably broken bones, lingering just a beat too long.

and suddenly you’re not thinking about this stupid swedish furniture anymore.

you’re thinking about those same fingers digging into your hips.

gripping the back of your neck.

pressing into your thigh as he—

“you gonna let go, or you just like holdin’ my hand?”

you snap out of your. . trance, retracting your hand like the wrench had transformed into molten lava and burned it. “just um, didn’t wanna drop it. s-safety first, right?”

“riight, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

even though it’s your bed, he hasn’t let you touch a single piece of it. 

not one panel. not one sad screw.

and it’s not like you didn’t offer to help—you did, multiple times!

yet every single time, he just waved you off like you were a gnat.

“jus’ sit n’ look pretty. this ain’t a group project,” he utters, dead serious. you open your mouth once more to argue, and all he sends you is a glare— playful, yet still warning.

and after three long, sweaty hours,

you—

no.

he is finally done.

toji leans back on his heels, wiping beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand “there,” he grunts, satisfied. “all done miss.”

you glance at the bed. it does look good. solid. intimidatingly so. 

“looks sturdy,” you murmur, and toji hums in agreement. thick fingers drag slow over his stubbled chin as he leans back, marveling at his piece of work.“mm. might wanna test it out first, though.”

you blink. “…test it?”

he nods, rolling his shoulders, towering and terrible, that glint in his eye nothing short of criminal.

“how ‘bout i help ya out, yeah? call it uhh, ‘mandatory safety inspection’ .”

ᥫ᭡.

“ngh, to-tojiii,” you mewl, nails grasping helplessly at the cushioned mattress beneath you, your glossed dolly eyes fluttering back with each filthy fuckin’ thrust. his strokes are relentless, sharp, each one leaving a raucous snap from his toned v-line on your poor sore thighs.

for such a ‘sweet’ and ‘beloved’ guy, his dick game sure was mean as hell.

“atta girl, look at that,” he grunts, “takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

your swollen bottom lip is caught between your teeth, an embarrassingly desperate attempt at concealing these lewd noises toji is managing to string out of your chest.

but with the way he’s fucking into you like this, those calloused, worn palms spreading the fat of your ass to give him a front-row view of how his cock is sinking in and out of you, before raising his hand to give it a nice hefty spank—

it’d be damn near impossible to not stay quiet.

your body feels so hot, practically melting as your spine arches further with each roll of his firm hips. the pads of his fingers are digging into the plush of your waist, burning against your skin like he’s trying to brand you with his hands alone.

toji sloows his pace, not enough to give you a break, but enough to make sure you feel all ten inches of him, that evilly thick stretch making your walls stutter. his chest dips down your spine, peppered stubble scratching at the nape of your neck as his full weight sinks over you.

“uh uh, shhh,” toji croons hotly, his breath warm as he leaves a wet kiss along the shell of your ear, “you hear that?”

“h-huh?” you hiccup, and he’s got you soo dumb off his dick that your surprised your still coherent.

“girl. listen.”

and you do. or try to, atleast.

your breathing slows just enough to catch it, between the wet slaps of skin and your pulse bursting in your ears—

creak… creak… creak….

“looks like she’s startin’ to talk,” he murmurs. “guess i forgot to tighten all the screws. oops.”

haha. you'd roll your eyes if they weren’t already damn near in your skull.

toji’s body shifts, swole chest hefted on your back as his beefy arms cage you in. he’s got one hand curled around your wrist, pinning it to the matress, while the other bruisingly grips your waist.

your plushed thighs quiver, ass rippling back with each fluid snap of his hips. he’s so deep, his entire length bottoming out in your sobbing cunt. landing countless blow after blow on that poor spongy spot of yours.

“f-fuuck,” it slips out breathy, caught between a gasp and a whine, your voice cracking with each draaag of his cock. “s’too much— i can’t—”

“yea you can,” toji huffs. “already are.”

creaking turns into clattering, death rattles now, and he’s still not stopping nor slowing. every hit leaves the mattress screaming, legs of the frame wobbling as it lurches underneath the weight of you both.

and your bed isn’t the only thing ready to give out eithet.

“ ‘m gonna, hnnghh— m’ gonna cumm, toj’ ” you sob, shuddering as your core tightens.

“shiit, thaaat’s it,” he pants as your pussy swallows him oh so snugly, and you can feel him start to throb inside of you. “ let ‘toj’ feel you cum ‘round his cock, baby.”

toji’s strokes sloppen, grinding now, likes he’s trying to engrave each and every inch of his cock into your unforgivingly tight cunt. your hips begin to spasm as your pretty glossed lips sputter out mindless, repetitive catches of his name.

he sends one more thrust, mean and s—

crack!

that poor lil’ ikea bed of yours sinks beneath you with a jarring snap, the headboard dipping rudely as one stubby leg snaps completely off— making you and toji slip forward with it.

you yelp, yet it slips into a broken moan as splotches of white fill your blurred vision, body jerking as your saccharine juices spill out onto him.

you let out a pouty whine, lashes fluttering as toji groans, gutturally, his posture stiffening, jaw hanging slack before you feel him begin to spill into you—sticky hazed shades of white rudely painting your insides like his own personal canvas.

the scent of sweat and sex hangs heavily in the air, the only sounds being you and toji left panting. he stills momentarily, assuring his sticky load is plunged deep enough inside of you before easing out with a sharp hiss.

“guess she, uh, failed the inspection,” clicking his tongue as he breaks the silence, acting all disappointed despite the way he’s grinning like a fucking fool— as if he didn’t just knock all you and your beds screws loose.

“you’re buying me a new bed.” you mutter, voice hoarse as your shooting him a mascara stained glare over your shoulder.

“ ya’ gonna let me break her in too?”

and it’s not like you decline— it’d be rude if you did. .

because toji fushiguro is a nice guy, after all.

@ssorenz™ do not, copy, repost or translate anywhere without my knowledge.

[oceantornadoo]

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still my wife.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

----

idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately

[a-casxandra]

I seriously love your writings both of caleb and rafayel......! You literally ate!.....And i know you are gonna write zayne next but i really wanna see them regret more like how about a part three where they see you with some man and their jealousy spikes (but the man is like just a friend or relative)....and when they pull you away to some other place to talk in private you tell them that's how you felt when they were with mc but you are not like them...and blah blah blah angst angst angst....pretty please

🥺🥺

❝𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗧𝗢 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦.❞

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒆 | 𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍 𝒙 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (𝒏𝒐𝒏-𝒎𝒄)

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓 | 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃 𝒙 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒏-𝒎𝒄)

It had been six months.

Six months since he last saw you.

Six months of scrolling through his camera roll, hoping your face would blink back to life.

Six months of unfinished messages in his drafts.

Six months of pretending to move on, while being stuck in the same moment you walked away.

Rafayel saw you again on a Sunday.

Bright day. Warm air. People laughing around a pop-up market near white sand bay.

And there you were—laughing too.

Wearing a white sundress. Hair tied up in a loose bun. Holding an iced drink, chatting with some guy. He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Well-dressed. Probably kind.

Rafayel froze mid-step. A sharp breath lodged in his throat like a punch to the lungs.

You were smiling.

You looked… okay.

Without him.

And that hurt more than anything.

The man leaned in to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. Rafayel didn’t think.

He moved.

Before he could stop himself, he crossed the street, pushed through the crowd, and grabbed your wrist.

You gasped.

“Rafayel?” Your voice was pure shock.

The man stepped in instantly, protective. “Who the hell are you?”

But Rafayel’s eyes were only on you.

“Can we talk?” he asked, breath shaky. “Please. Just a few minutes.”

You looked at your companion, then back at him. “…It’s okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”

You always were too kind.

You walked to a quieter part of the bay, away from the crowds. Rafayel didn’t speak at first. He just stared.

“You look good,” he murmured finally.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “So do you. I saw the awards you won. Congrats.”

It felt like poison.

He didn’t care about the awards. Not when you weren’t in the crowd, cheering.

Then he snapped. “Who is he?”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” His tone was colder than intended.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “He’s my cousin, Rafayel.”

He shut up.

“God,” you muttered. “You really haven’t changed, have you?”

Rafayel took a shaky breath.“I thought I saw you happy with him. I thought—”

“You thought I forgot you?” You looked at him now. Really looked. “You think I just walked away and stopped feeling anything?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t know. You never answered my texts. You shut me out completely.”

“Because you already shut me out first.” Your voice trembled. “I begged for your attention. I waited on you. I stood in the shadows, loving you silently while the world shipped you with her. I told myself it was just acting. That you’d come back home to me every time. But you didn’t. Not really.”

"i was stupid." he whispered. “I didn’t see what I was losing.”

“No,” you said, eyes glossy now. “You saw. You just didn’t care until it was gone.”

Rafayel felt the ache throb harder than ever. “I care now.”

You looked away. “Too late.”

Silence fell between you like an ocean.

“I still love you,” Rafayel said, voice cracking.

You shut your eyes at that. “And I’ll probably always love you. But love doesn’t fix trust, Rafayel. It doesn’t erase being forgotten.”

He nodded slowly. Pain blooming behind his ribs.

“I’m not asking for another chance,” he said quietly. “I just… I wanted to hear your voice again. To know if you ever missed me.”

You turned to him then. “I missed you every night I cried myself to sleep,” you said. “I missed you every time I saw your face on a billboard and knew that smile wasn’t mine anymore.”

A long pause.

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

“No,” you said gently. “I mourned you. That’s worse.”

Rafayel swallowed hard. You stepped back, and he felt you slip through his fingers all over again.

“I hope you find someone who chooses you every day,” you said. “Even when the cameras are off.”

He blinked fast. “And I hope you find someone who never makes you feel like a secret.”

You nodded. Then gave him the softest smile.

“Goodbye, Rafayel.”

As you walked away—back to your cousin, to your laughter, to your healing—Rafayel stood frozen, shoulders trembling, heart hollowed out.

He got his closure.

He got his answer.

But he never got you again.

It was a bookstore.

Of all places, it had to be that damn bookstore.

Caleb hadn’t even meant to go in. He was just wandering—haunted, really. Some part of him was always retracing the places you'd once gone together, like maybe memory could substitute for presence.

Then he saw you.

Poetry aisle. Laughing. With someone else.

Your smile hit him like a truck.

The guy beside you was tall. Kind-looking. He leaned close—too close. Your hand brushed his. You didn’t flinch. You laughed again, head tilted, that same way you used to tilt it with him.

Caleb’s stomach twisted.

Jealousy. Regret. Panic. All-consuming.

He moved before he thought, crossing the store and standing right behind you. “Hey.”

You turned. A flicker of surprise crossed your face. “Caleb?”

The man beside you stiffened slightly. Caleb didn’t care.

“We need to talk,” he said, voice low, sharp. “Now.”

You blinked, instantly guarded. “Excuse me?”

“Please,” he said, this time quieter. “Just—five minutes.”

You exchanged a glance with the man beside you—calm, collected, not threatened. He nodded once, as if giving you the choice. “I’ll be right back,” you told him softly.

You followed Caleb. Not willingly—but not resisting either.

He led you out the side door, into the quiet alley behind the building. The moment it closed behind you, the air shifted. Old ghosts crept in.

You crossed your arms. “What is this?” you asked.

Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “I saw you. With him. I just—I lost it.”

You stared. “So?”

“So I couldn’t handle it,” he blurted. “Seeing someone else make you laugh like that. It felt like being erased.”

You tilted your head. “Funny. That’s exactly how I felt when you forgot how to love me.”

He flinched.

“I know I don’t have the right,” he whispered. “But I can’t lie to you. I haven’t moved on. I haven’t been able to.”

“Caleb,” you said softly. “What are you doing?”

“I want to start over,” he said. “Not as who we were. As who we could be. Coffee. A conversation. One small step—”

You shook your head.

He stopped.

“I’m not angry anymore,” you said. “And I’m not bitter. But I’m done.”

His eyes searched yours. “You’re really saying that?”

“I waited,” you whispered. “I gave you chances. You wasted them. Now I’ve learned to build a life where I don’t have to be someone’s second thought.”

Tears burned at the corner of his eyes. “But I still love you.”

“I believe you,” you said. “But love isn’t enough. Not when it comes too late.”

He reached out, then stopped himself. “So that guy…?”

“My cousin,” you said again, almost tiredly.

Caleb blinked.

You offered a soft, almost sad smile. “It’s not jealousy that should’ve brought you here. It should’ve been realization. It should’ve been me.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were,” you agreed. “But that’s not my burden to carry anymore.”

Silence.

Wind passed between you both like a closing chapter.

“I hope you find peace,” you said gently. “And next time—don’t wait until it’s over to say what matters.”

You stepped back, and this time, he didn’t stop you.

Just stood there, like a man watching a door close on the version of himself he’d only just begun to love again.

You disappeared back into the store, the world, your future.

And Caleb stayed in the alley—

Finally, alone.

Truly.

Utterly.

Alone.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 : my actual plan was to have them get back together. but then i remember, you can't heal using the same method that hurted you. so yeah, i gave them closure instead. but don't worry i'm gonna give all of them happy ending! (●'◡'●)

[trickbxbes]

ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʏ

[ᴅᴀᴇ ʜᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Summary: After the Mingle game, your friends win the vote and get to go home. You reunite with Dae-Ho on the outside and finally get to go on that date.

Warnings: Eventual smut, friends to lovers speedrun, fem reader, switch! Dae-Ho, handjobs, mutual blowjobs, fingering, p in v, safe sex, I don’t know what happens to them right after they vote to leave. Only what happens after,

Word Count: 3,769 words

You couldn’t believe it, was it too good to be true? 51 votes for X, 49 votes for O. Everyone around you on your side cheered, wept with joy and relief. The nightmare was over. And you wouldn’t go home empty handed either. 300 million was enough for you to clear your debt, finally start over.

And maybe, not alone.

You feel arms wrap around you tightly, shaking you like a Ragdoll. It was Dae-Ho. The two of you had formed a bond since being in here. The friendship was instant. His bright and bubbly personality pulling you in like a moth to a flame. Only, there was no pain. He looked out for you every step of the way. You were inseparable. The two of you even arranging a date of sorts once on the outside. You remember how he asked too, the boy was nervous, prepared to laugh the idea off painfully if rejected.

In disbelief, you slowly wrap your arms back around the man. Everything fell silent to your ears. Dae-Ho screams out with joy alongside his mentor, Jung-Bae, before looking at you again. He had the brightest of grins on his face. He cupped the sides of your face briefly, so happy, he could kiss you.

Could.

He lets go of your face after tenderly gazing into your eyes. You step forward and tightly hug him close, finally allowing everything to process. You were going home. You were safe.

Dae-Ho’s also overwhelmed with emotion, embracing you close. His hand gently pets the back of your hair, pressing his head against it. His heart was soaring with relief, and care, knowing you’d be okay.

“We did it…”

He murmured. You’re barely able to hear him through the cheers. “Yeah… we’re going home.” You chuckle weakly.

But the world wouldn’t grant you a moment of peace, no, not for a second.

“Please line up, you will be escorted out in an orderly fashion the same way you were brought in.”

It all came crashing down. You were leaving, now. You and Dae-Ho break apart quick at the realization. Guards were already pouring in. There’s so much you wanted to say, goodbyes you had to give! Team O did something helpful for once though, they bought you time as they started to argue against this.

“W-we’re leaving now…?!”

You see more guards taking control of the situation. People were being separated. You look to Dae-Ho, who was just as unsure and panicked. But then he visibly lightens up with realization.

“The korean barbecue place I told you about! Meet me there in two days! Noon!”

He tried to reach out to you, but the crowd began to push. You felt your anxiety beginning to slow at his request. You didn’t have his phone number, or his address, hell, you didn’t even know what area he lived in, but that was a start. You nod vigorously.

“O-Okay! I’ll see you there!”

A relived smile befalls Dae-Ho, knowing he at least got that out before he’s ushered away.

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Two days passed, and you were at the place to be. It was a tough, settling back. You swore you’d never see the light of day again. Waking up on a cold street while half naked wasn’t exactly a pleasurable experience. Neither was choking out a card in your mouth, but alas. But you got your shit sorted, and now you were here.

Only issue now was, you didn’t know what time to arrive! You wanted to play it safe and meet a little early, wearing your best. You didn’t exactly know how much effort to put into this. What do you wear to something like this? Was it a date? Or a meetup with a crush? Or, a meet with just a friend?

You wait, and wait. An hour passed, then two.

You looked like a madman from how much you kept looking about.

But then it hit you.

What if he doesn’t show?

What if he didnt feel the same?

What were you thinking? That a man you knew for three days would have such strong feelings for you? Maybe you got your hopes up. Maybe he was too busy for you. You frown to yourself, your breathing getting faster. From where you sat, you hugged yourself. You were a miserable sight.

But then, like an angel’s choir, you hear,

“(Y,n)!”

It was slightly distant. Your head snapped up at the all too familiar voice. Making their way through the bustling crowd, was Dae-Ho. His hair wasn’t tied in his usual top knot, but down, letting the fluff bounce freely. The once unforgiving sunlight was now shining on the man like a star, only making him glow. He maneuvers his way through the mass and pops out holding a bouquet of ruby red roses. He pants, standing in front of you with that nervous smile of his.

“I-I’m so sorry, were you waiting long? There’s two different ones here. The one I went to was all the way across— a-and I waited and waited before I realized you were probably here! And—“

You’re unable to stay away any longer. You stand up and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him close. Dae/Ho stops his rambles, instead, tucking an arm around your waist and holding you close, his other arm holding the flowers. “A-are you okay?” He asks with concern. You smile ear to ear, chuckling.

“I’m just really happy to see you, Dae-Ho.”

Your response made the boy sigh in relief, happy he didn’t upset you.

“I am too, really. I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

You’d pull away, still smiling joyously. Finally, you address the flowers in his hands. “Oh my gosh…!” You take them, giddy as a kid on their birthday. Dae-Ho smiles brightly at your enjoyment.

“I hope they’re not damaged or anything… I kinda sprinted everywhere to make it here.”

He confesses. You don’t notice a single flaw, but you also don’t care to notice. “I love them.” You solidify your appreciation. Dae-Ho looks up at the restaurant sign and back to you, licking his lips a moment. “You ready to go inside?” He sticks his hand out for you to take. Your heart felt full, and you take his hand. Butterflies fluttering along in your stomach.

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┊ ┊ ⋆˚         

✧. ┊         

⋆ ★

The day didn’t end there. Dae-Ho took you out to see all the sights there were to see in his town. The two of you hand in hand, throughout the day, you didn’t drop your roses. From checking out different shops, interacting with street performers, and getting some sweet treats. Life hasn’t been so terrible since you both no longer had terrible debts to worry about. Even if it was blood money, and came with such terrible trauma, at least you wouldn’t have to go through it alone. You had someone to lean on through it.

Now, you two ended up at one of the hotels. You were sitting outside on one of the fountains, scrolling through your phone with laughter. “Aww, this one’s cute!” The two of you were admiring photos of today. You had taken a special liking to the man giving a cute peace sign over some deserts. Dae-Ho huffs, but couldn’t get his grin off his face.

“You don’t think I look dorky? I can take a more manly photo for you if you want.”

To prove his point, he’d flex his arm muscle. You giggle, patting his shoulder before you simply rest your hand there.

“I think you look perfect.”

Something about the way you said it, made Dae-Ho gulp subtly. His dark eyes gazing at you with awe. To calm his quick beating heart, he deflects off of him.

“I… wanna do this again, sometime.”

The ball was now in your court. Your heart skipped a beat. You look down a little bashfully.

“Y’know, I was kinda afraid for a while you didn’t… Y’know… That maybe it was just the heat of the moment from the games.”

Dae-Ho’s eyes widen. He lets out a dry chuckle, casting his eyes away. “Time went by differently for me there, I think. It honestly felt like I was there with you for a lot longer than it actually was.” He says truthfully. His exterior that was once shining, was now shy. You don’t say anything, allowing him to continue.

“Every second I spent with you, is all I wanted to do with my time.”

He looks back to you, his words carried a weight heavier than any boulder. You bring your hands to your lap, setting the roses aside. A crooked smile forms on your face as you shyly glance at your thighs.

“Well, it’s good to know I’m not crazy then… because I felt the same.”

When you look back to Dae-Ho, you see him gazing with an expression you’re unable to pinpoint. A mixture of adoration, and yearing. His pupils dart toward your lips, and then back to your eyes. He gulps again, unable to meet them for long. But you got the hint. You purse your lips, and gently cup his face. It regains his attention immediately. He’s close, you can feel the heat from his skin, his breath on your hand. He looks at your lips again, and leans in. You meet him halfway, and the two of you share a loving kiss. His lips molded with yours almost perfectly, like that’s where they were meant to be.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

┊ ┊ ⋆˚         

✧. ┊         

⋆ ★

The next thing either of you knew, you’re trading kisses as Dae-Ho tries unlocking the door to his apartment complex. Your kissing was passionate, forward. All of your want and need was transferred which each tongue exchange.

As soon as you’re both inside, the man shuts the door and you press him against it, not breaking the kiss for a sweat. He moans softly against your lips, his tone urging his desire forward. Your kiss grew sloppier, but consistent as you run your hasty hands under his shirt. Feeling his toned stomach, you press your body against him further. You drew another moan out of Dae-Ho, the male gasping and breaking the kiss so he could say,

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t e-expecting company so…ngh…”

You were barely listening, leaving pecks down his neck. Little nips to his skin lead to full love bites. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since I watched you play gongi…” You leave a trail of hickeys on his once clean neck. Dae-Ho brings his finger to his lips, biting down to muffle his whimpers. “W-what do you mean?” He gasps as you release his skin with a ‘pop.’ You meet his eyes, lust shadowing yours.

“‘Wanted to feel those hands on me.”

You take his hands and place them on your hips. He meets your mouth again, his tongue intertwining with yours in a messy dance. His hands run up your sides and then down to your ass, finally finding a resting point to the back of your thighs. “Fuck…”

For once the male was happy to live in a studio. You push him onto the bed, letting him scramble to take off his shirt. You slowly slide down to the ground on your knees. He gazes at you with such kindness and appreciation. He wanted you to feel it, somehow. There was a sea of emotion he was withholding, but you saw lust was the strongest in the waves.

“(Y,n)…”

You look up to him with doe eyes, sending rushes of hunger through him. “Can I…?”

His breathing was uneven, trembling, he nods.

“P-please…” He pulls his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free. He was already half hard, and it only grew as you close your hand around it. You admire its length, its width, and most of all, you feel the way it throbbed for you as it grew in your hand. You gave it a few test pumps, making your man bite his lip to stifle a whimper. Once he was fully hardened, you sped up your pace. Dae-Ho whines out, ever the vocal one. But it’s not like you minded, in fact, you encouraged it.

“You’re being so good for me, Dae-Ho…”

Hearing your praise, the male lets out another moan, his eyes closing. You feel his member twitch in your hand. “Oh? You liked that didn’t you? Wanna be called a good boy?” As soon as the words left your mouth, Dae-Ho moans loudly. He looks down at you with half lidded eyes.

“Oh shit…”

You lower your mouth over his throbbing member, keeping your touch ever so soft. The man leans back, looking to the ceiling. “Oh fuck…!” He grips the bedsheets beside him. For a brief moment, he nearly grabs your hair, but he stops himself. Instead, he gently runs his fingers through your hair. The way he held back to be a gentleman, it only made you wetter. You use one hand to pump his base while you sucked on the rest. Your other hand slid down under your bottoms, rubbing your already wet cunt. When Dae-Ho notices, his face somehow flushes more. “A-are you…?” To answer, you hum an eager note on his cock, sending vibrations down it.

“Fuck~! Ah…I—“ He’s unable to really keep his train of thought on track as another low groan rumbles through him. “Oh my God—“ He just mindlessly babbled on as you took him deeper. He’d involuntarily jerk his hips upward, and you felt the tip reach the back of your throat. Your gag made Dae-Ho immediately check in, concerned. “I-I’m sorry! Are you— fuck!”

But you didn’t care much, speeding up your motions. You take him in even deeper, now deep throating him. It hurt a little, but you cared more about the sweet tune of Dae-Ho’s whines. It might be your new favorite song.

“(Y-Y,n)…! Keep going like that and I’m g-gonna…I’m…!”

He was close, you could feel it. And so you continued your usual motions before showing special attention to his tip, his most sensitive spot. Dae-Ho grit his teeth and cried out, his back arching as he came. His shadow looked glorious, the way it mirrored his position and his gasps. It was almost like a painting, a work of art.

White hot strings enter your mouth, and you swallow it all. You blink up at him, removing your lips and clicking your tongue. Dae-Ho’s expression was priceless, his vulnerability was shown, the walls were down. “(Y,n)…” He cups your face and pulls lightly, a silent gesture he wants you to rise. You do so gracefully and stop. Seeing as the man was basically naked for you, you thought you should return the favor. Dae-Ho watches you slowly strip, undoing your outfit completely. He shakily sighs,

“You’re so beautiful…”

Once bare, you meet him in a ravenous kiss. Your hands hold the sides of his jaw as he wraps his arm around your waist. He whimpers against your lips, rolling you over so you were on your back, not breaking the kiss for a second. Dae-Ho gently takes both of your hands and pin them above your head, one hand having a grip on your wrists. You lament, feeling more aroused in such a helpless position.

He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting you both. He admires you, your returned flushed face staring back at him lustfully. He leans back down, kissing down your neck. His touch was so sweet, feather light. Every kiss was gentle, as if you were delicate. He kissed down your body, stopping at your chest. His eyes meet yours again, asking for permission. You nod, gulping subtly. He’d continue, muttering,

“You deserve to be worshipped.”

He trails his tongue around your nipple and plants a peck on the top, before taking your breast into his mouth. Somehow, he knew the exact way to worship you. He sucked at the perfect intensity and rhythm. With his other hand, he massages your other breast. You loved the way he treated you.

“Dae-Ho…”

It sent waves of pleasure up your body. He started to work his way down, reaching your drenched pussy.

“God, you’re soaked…”

His tongue meets your dripping hole, running through your folds. You cry out, gripping his hair lightly. “Dae-Ho…! Fuck..” You feel his tongue swirl around your clit. The wet muscle circling as he sucked on the pearl. He started eating you out like he was damned starving. You massage his scalp, gripping every now and then. But then, you feel a wave of pleasure shoot through you as Dae-Ho inserts a finger. “Fuck…!” You whine, your eyes now shut. Sucking on your clit, he adds another, pushing them both in and curling his fingers. Your back arches as you’re shocked from too much stimulation.

“I-It’s too much…! D-Dae-Ho! Fuck. T-too m-much!”

“You can take it.”

His immediate response makes your orgasm race forward faster than you can blink. He continues pushing his fingers in an out of you, curling them each time and abusing your G spot. You cry out his name as you finish all over his face, unable to warn him in time. But he just laps up your juices like any other meal.

Dae-Ho looks back up at you with dreamy eyes. He’s met with your panting and flushed expression. You reach your hands out, trying to beckon him closer.

“Dae-Ho… j-just kiss me please!”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he slams his lips on yours, crawling back atop your body. You grind against his now hard again cock, moaning against him. Soft hums and grunts come from his throat and vibrate on your skin. You pull back, needing to feel him inside of you for certainty. “D-do you have a condom?” Your question catches him off guard, but it’s a necessary one. Dae-Ho blinks and nods. “Yeah— one second.” He kisses your cheek, making you smile as he scrambles to grab one.

As soon as he rolled one on, he’s back on top of you, gazing into your eyes once more. You swear you could see an entire night sky in his dark orbs. “Dae-Ho…” You kiss him again, he more than happily reciprocates. He breathes in through his nose, breathing in you. He lines up his cock with your entrance, pulling back to cup your face.

“Do you want this?”

Consent is a beautiful and mandatory thing. He caresses your cheek with his thumb. You nod, resting your hand atop his with a kind smile.

“I want you, Dae-Ho.”

Dae-Ho leans in and kisses you softly. His lips softly trying to tell you, ‘I’ve got you.’

He slowly enters you, his hands now gripping your hips. You grimace, adjusting to his length. Dae-Ho intertwines his fingers with yours on the bedsheets, giving a reassuring squeeze. His eyes were clamped shut, soft shudders escaping him as he continued in. “Fuck… (Y,n)…”

He bottoms out, and you’re a whimpering mess. Dae-Ho, despite being in a similar position, slants over and kisses up your neck. His lips comforting you generously.

“That’s it… that’s my girl.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah… yeah, fuck, your girl.”

He starts to move slowly, his breathing shaky from ecstasy. He mewls in your ear, biting his lip at an attempt to keep quiet. But you weren’t going to let that slide. “…Wanna hear you… wanna hear how good you feel.” You order. Dae-Ho’s hips stutter before he speeds up his thrusts. He lets out a louder whimper, you match his vocals, gripping his shoulders.

“D-Dae!”

“(Y,n)…!”

He holds you closer to him, his thrusts getting faster and deeper. His body was warm. You could feel his muscles tensing with every push and movement.

“Tell me I’m yours,”

He starts, his voice dripping with need.

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

The vulnerability in his tone was enough to make you tear up. He was opening his heart out to you, leaving himself exposed. You wrap your arms around his back, covering his open wound with your own body. You cradle his head in your hand.

“I’ll stay, you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Your words of affirmation carry in the air. Dae-Ho hugs you even tighter. “(Y,n)!” He goes at an incredible speed, pounding into you. You claw at his back, needing the support. “Dae-Ho!” You wail, overwhelmed with pleasure. The male moves from your neck to rest his forehead against his. You feel every bit of love he was pumping into you. It’s a different level of intimacy, truly seeing each other’s soul like this.

You feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach. “Dae-Ho~! I’m close!” You moan, moaning in rhythm with each thrust. Dae-Ho nods frantically. “M-me too! Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…!” He’s unable to control his blabbering mouth. “Fuck. (Y,n)—you’re so good. So good. Need you… fuck…gonna—“

With that, you both come undone together, your moaning screams mixing together. Dae-Ho nearly collapses on top of you as he catches his breath, his face resting in your neck again. You pant, running your fingers through his hair as you both close your eyes.

He’d roll to his side, pulling out of you and disposing of the condom, tossing it into a trash can by his desk. He lays back down, resting on your collarbone. His arm snugly tucks around your waist.

“Did you mean it… what you said?”

Dae Ho’s question was so innocent, full of hope. He looked up at you expectantly. You feel yourself melt under his gaze, smiling softly and cupping his cheek.

“Of course I did. I’m yours.”

A satisfied smile forms on his face and he rests back down, closing his eyes with contentment. The two of you play together for the rest of the night. The last thing you’d hear before your slumber was a small mutter from your boy.

“I’m yours.”

[heliosunny]

Hi! I love your depictions of Phainon, especially when he toes the line between charming and threatening. I’m a sucker for a good unrequited love trope, so could you write a scenario where reader was in love with Phainon in the past but he treated her the same as he did everyone else so she eventually loses hope and gives up, so now he’s the one that has to chase after her? Thank you so much!

Yandere!Phainon x Fem!Reader

The first time you saw Phainon, you thought the stars had fallen from the sky and taken the shape of a man. He was brilliant, untouchable, a light too blinding for anyone to hold. And yet, you tried.

You were seven when you first told Phainon you wanted to marry him.

It had been one of those golden afternoons, the sun slanting through the trees, painting his silver hair with a soft glow. He sat on a patch of grass beside you, staring up at the clouds like they held all the answers in the world.

“Phai!” you had said, kicking your legs idly. “When we grow up, let’s get married.”

“Married?”

“Yes! Like grown-ups do! You’ll protect me, and I’ll make you happy.”

Phainon tilted his head, considering. Then, with a soft laugh, he shrugged. “Alright.”

And that was it. A simple agreement, like you had just decided to play a new game. He didn’t think about it beyond that moment, and maybe, at the time, you didn’t either. But as you grew, the weight of those words stayed with you.

Years passed. You stayed by his side, always reaching, always hoping. Phainon was kind—always had been. But as you both grew older, you noticed something.

He was kind to everyone.

He smiled at others the way he smiled at you. He listened to them, helped them, comforted them—just as he did with you. Maybe a little softer, a little gentler when it came to you, but never in the way you wanted. Never in a way that meant something more.

And so, the quiet realization settled in your heart like a stone sinking into a river.

You weren’t special.

Not to him.

And then there was that day. The day you knew, without a doubt, that you were just another name in his life.

It had been at the annual festival, a celebration where lights hung from every corner, where laughter echoed in the streets, and where lovers exchanged tokens of devotion.

You had spent all morning crafting a gift for him—something small but meaningful. A charm, woven with threads of silver and blue, the colors that reminded you of him. A silent confession, the last desperate hope that maybe, maybe he would see you.

When you found him, he was standing beneath the lantern-lit trees. But he wasn’t alone. A girl stood before him, cheeks dusted pink, hands nervously clasping a carefully wrapped box.

You had seen it before—people gravitating toward Phainon, drawn in by his quiet kindness, by the way he made everyone feel special. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That he would just smile, politely decline, and move on.

“Oh, for me?” Phainon had taken the box gently, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, the kind that once made your heart race. “That’s really kind of you.”

You stood there, gift clutched in your hands, heart pounding as he opened it. Inside was a scarf, delicately embroidered, clearly made with effort and care. He held it up, smiling, before effortlessly wrapping it around his neck.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” he said. And then, without hesitation, he lifted a hand and gently patted the girl’s head.

It was the same gesture he had given you countless times. The same words. The same smile.

Something inside you shattered.

You had spent years thinking you were different, that maybe, maybe the way he treated you was special. But here he was, accepting another person’s affection with the same grace, the same warmth.

You weren’t special.

Not to him.

Your hands trembled around the charm you had made. And then, slowly, you let it fall to the ground.

Phainon never even noticed.

----

“Y/N”

His voice cut through the air, quiet but firm. You stiffened for half a second before turning to face him.

“What is it, Phainon?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy”

“I never meant to make you feel like—”

You stopped him before he could finish.

Eventually, you stopped seeking him out, stopped waiting for his attention. And as days turned to weeks, you started avoiding him entirely.

But you never got the chance to truly leave him behind.

Because then the war came.

It happened suddenly—one evening, the village bells rang in alarm. Riders arrived from the capital, shouting of an approaching army, of an impending invasion. Chaos followed, families scrambling to gather their belongings, the town elders deciding who would flee and who would stay to defend.

Phainon, of course, chose to fight.

You still remember the look in his eyes that night. Determined. Steady. As if the boy who once watched clouds beside you had already faded into something sharper.

“You’re leaving, right?” His voice was firm, but there was something uneasy beneath it. “You should go to the capital—it’s safer there.”

You had hesitated, watching the way his hand gripped the hilt of a borrowed sword.

He was afraid.

You had known him long enough to see it, even if no one else could.

“I—” Your throat tightened. What were you supposed to say? Be safe? Don’t fight? You had spent so long pulling away, trying to make peace with the idea that you were just another person to him. And yet, standing there, watching him prepare for battle, you couldn’t help but remember the Phainon you once loved.

In the end, you only nodded. “Goodbye, Phai.”

The way his breath caught at your words—it almost made you stay.

But you didn’t.

You left with the others, escaping toward the capital as the village prepared for war.

You never thought you’d see him again.

Years Later – The Capital

The war changed everything.

Your village, though damaged, had survived—but life could never return to what it was. The battle had taken many, scattered others, and those who returned were never quite the same.

You, like so many others, had built a new life in the capital.

With your skill in design, you carved out a name for yourself among the noble elite. What had once been a simple love for embroidery and fabric turned into something much greater—a business, a reputation, a sense of independence you never had before.

You ran a high-end clothing shop near the palace, known for its elegant craftsmanship and modern designs. Nobles sought you out, eager for your work, for the quiet dignity and beauty woven into each piece you created.

And here, in the bustling streets of the capital, you finally found yourself.

----

The soft chime of the shop bell barely drew your attention as you worked, fingers carefully adjusting the pearl buttons on an elegant gown. You were used to high-ranking visitors—nobles, courtiers, even foreign envoys—so the presence of yet another escort was nothing unusual.

“Sir Luvain, if you’d follow me, the tailor should be expecting you.”

Slowly, you lifted your gaze.

Phainon stood at the entrance, clad in the silver-trimmed armor of the royal knights, the sigil of his rank gleaming against his shoulder. He had grown taller, stronger—the soft edges of youth sharpened into something disciplined, something restrained.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, as if nothing had happened, you turned your attention to his companion, the nobleman he was escorting. With practiced ease, you greeted him, all professionalism and grace.

“Lord Luvain, I trust you received my message regarding the final adjustments?”

The noble smiled, stepping forward to allow you to take his measurements. He spoke lightly about the upcoming banquet, about how eager he was to debut his attire. You listened, responded when necessary, all while acutely aware of Phainon standing silently at the edge of the room.

“Your measurements are set, my lord.” you finally said, stepping back with a slight bow. “This will be delivered two days later. If there are any final alterations needed, send word.”

Luvain gave a pleased nod before turning back to Phainon.

Phainon hesitated for just a second—his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something—but you were already turning away, reaching for your next task.

----

The bell chimed again the next morning.

You didn’t expect to see him. Not so soon.

But there he stood, alone this time.

You frowned as you saw his handsome face.. ruined. His lip was cut, a faint bruise darkening his cheekbone. He wasn’t injured enough for it to be from battle. No, this was different. A personal kind of fight.

Still, you didn’t ask.

Instead, you simply set down your tools and gestured toward the small seating area. “Sit.”

“…I didn’t come for treatment.”

“I didn’t ask why you came.”

Perhaps it was the casual, almost dismissive way you spoke. Perhaps it was the fact that, for the first time, you weren’t treating him as something untouchable.

But he obeyed.

As he settled into the chair, you retrieved a small cloth and a jar of medicinal balm, kneeling beside him to gently dab at the cut on his lip.

He winced slightly. “I could do this myself.”

“You’re terrible at it”

Up close, you noticed the slight exhaustion in his expression. You had heard stories—whispers of how politics in the palace were ruthless, how those who rose too quickly often became the target of others.

Perhaps he was learning that now.

It had been years since he left the village, years spent surrounded by flattery, empty smiles, and noble courtiers who praised him not for who he was, but for what he had become.

Yet here you were. Treating him with the same quiet care as always.

You hadn’t changed at all.

And maybe—maybe that was what unsettled him most.

“There.” You finally pulled away, capping the jar and setting it aside. “Try not to get hit next time.”

“You’re not going to ask what happened?”

You glanced at him, then gave a light shrug. “Does it matter?”

Then, with a soft sigh, you stood. “Well, if that’s all, Sir Phainon, I have other clients to attend to.”

You had never called him that before.

Not Phai. Not Phainon. Just Sir Phainon, like he was any other knight, any other customer.

Something about it unsettled him.

But before he could dwell on it, you had already turned away.

“Take care” you said over your shoulder, already moving on.

As he stepped out of the shop, Phainon barely noticed the bustling streets around him. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the way you had looked at him—or rather, the way you didn’t.

He had spent so long being adored, sought after, respected. And yet, none of it compared to the simple, quiet way you had once looked at him.

The way you didn’t anymore.

---

Days turned into weeks, and Phainon didn’t disappear like before.

If anything, he only climbed higher.

You heard the murmurs in the capital—of his growing reputation, his skill on the battlefield, his unwavering determination. His name was spoken with admiration, his presence sought after by nobles eager to have a knight of his caliber within their inner circles.

But no matter how high he reached, no matter how many doors opened for him, he always seemed to find his way back to you.

At first, it was subtle. A chance meeting in the marketplace, an escort duty that just so happened to lead him near your shop. Then it became deliberate. He would stop by under the guise of checking on his previous order, lingering too long, watching you in that unreadable way.

You had long stopped being a girl waiting for his affection. You had built your own life, your own success. But somehow, he refused to let you slip away.

----

“You may take the next few days off for your wedding. Enjoy yourself.”

Your worker’s eyes lit up, bowing in gratitude before hurrying off. You watched her go, your fingers idly tracing over the fabric on your desk.

Marriage.

You hadn’t thought about it much.

But now, with your employee stepping away for her own wedding, it dawned on you—it was that time in life where people settled down, where friends and acquaintances from your village were likely married with families of their own.

Once upon a time, you had naïvely dreamed of it, too.

A childhood promise, whispered in the golden glow of late afternoons—"Marry me when we grow up!"—and the careless laughter that followed, as if it was nothing more than a game.

But it hadn’t been a game. Not for you.

And in the years that followed, when you had loved him in silence, when you had watched him treat others with the same kindness he gave you, when you had finally learned that you were never special to him—

You had given up.

You weren’t that foolish girl anymore.

The shop bell chimed.

Phainon.

But this time, he wasn’t in armor. No weapons, no duties. Just simple, well-made clothing that suited him far too well—his presence somehow heavier despite his unassuming attire.

And in his hands—

A small, wrapped gift.

“For you.”

You hesitated before reaching out, carefully undoing the ribbon.

A hairpin. Carved in the shape of a flower that once bloomed in your village, back when you were children.

“…Why?”

Phainon inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself.

“I’ve been a fool. I didn’t see it back then.” He said “How much you meant to me. How much I took for granted.”

No, he wasn’t doing this.

Not now. Not after all these years.

“I thought of you often, even when I was away” he admitted. “But I only understood it after returning. When I saw you again, when you treated me as if I was just another face in the crowd.”

Your fingers curled around the hairpin.

“Because that’s what you are now” you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

“It’s not what I want to be.”

“I don’t want to be ‘just another knight’ to you.” His gaze locked onto yours, “I want—” He exhaled, softer this time. “I want you.”

And yet, all you could do was stare at him—at this man who was once your world, at this man who had only now realized his own feelings, at this man who had already taken too much from you.

You had already suffered once. Already let yourself burn for him.

You wouldn’t do it again.

Carefully, you placed the hairpin back into the box and closed the lid.

“…Thank you for the gift, Sir Phainon.” Your voice was steady, polite. “But I have no use for it.”

“Y/N—”

“I gave up on you long ago.” The words cut through the air, “And I have no intention of reliving that pain.”

“Goodbye, Phainon.”

And with that, you turned away.

You didn’t look back.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t hear the sound of him leaving.

Because this time—

This time, he wasn’t willing to let you go.

His heartbeat thundered.

He had always been admired, always been wanted. There was not a single noblewoman who wouldn’t welcome his favor, not a single courtier who wouldn’t seek his company.

But you?

You, who had once loved him so openly, had turned him away.

And it hurt.

More than it should have. More than anything ever had.

Phainon’s grip tightened around the small box still in his hands.

No.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Not when the only person who had ever been truly kind to him was slipping through his fingers.

----

No matter what you said, no matter how much distance you tried to place between you—

Phainon kept coming back.

Whenever he had a break from duty, he would stop by the shop under the pretense of ordering something, checking on an old commission, or simply greeting you.

It didn’t matter if the sun was blazing or if the streets were slick with rain—Phainon would still appear, standing just outside, waiting for the smallest chance to speak to you.

And you?

You refused to give him anything.

And yet, it never stopped him.

Until one day—

You closed your shop.

It was the first time in weeks that Phainon hadn’t seen you.

He had arrived as usual, fully expecting you to be there, only to find the doors locked. A simple note hung at the entrance, inked in your delicate handwriting:

"Closed for the week. No appointments will be taken."

The words should have meant nothing.

And yet—

Something in his chest twisted.

Because you weren’t someone who closed your shop without reason. You weren’t someone who let anything—anyone—get in the way of your work.

“You didn’t hear? She’s fallen ill” one of the merchants gossiped. “Not too severe, but bad enough to keep her indoors.”

You were ill.

And no one had told him.

By the time he arrived at your house, you were already recovering.

You were still pale, still weaker than usual, but you were up, moving about, focused on tidying the mess that had gathered during your bedridden days.

When the knock came, you hesitated.

Then, with a tired sigh, you opened the door.

And there he was.

Phainon, standing on your doorstep.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I heard you were unwell.”

“I’m fine now.”

“I’ll stay”

“…What?”

“I’ll stay here” Phainon repeated, stepping forward slightly. “Until you’re fully recovered.”

You had spent weeks pushing him away.

And still, still, he refused to listen.

“Phainon.” You swallowed back the frustration. “Go home. You have better things to do than waste time here.”

“I don’t consider this a waste.”

You inhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temples. “Stop this. You’re—” A sigh. “You’re an important figure now. You have responsibilities.”

“…You really think that?”

You exhaled, suddenly too tired to argue. “I think you should leave.”

And with that, you turned away, stepping back inside.

You closed the door.

You locked it.

After that day, something changed.

Phainon stopped coming to your shop. Stopped appearing in front of you. Stopped waiting by the doors, stopped lingering in the streets.

And for a while, you thought you had finally won.

---

The streets were quiet.

You stood at the entrance of your shop, the weight of exhaustion pressing on your shoulders as you locked the door for the night.

The metal clicked into place.

A shadow moved.

Your fingers froze over the lock. What was that? A ghost?

Slowly, cautiously, you turned.

And there he was.

Standing at the edge of the dimly lit street, half-shrouded in darkness, his blue eyes watching you.

You had known Phainon for years. You had grown up with him, watched him rise from a mere village boy to a knight of the palace. You had seen him change—seen him become colder, more refined, more distant.

But this was unnerving.

Still, you swallowed down the discomfort, "Phainon…?"

"You've been ignoring me. Did you meet someone else?"

"What?"

"Is that why? You found someone else, didn’t you?"

You frowned, unease curling at the base of your spine. "That’s ridiculous. I just have my own life, Phainon. You should focus on yours."

Then, with an exhale that sounded almost amused—

"You don’t understand how exhausting things are in the palace."

He took another step forward.

You instinctively took one back.

"Everything is fake" he continued, "Every smile. Every kind word. They all lie. They all pretend to care. But you—"

"You were always real."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach for the key still in the lock.

"But now you avoid me," he murmured. "Now you won’t even look at me."

"Phainon—"

He cut you off.

"If I got you pregnant," he said suddenly, "no one would bat an eye."

Your mind barely had time to process the words—what he had just said—before your body reacted on instinct.

You slapped him.

Phainon’s head snapped slightly to the side, his cheek flushed red from the strike, his lips slightly parted from shock.

But that moment of surprise didn’t last.

Slowly—so, so slowly—he turned his head back to you.

The last remnants of the boy you once knew were gone.

There was only him.

Only the man who had finally decided to take what was his.

You moved to run.

His hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you forward, crashing into his chest.

"That," he murmured, "was a mistake."

By the time the townspeople saw the smoke, it was already too late.

The shop was engulfed in flames. The fire devoured the wooden walls, the carefully crafted gowns and fabrics, reducing everything to ash.

And inside—

A body. Unrecognizable. Burnt beyond recognition.

A robbery gone wrong, they said.

A tragic death.

You were gone.

Far beyond the burning remains of your old life, in a place far from the city’s reach, a single candle flickered inside a dimly lit room.

The scent of smoke still clung to Phainon’s clothes as he sat beside the bed—the bed where you lay, unconscious.

Your wrists were bound. Just enough to make sure you wouldn’t do anything stupid when you woke.

He exhaled softly, reaching out, fingers brushing against your cheek.

Even now—even now, you were still his.

Now, you had nowhere to run.

The ropes around your wrists chafed against your skin, but the pain barely registered over the sheer rage bubbling in your chest.

The moment you had woken up—realized what he had done—you fought.

You screamed. You kicked. You thrashed so violently that Phainon had to pin you down.

"Let me go!" you spat, your voice hoarse from screaming.

Phainon only sighed, looking down at you with something almost close to pity.

"You’re being difficult."

"Do you think I’ll just sit here and accept this?" Your breath was ragged, fury shaking through your limbs. "I will never be yours."

"You always say that" he murmured, "But you’ve never really tried being mine, have you?"

"I have time" he whispered.

And that terrified you more than anything.

Because he truly believed you would break.

Your wrists throbbed where the restraints had dug into your skin. Your breath came ragged, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

Phainon knelt before you, "You’re exhausting yourself"

You flinched. He hesitated. But only for a second before he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"You always did push yourself too hard"

You gritted your teeth. "Don't act like you know me."

That made him laugh—quiet, humorless.

"I do know you." His eyes burned as he held your gaze. "Better than anyone. Better than all those nobles who use your talent, who smile and bow and then forget you the moment they leave."

"I remember you, even when no one else did." His fingers brushed against your knuckles, "I never stopped thinking about you. Even when you left me behind. Even when you convinced yourself you didn’t care anymore."

You yanked your hands away.

"You don’t get to say that"

"Why?" he challenged. "Because it’s the truth?"

"Because you’re insane."

"Maybe I am. But does it matter?"

"You’ve already lost everything, haven’t you?" he continued, voice deceptively soft. "They think you’re dead. Your shop, your name, your life—it’s all gone. No one’s coming for you. No one even remembers you exist."

Phainon cupped your face then, forcing you to look at him.

"But I do," he whispered. "I always will. I would burn the world if it meant keeping you by my side."

For the first time, you truly understood.

There was no line he wouldn’t cross.

No limit to how far he would go to make sure you never left him again.

Phainon leaned in, forehead pressing against yours.

"Stop fighting," he whispered. "Just let go. You’ll be happier if you do."

"…I don’t know how to let go"

"You don’t have to know" he murmured. "Just trust me."

You nodded.

And that was it.

That was all he needed to believe he had finally won.

Days passed.

Phainon gave you more freedom—not complete, but enough. Enough for you to move without chains. Enough for you to pretend.

You let him think you were adjusting, that his patience had worn you down. You let him dress you in fine silks, let him touch you, let him believe that you were his.

Because the closer he let you get to the edge of the cage—

The easier it would be to escape.

The day of the wedding arrived in whispers and candlelight.

The halls of the estate were decorated in muted elegance—nothing extravagant, nothing too public. He didn’t need an audience.

This wasn’t about power.

This was about you.

And Phainon already had what he wanted.

Or so he thought.

You stood before the mirror in your gown, hands trembling—not with nerves, but with anticipation.

Outside, the horses were ready.

Inside, the door was left unlocked—a careless mistake born from his growing trust.

You took a breath.

One step.

Another.

The halls were silent as you slipped through the shadows, heart pounding with every second.

The exit was so close.

"Going somewhere?"

The voice froze you in place.

You turned—and Phainon stood at the end of the hall.

His wedding attire was pristine, but the grip he had on the hilt of his sword? Tight.

Your mouth went dry.

"Phainon.."

"Was it all a lie?"

You clenched your fists.

And then—

You ran.

Bolted down the hall, legs burning, lungs aching—but Phainon was faster.

You twisted, struggling, but he slammed you back against the stone wall, his body caging you in.

"You almost had me," he murmured, "Almost."

"Let me go."

"You were going to leave me," he said, "Again."

"Then ...I'll just have to make sure you never try again."

The room was suffocatingly quiet.

The iron shackle around your ankle was too tight, cold against your skin.

Phainon stood at the door, silent, watching.

Then—

He left.

For a moment, you almost believed that was it. That he had locked you away, that this was the extent of your punishment.

Then he came back.

With a knife.

Your body tensed when he knelt beside you, when his calloused fingers traced along your wrist too gently before pinning it against the bedpost.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed the knife flat against your palm—just resting there.

"You tried to leave me."

He tilted his head, as if waiting. Daring you to lie to him.

"Say it."

"I—" You swallowed hard. "I tried to leave."

The blade pressed harder. Not enough to break skin. Just enough to make you feel the cold bite of the metal.

"Did it feel good?" he murmured. "Running away? Thinking you could escape me?"

"Phainon, please—"

A sharp swipe.

You flinched, expecting pain—but he didn’t cut you.

The blade had only sliced through the sleeve of your gown, the fabric slipping down your arm in ribbons.

"You’re scared" he observed.

You clenched your fists, refusing to give him an answer.

"Good."

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away.

He set the knife down.

The bed dipped as he leaned in one last time, lips brushing against your ear.

"Next time," he murmured, "I won’t be so merciful."

Then he left, locking the door behind him.

Leaving you with the shackle around your ankle, the torn fabric on your arm—

And the overwhelming realization that you were truly trapped.

[kxsagi]

“𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧”

a/n: everyone say thank you, landon! he hurt me and now i wrote angst. i’ll never forgive his bitchass for cheating on liz (yes i’m still mad about it) and i pray that she heals fast and thoroughly 🙏

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, bachira meguru, ness alexis

itoshi rin

he doesn’t say he misses you. instead, he shows it by keeping everything the same. your mug is still by the sink. your shampoo still in the shower. 

he trains harder than ever, but there’s a hesitation in his eyes, like he’s searching for something beyond the net, like scoring without your "good luck" feels hollow. 

he deletes your contact but memorizes your number. blocks you, but checks your socials with a burner. his pride won’t let him reach out, but gosh, he wants you to notice he’s suffering. 

sometimes he thinks about bumping into you “by accident.” at a café. bookstore. anywhere. but he never goes because he’s scared you’ll already be with someone else. 

he dreams of you. and in those dreams, you always leave again. 

isagi yoichi

he blames himself. rewatches every conversation in his mind like game tape. where did i go wrong? where could i have passed better? loved better? 

he still talks about you like you're part of his life. "she loves that song." "she would’ve liked this." even though the room goes quiet after. 

he keeps every gift you gave him. your first silly drawing, the bracelet you made at some street fair. it’s tucked in his drawer like sacred things. 

you told him once he overthinks everything, so now, ironically, he overthinks that, too. did you mean it as a joke? were you serious? were you already halfway out the door? 

he wishes you’d just tell him you hate him. because silence is worse. silence is hope’s cruel cousin. 

itoshi sae

he lets you go with a poker face. you’d think he didn’t care. but it’s the first time in years he misses a penalty kick. 

he deletes your pictures. not because he doesn’t care, but because he does. too much. and seeing your smile in that yellow-tinted light makes his chest cave in. 

he scrolls through your old texts when he's drunk. replies to them like you're still there. never sends them. 

he never begs. never asks you to stay. but every time someone mentions your name, there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes, like grief dressed in quiet clothes. 

he used to be bored of everything. now, he’s just tired. especially of pretending you didn’t matter. 

kaiser michael

you were the first person to tell him he didn’t have to perform all the time. that you liked him even when he wasn’t loud, golden, brilliant. 

he didn’t believe you. not really. until after you left. now the silence around him feels unbearable, like a stage with no audience. 

he flirts more now. louder, emptier. it’s all performance, a desperate echo of who he used to be when you were around to bring him down to earth. 

he keeps expecting you to walk in, roll your eyes, say "you’re so dramatic." but you never do. 

sometimes, he talks to you when he’s alone. not the real you, the memory version. and she’s always a little kinder than he deserves. 

shidou ryusei

he doesn’t cry. he doesn’t talk about it. but suddenly, the fire in him feels more like self-destruction than passion. 

on the field, he’s a menace. fouls more. gets carded more. you were the only one who calmed him down, reminded him of softness. now there’s no balance. 

people call him reckless. a lunatic. but they don’t know he’s trying to feel something. anything. 

he won’t admit it, but your absence tastes like metal in his mouth. bitter. sharp. 

sometimes, he punches the wall and pretends it’s not because he remembered your birthday and realized he has nowhere to send the gift. 

mikage reo

he’s always had money, always had power. but losing you? it’s the first time he couldn’t buy his way out of pain. 

he tells himself you’ll come back. that it’s just a break. that if he levels up, scores more, shines harder, you’ll notice. 

goes to the places you loved together, always ordering your favorite drink and leaving it untouched. “just in case.” 

he practices apologies in the mirror, over and over. never sends them. because every version feels too small for what he broke. 

his smile is still perfect, still charming, but if you look too close, it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. 

nagi seishiro

he doesn't understand why you're gone. he replays the breakup like a confusing side quest with no clear ending. 

sleeps way more than usual. not because he’s lazy, but because dreaming of you is easier than being awake without you. 

when he plays games now, he keeps losing. rage quits more often. "it's boring," he says. but it’s really because the person who used to sit beside him is missing. 

keeps your shirt. cuddles it like a plush. doesn’t say a word when reo comments on it. 

still texts you sometimes. “this meme reminded me of you.” “you’d laugh at this.” you never reply. he still sends them. 

karasu tabito

he jokes more than ever. laughs louder. flirts harder. but his humor has a sharpness to it now, like he’s constantly daring the world to notice he’s hurting. 

people say he's “the same as always,” but they don’t see him standing outside your apartment for 30 minutes just to walk away with a heavier heart. 

started journaling again. you told him once that writing helped with healing. he writes like you’ll read it one day. 

won’t admit it, but he plays dirtier now. more aggressive, less patient. “love made me soft,” he says. like it’s a curse. 

he misses your voice. not just your words. the sound of you saying his name like it meant something. 

bachira meguru

he paints you. over and over. sometimes with wings. sometimes with broken glass in your smile. always with love. 

still talks to his "monster" about you. "you think she hates me now?" "do you think i scared her off?" 

he’s still sunshine to everyone else, but when he's alone, the silence is suffocating. 

your absence changed his art. darker colors. messier strokes. people praise his “emotional evolution,” but he just misses being happy. 

he goes to the park where you first kissed and sits on the swing for hours. waiting. just in case you remember, too. 

ness alexis

he always said you made him feel seen, not just as a shadow to kaiser, but as his own person. now that you’re gone, he forgets how to exist without comparison. 

overcorrects. becomes louder, flashier, more dramatic. like if he’s impressive enough, you’ll regret leaving. 

still wears the cologne you bought him. even though it makes him nauseous with memories. 

he swears he’s over you. but the second someone mentions your name, his hands start to shake. 

keeps your photo as his lock screen. “aesthetic,” he says. “nostalgic,” he means. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[wonderjanga]

Tourism

Billy is a tour guide. What? It helps bring in some dough on the side. Besides, he’s a local, he’s totally okay to be a tour guide.

Billy: “And if you follow me, I’ll show you a couple more attractions, such as Broomie the sentient broom.”

Tourists: *oohs and aahs*

Billy: “See, Broomie here sweeps this street and only the street. He’s been around since nearly the foundation of Fawcett, though the googly eyes are a new touch. Say hi, Broomie.”

Broomie: *turns upside down and waves bristles at them*

Tourists: *taking tons of pictures*

Billy: “Yes, he’s a dear. He knows it too.” *pats Broomie’s handle* “Now, this way is the Statue of the Dancing Crocodile.” *walks away*

Tourists: *follows*

Billy: “This statue was placed here about 160 years ago.” *pats statue* “Back then, it was just humans and witches and maybe a couple fae and dryads. The croco-people, as a show of good faith danced for the people of this town so they could be welcomed in.”

Statue of the Dancing Crocodile: *statue is actually dancing*

Billy: “They were and since then, they’ve lived with us. Now this way!” *starts to walk off again*

Tourists: taking some pictures and some run up after him because Billy is barely taking any moments for any actually pictures and such*

Five Minutes Later…

Billy: “This is Fawcett Zoo!”

Tourists: *taking pictures of dinosaurs and giraffes lowkey playing in the same animal pen*

Billy: “This is where we are going to be taking our break with Tawny the Tiger.” *hops the fence to the tiger exhibit* “Come on! No time to dillydally!”

Tourists: *some hop over, some don’t*

Billy: “Please help yourselves some tea, biscuits, and conversation.” *already sitting down next to Tawny and eating some cookies*

Tourist 1: “Is this animal food?”

Billy: “What? No. It’s perfectly humanly human food.”

Tourist 1: *shrugs and eats some too*

About Fifteen Minutes later…

Tourist 2: “That tiger was a real gentleman!”

Billy: “Yes, he was. Now, follow me!” *heads out of the zoo*

Tourists: *scramble after him*

Billy: “Now, we are heading to Fawcett’s Park. It’s home to the loveliest singing peonies and six-winged butterflies.”

Tourist 3: “Does he mean moths?”

Billy: “Do watch your step for any fairy rings!” *steps around one* “They’re all around the park too. You will be abducted if you step into one, and Captain Marvel will have to bargain for your release.”

Tourists: *gasps*

Billy: “Now, as for some general information about the place, Fawcett Park is a park fae of all kind like to frequent, but our resident superhero told them that a bunch of nasty humans would be coming so none of them will be here to bother you.”

Tourist 4: “Nasty humans…?”

Billy: “Sorry.” *clears throat* “Non-Fawcett humans. My apologies if I offended anybody.”

[butterymangowrites]

ten years in the making

paring: bakugou katsuki x fem reader

warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, no-quirks au, high school love confession, unrequited love turned very requited, almost non-con threesome, feels like cheating (but technically not), no cheating though, fuck boi bakugou, pining reader, obsessive/possessive bakugou, running away, biting, marking, creampie, breeding kink, angst, toxic relationship

word count: 6.2k

You still had the love letter you handed to him when you were both in high school. His spiky blonde hair was pretty under the spring sun, red eyes examining the envelope in your hands with a disgusted look on his face. 

On the rooftop of the school building, the wind blew extra hard. The chill of winter that lingered in the breeze made your face cold, but it was the rejection from Katsuki that numbed your whole body. 

“Take that shit away,” he sneered. “Be lame somewhere else. I don’t like you.” 

It was pathetic how you fixated on him because he helped you once from a petty thief who tried to steal your wallet. You shouldn’t have liked him that much, not when he was so clear in his stance on how he felt about you. But you were also just a girl, and girls had crushes on Bakugou Katsuki—you were just one of many, but no doubt the most pathetic one. 

Cause while others grew out of their crushes eventually, you did not. And Katsuki, being the spawn of the devil that he was, started to see you as some sort of entertainment. 

You followed him through university, enrolling in the same one. You begged your mom to stay at a dorm near campus, the same dorm Katsuki told you he would stay in. He lied. You knew on the moving day because he texted you photos of his new place from the front of the building to the room with an obviously different layout. 

The text said, ‘lol you really thought u got me huh?’ 

That sentence needed commas, and you… needed to get a grip. Yet, you did not. 

Still trying to be close to him, you went to every party he went to, even if it meant you had to see him with a different woman each time. He never stuck with one, telling you he was easily bored and that was why you and him would never happen. Because you were a soppy, hopeless romantic who would wait for him like a dog waiting for its owner to come home—his words. 

“When will it get through your thick skull, dog?” Katsuki rapped on your forehead with his knuckles. “You’re not my type.” 

Well, his type exited the room just now, leaving only you and a very naked Katsuki in it. He loomed over you menacingly close, trying once again to talk some sense into you, albeit in a very mean fashion. Tonight, he was particularly cruel. After texting you to buy him a box of condoms—stating a specific brand, flavor, and size—he made you sit and watch until the very end. 

You pretended to pay attention, but what you really looked at was the wall behind the scene playing in front of you. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten.” You changed the subject, ignoring his hot breath that fanned over your face.

“Yeah, mom misses you like hell,” he jeered. “How did you do it, inserting yourself into my family?” 

It was simple, actually, just offering to drive him home for a monthly family visit with a gift for his mom and dad every time, without fail, even though he got his own car. His mom, Mitsuki, never trusted his driving skills anyway, saying he was too reckless. So she was grateful for you, to the point of inviting you over for dinner as thanks whenever you dropped her son home, and you accepted the kindness. 

Katsuki would roll his eyes, but he let it all happen, cause why would he say no to a personal chauffeur? All he had to do was sit prettily and blast his one-hour playlist until the car was parked in front of his childhood abode. And after eating and helping with the dishes, you would be gone, back to your own family house a couple of streets away—convenient. 

You knew you were just a tool to Katsuki, his lackey, but you were also as stubborn as a mule. 

And as dumb as a clown… 

After many years hounding for Katsuki’s attention, you finally got it when you were both twenty five. The first time he kissed you, he was drunk in your apartment. He was frustrated with a colleague who screwed up an important meeting with a potential client and decided to come rant your ears off with two packs of beer—one for him, one for you. 

You never thought the night would end up with him pinning you to the floor, his mouth devouring yours and his hands popping the buttons of your work shirt until your bra-clad tits showed. 

“Thought you would follow me anywhere,” said Katsuki, red eyes locked onto you from where he was, face nestled between the soft mounds of your breasts. “But you chose a different company, live far away from me, texting seven times in seven months. Traitor.” 

“You’re heavy.” Your words struggled to come out. From when he used to be lanky and the same height as you, he was none of that now. The growth spurt hit him like a freight train. In the blink of an eye, he grew into a giant of a man, tall and filled with muscles, even more so now that he was in his salaryman era. You wondered how he still found time to work out as often as he did when you barely caught any sleep. 

After graduation, you both landed jobs in different companies. And if you were being honest with yourself, you would say the reason you accepted the offer was partly because running after Katsuki and answering his every beck and call started to… tire you. Forced by duty and responsibility, it helped you distance yourself away from him. Cause Lord, you doubted you could have done it on your own.

Getting his text today saying he would come visit, you were dumbfounded, even thinking it was a joke til you got another text an hour later saying he arrived.

You shouldn’t have let him in, shouldn’t have reconnected. You were almost off the noose before he came and adjusted the knot, tightening it. After that night, he came visit once a week on Friday. Kisses slowly evolved into soft touches, then heavy petting, and finally—sex. 

Fucking your brain out, that was what he did most of the times, leaving your ass red and face wet from crying. On rare occasions, it was slow, deep, like he wanted to mold you into the shape of his cock. But all was intense, asking for eye contact and name-saying, and it was Katsuki who did the asking, which surprised you to no end. 

“You wanna come home? Mom and dad miss you,” mumbled Katsuki one autumn night. It had been three months since that first drunken kiss. “They got a new dog. But old people are always lonely, hell knows why.”

With that, not only him, but the monthly visit returned, too. 

Their dog was a loudmouthed chihuahua named Katsumi. It barked at you non-stop from the moment you got out of the car, louder when Mitsuki raced out the front door to hug you. After dinner, it found you and Katsuki in the laundry room with its master’s teeth nibbling down your neck and barked snappily, making Katsuki jump.

When you let out a roar of laughter, his eyes widened with a look of what seemed like wonder. His pupils dilated when he leaned down to take your lips in a fierce kiss. For a moment, everything was perfect. 

Had you mentioned being dumb? 

A month later, there was a knock on your door. Katsuki hips slowed down mid-pounding before he stepped back from you and the bed, leaving you empty. 

“Keep your ass up. Don’t fucking move.”

You only let out a soft hum as a response, not understanding why or who would be here at this hour. Were you too loud? Maybe someone was here to complain. You pondered, face still down against the soft mattress with your rear up as instructed. Katsuki would handle them, whoever they were. 

“Well, I see why you never call anymore, Katsuki-kun.” 

The voice was close, too close—its owner was in the bedroom with you. When the realization hit, you bolted, shooting out of your position and scooting back, all the while pulling the duvet up to shield your nakedness from the newcomer’s eyes.

She was a woman about your age and height, standing at the foot of the bed in a skimpy dress. 

“Do me a favor. Shut the fuck up,” said Katsuki, confirming they really did know each other. 

It was like your brain stopped functioning. You saw Katsuki walking towards you but was too slow to think what your next move should be. So you let him pull you to him by the duvet because you wouldn’t let go of it. When he sat you on his lap, you felt something wet gliding down your cheeks.

“Hush now, princess.” He wiped the dripping drops with both of his thumbs. “You seriously thought our relationship was exclusive? You thought you fixed me?” 

Another set of fat tears cascaded down when he kissed you, seasoning the kiss salty. 

“Seven months, seven texts, no calls,” he said. “Who do you think you fucking are, leaving me like that?”

You knew, you knew it was too good to be true. And when he turned to the other side to kiss the woman who was now naked and sitting on the bed—your bed–beside him, you also knew it was time to let go. The silly crush, the well-kept love letter, the admiration that you should have weaned off long ago—they all needed to go. 

Getting up from his lap while he was distracted, you gathered your clothes off the floor and left the bedroom without turning back. You got dressed in the living room and closed the front door silently when you left the apartment. You didn’t want him to hear, not wanting to cause a scene, not wanting to see him anymore. 

You were sitting in the car in the apartment parking lot, trying to find a hotel to crash at when you got a text from Katsuki.

‘you thought you got me huh?’ 

You blocked him. 

There was only a month left on your apartment’s lease; you would give a notice to your landlord tomorrow that you would move. Everything would be alright, you told yourself. Katsuki might never bother you anymore since he had got what he wanted—your absolute humiliation.

It was different from that one time he told you to stay and watch him rail the life out of that girl when you were in college. At that time, you knew you were nothing to him, knew he did that to hurt you. This time, you thought you were something to him. And it hurt, a thousand times worse to realize that you weren’t, and that he still wanted to hurt you. 

—

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Those were the only words spinning around in his head since you were gone, really gone. You walked out of that door so fucking demurely. Even when he stopped kissing his ex-booty call to listen, he didn’t hear you wail or see you come crawling back. 

So he texted, leaving the girl he called here to demean you to quickly type on his phone. When the message was marked ‘read’ but got no response, he cursed, “Fuck!” 

“Come on, Katsuki-kun. Let’s have some fun,” the girl whined. 

“Sh!” He shushed her, still tapping the screen.  

She probably looked at him like he was possessed by an evil spirit, but he couldn’t care less. 

‘Who did you think you were? My gf? Lol.’

He was so in a hurry he forgot to type in lowercase. 

‘Lovesick foll’

‘*fool’

‘Where u going’

‘Dont wanna watch’

‘?’

You didn’t read at all except for the first text. That made him get off the bed and get dressed, running out of the apartment to punch the elevator down to the first floor. When he exited the building, your sedan was already on the street; he saw the taillights, remembered the plate. It got farther in each second that passed, and there was not a darn thing he could do about it. 

Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck shit, fucking fuck. 

For some reason he knew, this time, you were gone for good. Not an absence the next day at school after he told you he lost his virginity to some girl in another class, not the seven months with a few texts to check in with him. This time, it was for good. 

Like hell he was gonna let that happen. 

—

You ended up staying at the hotel for a week, scared Katsuki might still be lurking around. While you knew he got his biggest fill of breaking you this time, you wanted to be sure. Then, as soon as you found a new place, you moved out. 

At work, you asked your boss, Aizawa, for a transfer to another branch, telling him it was for personal reasons. You swore you saw him squint his weary eyes, but after asking you a couple more questions, he agreed nonetheless.

“If it were stress, it’d be no different in another branch. Hope you know that,” Aizawa drawled. 

“I do, sir,” you replied, tired from the poor quality of sleep your situation and the hotel bed gave you. 

“And as soon as possible, you say?”

“Yes, sir,” you affirmed. “Please.” 

The transfer was done in one week, all thanks to your boss. 

Restarting your mundane life, it took two months for you to regain some sort of peace found in everyday’s routine—waking up, going to work, coming home, sleeping, waking up again. There was no contact from Katsuki, only the ghost of his taunts that came hand in hand with the memories of his caresses you could not dispel remained, making guilt creep up your spine every time you touched yourself to climax imagining it was his hand. 

You would find someone else. You and Katsuki, it was ten years in the making. You were fifteen years old on that rooftop, confessing to a boy you thought was the most beautiful person in the world, having no clue how your action would play out. It would not be possible to banish those ten years in two months, no matter how despicable he was to you. And that was a shame. 

It took one phone call from Mitsuki to disrupt your normalcy. 

“I just wanted to know how you were doing, honey.” said Katsuki’s mom, sounding worried. “It’s just—you’re gone again, like those months. And Katsuki won’t tell me what’s going on, which means something must have happened. I need to—I—”

She was trying to find words, and you didn’t want to interrupt. 

“I need to know you’re okay.” She finally let it out. “Just come visit, honey. You don’t have to bring my son.”

“We miss you.” 

It was those words that brought you to the Bakugou house the following weekend. 

“Oh, honey.” Misuki stopped before you, eyeing you from head to toe. Katsumi barked incessantly, all the while trying to sniff the bag of fresh-baked cookies you bought for the family. When the woman beckoned you to come close and enfolded you in her arms, you teared up a bit. 

“That airhead of a son,” the older woman grumbled. 

Getting in the house thwarted all the cold delightfully. You put your coat on the couch next to where you sat, waiting for the tea Mitsuki said she was going to get. You always liked the Bakugou house, asking Katsuki to walk him home every day just to see it from the outside. He never let you in. Ironically enough, it was never him who invited you in, it was his mom. 

Where was Mitsuki now? You looked around for the matriarch, but instead, you saw Katsuki. 

“About time you showed up.” 

There was so much fighting, so much push and pull, and trying to run away, and crying for help; yet, no one came. Katsuki had to carry you on his shoulder to go upstairs because you resisted profusely and refused to walk on your own. 

Door closed, lock clicked. A second later, you were dropped on his bed unceremoniously. You had never been in his room before and didn’t want to now. But since there was no choice, you took the opportunity to look around, taking everything in. 

His room was so… boy. A drum set in one corner, an expensive-looking gaming PC in another with a shelf filled with mangas and action figures next to it, posters of his favorite anime character plastering all over the walls. 

You remembered he liked All Might, the blonde-haired hero from a shonen manga you didn’t read but knew every detail from Katsuki’s ceaseless babble. You even broke into your savings buying a dozen raffle tickets till you won the big prize—a large figure he said he was saving up for—and gave it to him as a birthday present. 

He probably didn’t keep it. 

“Don’t be mad at mom, okay? I was on my knees begging her for help. That was on me,” Katsuki spoke softly, as if he was trying not to spook you. “Old hag hit me so hard dad had to intervene. But I’m her son. You understand, right? She would never abandon me.”

It was him between you and the door; you just needed to get past him, unlock the door and run. Slowly, you got out of the bed to stand on your own feet. The moment they touched the floor, however, was brief. Because Katsuki leaped from where he stood, taking him only two strides before he got you again. 

Back on the bed, you fought him tooth and nail, punching, kicking, biting, while he tried to sedate you with a soothing voice. But there was nothing soothing or gentle about this man—a monster. You saw through him. 

His grip on your wrists was immovable, anchoring you to the bed with one hand. He caged your body with his, examining you like a predator sizing up its prey, his presence all domineering, demanding obedience. 

“Shhh, settle down. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he coaxed. 

“Let me go!” 

All you could move now was your legs, which you did to your best ability, but to no avail. Katsuki waited it out, allowing you to try however you want to get away without saying anything. Eventually, you stilled, so exhausted you couldn't move anymore. 

“There, there. That’s my good princess,” he murmured, his usual harsh features softening. 

Frustration brought tears to your eyes. It took less than you thought, easier than expected, to suck it all up and spill everything that occupied your mind. 

“What do you want? What do you want from me, Katsuki? I'm sorry I confessed to you that day. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. But please—please.” Your voice got hoarse and lost at the second please. You had to cough to get it back. “I have learned my lesson. You and me, it will never happen—will never work out. I know that now. I get it, believe me, I do,” you choked through your tears, pleading. “I won't like you anymore, Katsuki, so please—let me go.” 

“Like me?” he reiterated. “I thought you loved me.”

“What?” 

He sighed, his free hand searching for something in one of his sweatpants’ pockets. When he pulled his hand out, you saw a letter—the one you gave it to him and got rejected. All these years, it had been kept with you, safely in your trinket box. Now, it was in his hand, opened. He finally accepted it, but at what cost? 

“I need you to read it to me,” he commanded, “out loud.” 

“Please, don’t make me do this.” 

“Listen,” he said. “I’m going to let go of your wrists and give you this letter that you wrote for me, and you’re going to read it—word—for—word.” He used the envelope to brush down the bridge of your nose. “If you tear it up—if you do, princess—I’m going to make you rewrite it. And it better be as good, if not better, than this one.”

He let go of your wrists and gave you the letter. 

“Oh, and if you run,” he added. “I’ll catch you, and we start over. Clear?” 

You nodded and took the envelope, hands shaking noticeably when you took the letter out. Everything was under Katsuki’s observation. He sat astride your thighs without putting all his weight on you, waiting patiently. 

“To Katsuki, if you are reading this, that means you accepted my letter, thank you!” You wiped tears out of your eyes to see better. “I know you get a lot of letters like this. It must be a bit of a hassle reading love confessions everyday, right? But please bear with me, I will try to keep this—” 

Interrupted, you looked past the letter and saw Katsuki lifting the hem of your sweater up and leaning down to place a kiss on your exposed stomach.

“Go on,” he prompted. “Don’t mind me. Don’t stop.” 

“I will try to keep this short,” you continued, completing the last sentence, trying to ignore the fact that your jeans were being unbuttoned and pulled down. “You know, girls in our class often say they love your hair, your eyes, but a lot of them are scared of your personality.” You felt his breath through your panties, hot. “I disagree. I think you are nice, brave, and kind. And don’t get me wrong, I love your hair and eyes too.”

“You’re cute, baby,” said Katsuki as he pried your legs open. Without taking off the underwear, he licked your pussy through it. 

“Katsuki!” 

Dragging his tongue up, he mumbled, “Keep reading.”

“And I love you.” You read on and saw his eyes roll back at that specific sentence. 

Suddenly, he switched from licking to sucking, making the crotch all wet with his saliva. You were preparing to read the next part when he made it all the more difficult by moving aside the damp fabric and rubbing his face into your naked cunt. His nose, lips, chin, all soaked in your embarrassing glossy juice. You cursed yourself for giving in, for getting wet. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” 

You let out a sob, raising the letter in your hands up again to read. 

“I know we don’t know each other well, and this feeling is not reciprocated—”

Why did he have to slurp the juice like that? He made it hard, so hard for you. 

“I’m—just a classmate after—all. But what I said, I said it with—a sincere—heart. So even if—you don’t love me back, please—let me keep—this feeling, I promise I—will treasure it.”

Panting sharply, you stopped before the next paragraph when you felt his tongue massaging your clit. Grasping his hair with both of your hands, you forgot you still held the letter. There was an audible scrunch when it was crumpled up in one of your fists.

Katsuki stopped dead in his tracks, glaring up from below; his red orbs seemed redder all of a sudden. “Did you just crumple the letter?” 

You pulled your hands back quickly when you realized, strengthening out the paper as best as you could. The creases weren’t that bad. You showed it to him, ensuring that it was still intact. 

He relaxed. You released a held breath. 

Back to concentrating on the handwritten texts, this time, you vowed to not look at him anymore and would just just read through everything as fast as you could—getting it done. Nevertheless, when he was back on eating your pussy and pride out, it did not get easier, Katsuki still managed to make you writhe like your life depended on it. 

“One more thing, I don’t know if you remember, but thank you for—saving me that day in front of the mini mart.” You tried to recall the event, the beginning of everything. “The thief would have—hurt me, and I would have lost—my wallet.” 

And it was just that, just you trying to yank your wallet back from the thief's hands, the popsicle you just bought lying on the ground, melting. The store staff was on the phone with the police—you heard it—but they didn’t come out. Katsuki did. 

When the thief was about to lay his hand on you, the blonde haired boy whom you recognized as your classmate kicked him in the shin. Moving fast, Katsuki then slammed his school backpack on the thief’s head, once, twice, thrice, on and on until he knocked him out. 

“You were my hero.” You read the last sentence, finishing the letter as he finished you.

You set the paper down on your side, finally freed from the evidence of your teenage self’s stupidity. Feeling weightless from the orgasm, all you could do was stare at the ceiling. After what felt like forever, Katsuki appeared in your field of vision, hovering over you, now shirtless… and pantless. You weren’t aware when he took them off, too lost in your own world. 

“You can't just stop loving me,” he said before bending down to kiss your cheek, then whispered, “Take responsibility. Be true to your words, dumbass.” 

“Katsuki, you’re being selfish.” You turned your face away, fleeing him.  

His red eyes sharpened. “After all this time you have showered me with love and attention, and you want to—take it away?” 

“There will be others who love you and give you all the attention you need,” you argued. “I’m not that person.”  

“No! Fucking no! Shut up!” he barked, turning your face back to him and silencing you with a kiss. 

Even with the heater warming up the room, the cold air that seeped through the walls and windows still reached your naked form. After being rid of your sweater, bra, and drenched panties, the only warmth you could find was from Katsuki’s body. And he made sure to share it with you so generously. 

Pain after pain, bite after bite. Katsuki would not stop no matter how desperately you begged him to. Your skin was his canvas, not only your neck, but your cheeks, breasts, belly, arms, thighs, calves; they were tender and hurt to touch. You would have to refrain yourself from looking into the mirror for too long, maybe. Luckily it was winter, this way, nobody would bat an eye if you covered yourself up like it was minus twenty celsius. 

“I’m gonna fuck you raw, okay? Haven’t fucked anyone since you left. You gotta take care of me, princess.” 

“Don’t bullshit me,” you returned. “You fucked that girl.” 

And it still hurt just thinking about it.

“Did not.”

Even so, had he gone mad? He sounded like it. Wearing condoms was the strictest rule of his when it came to sex. As far as you knew, he never broke it once, not for anyone, not for you. But you could be wrong—you didn’t want to—because now, he actually looked eager to go through with it, fucking you bareback.

Too risky, too intimate. 

“You’ll regret it. Please just—think before you act.” 

Trying to reason with Katsuki, you also attempted to move away. Big mistake. Catching you by your thighs, he forced himself closer and wrapped your legs around his waist. Then, he placed his unshielded cock on your folds and pushed it down a bit for the head to slither in, just the tip, nothing more. 

“Katsuki, no!” 

“Katsuki, yes,” he said, mockingly, and shoved it all in.  

—

The bed shook and squeaked annoyingly from how hard he rammed into your tight weeping hole, but the moans you were trying, but not so successfully, to suppress were so adorable he was able to overlook it and focus on you instead. He never knew his bed did this, never brought anyone home to fuck before. 

He almost spilled in the first five minutes, having to slow down to prolong the feeling of being wrapped and rubbed by a pussy, skin to skin. And you—lying there with your brows frowned and tits bouncing—did not help shit. Trying feebly to push him away when he swooped down for a kiss only stirred up his excitement, making him go rougher until you gasped and gave in.

What a soft and tempting little lamb you were. He wanted to brand you with his cum and give you his fucking name, knocking you up with a couple of brats for you and him to take to school and hear a teacher address you as Mrs. Bakugou with his own ears.

Since the day you handed him that letter, you had never been anyone else’s but his. Must have been fate, he didn’t know, didn’t care about a what-if either. His only regret was that he could have had a taste of you sooner, but he would call it a story arc and leave it at that—he had you now anyway. 

“Say my name, princess,” he demanded.

“Kat—suki.”

“Again.”

“Katsuki!”

This was worth it. The tirade of rebuke his mom delivered to his ears and the smacks on the head while saying she never taught him to be like this when he came clean about what he did to you—all was worth it. 

“I’ll get her back, mom,” Katsuki convinced. “We’ll get her back.” 

“You better.” 

It was convenient that his mom already liked you as if you were the one who popped out of her vagina and not him. Well, they were the same in that aspect. Who would have thought it would come to this day, the day he wanted to trap you in his home, when just a decade earlier, he would never have had the slightest idea of granting you the permission to step past the front gate. 

“She’s a good kid,” his mom commented. “The same girl who walked you home and bought you that All Might figure, no?” 

“Yeah.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. 

“Aha.” 

“Will you help me or not?” he asked, irritated. He had been kneeling at her feet for like fifteen minutes. 

“Watch your tone, boy.” Mitsuki’s voice hardened. His dad’s hand over her shoulder rubbed gently to calm her quick temper down. 

“Tch!” 

The tiny mutt chose that moment to strut into the living room, stealing his mom’s attention. She leaned down to pick it up and put it on her lap. It looked down at him, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Conceited little fucker. 

“You know why I named her Katsumi, Katsuki?” 

“Oh, don’t give me that shit.” 

“Katsuki,” his dad said in a reprimanding tone. 

“She reminds me of you, angry for no reason, always bark, bark, bark. It gets lonely around here, so why not.” Mitsuki smiled, scratching her new child’s head. “And you—remind me of her.”

Katsuki squinted his eyes, kinda knew where this was going. 

“A dog, waiting for its owner to come home.” 

She was not wrong. 

“Yes, I will help you, son.” 

A series of bangs on the door broke through the memory and his euphoria. He just came, hard, pouring his pent-up, ripe seeds far up your cunt, and someone wanted to butt in now? Katsuki huffed, but refused to get up and find out who wanted what, dead set on keeping you plugged up. 

Another rapping on the door, then a voice followed. “That’s enough, Katsuki. Let the poor thing out.” 

Of course, it had to be his mom. 

“Go away, hag.” 

“Bakugou Katsuki!” 

“We’ll be out!” 

Just not now. He omitted, and it worked. Mitsuki carried a string of grumbles and footsteps with her, leaving nothing behind. Katsuki turned to you, still under him, in time to see you avert your gaze away. Cute. 

“Can I go now?” you asked. 

“No.” He changed positions, turning over onto his back and getting you on top of him, cock still snug inside your walls. He hoped he didn’t spill a single drop.

“Katsuki, I don’t want to fight anymore.” 

“Then don’t, baby.” 

“I can’t live like this. Please”—you pleaded with your eyes—“don't hurt me anymore.” 

He couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at your frail tone. Looking at you, he saw a woman with dark rings under her eyes, beautiful, but she looked like she had seen better days—a stark contrast to the girl who held out a letter towards him on that spring day, wind in her hair, kindness abundant enough to share. 

Before he knew it, words were out of his mouth. “I wish I had hurt you less.” 

It would not have been possible for him to not hurt you at all. He knew himself well enough to believe otherwise. He also knew, for certain, how he would like the story to go. 

“Do you still love me? Like you wrote in that letter.” he whispered. “Am I still your hero, princess?”

“You don’t”—you gritted your teeth—“have the right to ask me those questions.” 

“I’ll be yours. I want to.” And fuck, he really did, just thinking about it woke his flaccid cock up, rigid again inside of you. Putting his hands on both of your asscheeks, he grinded you up and down. “Do you still love me?”

You kept quiet, unyielding, only small, faint gasps could be heard. 

“Guess that’s not important.” Katsuki decided. “I’ll keep you first—fuck the answer out of you later.”

Panic flashed upon your expression at his declaration, and gasps turned into lustful whimpers when he started slamming your hips up and down his erect shaft.

“How long are you gonna make me wait? A year? A decade? As revenge, maybe?” He took your sweet mouth, hand pressing down the nape of your neck to keep it still. “House will be full of brats by then, but take your time, princess.”

“This will never work out. It won’t. It won’t,” you cried, shutting your eyes tight. “I can’t share you.”

Katsuki didn’t know why, but you not wanting to share him was sexy as shit. The mere thought of sharing you, however, made him want to put something on fire. Was this jealousy people were talking about? It burnt like a bitch. 

“Who said anything about sharing?” he grunted, slapping your jouncing ass, making you squeal. “And this goes both ways, princess. Don’t think I would let anyone touch you.” 

He was pissed just imagining it, which was nowhere near healthy, but who wanted that. He just wanted you, in any way he possibly could. 

“I’m—I’m gonna come,” you spluttered, convulsing around him. 

“That’s it. Come on my cock, baby. Make your man proud.” 

Your velvety walls tightened, constricting his cock and milking it when ropes of cum shot out. 

Sucked dry and spent, Katsuki closed his eyes and tried to rein in his breath. When he reopened them, it was to check if you were still with him—you were, resting on his chest with one cheek against it. Out of cuteness aggression, he pinched the other side.

You let out a short screech. “That hurt!”

The thought of marking you reared its head, biting where it hadn’t been bitten yet, hurting you a little more. But he stifled it, saving it for later. 

Steering himself to another matter, he said, “You never texted me back.”

“I blocked you.” 

“Figured.” Katsuki nodded. 

“Deserved.”

“Unblock me.”

You sighed.

—

The messages wouldn’t go through even if you unblocked him. That was how the application worked, which was fine with him. Scrolling through the one-sided chat, he could sense urgency and desperation through each letter, and some messages actually sounded mental. It would be for the best if you didn’t see them. 

‘Answer’ 

‘i didn’t fuck her, she left. Now fucking answer’ 

‘come back, i wont be mad. where u at.’ 

‘I am still at your apartment, u. didn’t come back. where r u’ 

‘i fucking found your letter. i’ll find u too’ 

“You—kept my present?” 

Katsuki looked up from his phone to your towel-swathed form, fresh out of the shower. Following your line of sight, he was directed to the bottom of the bookshelf where an All Might figure was set—his seventeenth birthday present from you. It was one of his top favorites, but he would never tell you that.

“I’m not stupid enough to throw things I like away, I’ll have you know.” He scowled and went back to scrolling on his phone. 

‘so u moved away huh?’ 

‘need you. don’t wanna fuck my hand anymore :(’ 

‘never mind, bitch’ 

‘u love me huh?’ 

‘Pathetic’ 

‘didnt mean that’ 

‘need u’ 

‘i'm an attention seeking whore who abuses your love to get the validation i want.’

‘sorry’ 

‘there i said it.’ 

‘now come back’ 

Yeah, you didn’t have to know any of that.

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ Chauffeur .

❥ old!manlogan x fem!reader

summary: mean old logan can’t help but to push the best thing away in his life. and you can’t help but to let go of your worst.

❥ tags: stubbornness, age gap (readers in her late 20s), reader is a mutant, old man logan having a wet dream, car sex, riding, creampies, possibly pregnancy, reader is very rich and established, brat taming, reader’s boyfriend is an ASSHOLE, logan is an asshole but that’s nothing new, etc…

note: we all wanna ride, old man logan. also, stepping away from jjk for a bit. wc: 4.9k

Everyday was the same when you got into the car. There was a smile on your face and you greeted him, even if you didn’t get a response most of the time—you still treated him with kindness. He was your driver after all and you were trusting him with your life.

“45th and Madison, please.” You placed your purse into your lap and buckled up as he pulled off from your house, keeping his eyes on the road.

“How was your night Logan? Get any rest?” You stared at the side of his face, taking in his rugged features. “Good.” Was all he grunted, hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the busy streets of New York. You didn’t bother to question him anymore, not wanting to piss him off on this beautiful morning.

The car ride was silent on the way to your company, the only thing that couldn’t be heard was the soft hum of the car and the sound of the air conditioner blowing its cool air. And when he pulled up to your job, you opened your mouth to speak, “thanks, and here—.” you leaned over and handled him an envelope full of money, the scent of cigars and cologne invading your nostrils; making you swoon.

He muttered a thanks and you quickly got out of the car, “I’ll text you what time to pick me up! Later Logan~” You waved and smiled, watching the old man pull off into the nearby traffic—before you entered the double doors to your million dollar company.

You were one of the top businesswomen in the world, employing the most mutants and paying them fairly. You started this company when you were just a teen, not seeing any jobs for mutants when you were growing up—so you decided to make that change. You wanted a safe place for mutants to be able to work in, something like your mentor; Charles Xavier wanted.

You had to do it for your people, especially when the whole world was against you all.

Even though you were a multimillionaire and you owned a license, you didn’t have time to drive yourself around. You hired Logan after a friend recommended him. They praised him for everything that he did for them, he was more than a driver, and when got the chance to meet him in person—you were sold.

You grew very fond of the older man as time passed. He plagued your mind as you worked, his face clouding your thoughts while you were in important meetings—driving you insane. It was clear as day that you had a crush on him, however despite how you felt; you knew he would never think of you like the way you thought of him.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight? Wear that red dress that makes you look like a fucking supermodel?” The voice of your business partner and boyfriend broke you out of your daze, while the two of you ate lunch in the high-end lounge your company acquired.

Eric, was a guy you met at a press conference that supported you when you wanted to have more mutants employed and treated as normal in the world, when the public was against your kind. He was intelligent and an all around amazing person, and when he asked you out one day—the two of you immediately hit it off. You were happy to have him…..but there was something you didn’t like. He would put himself first before you.

He did this a couple of times, putting him and his buddies before you; and you called him out on it—but he always apologized and told you it wouldn’t happen again. Liar.

“Will it just be us this time? Last time it was me and your frat brothers. And I hate that night, you left me all alone.” You pouted and he chuckled before leaning over to kiss your lips. “It’ll just be us this time, I promi—hold that thought,” his phone started to ring and he quickly pulled it out; talking to whoever was on the other end. You sighed and continued munching on your food, before you headed back to your office; alone.

Logan was already outside of your office when you finally exited your company’s building. You hopped into the truck and he pulled off once you buckled up, heading into the direction of your house. “How was your day Logan?” You looked at him through the mirror, studying those hazel eyes of his, which connected onto yours as he answered you.

“Good.” You smiled and relaxed into your seat, enjoying the ride back home. “Oh, Eric’s and I are going out to eat. You can come inside while I get ready, it shouldn’t take long.” You beamed and he tensed up in his seat. You couldn’t see it, but Logan rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel at the mention of your boyfriend. He wasn’t fond of him, thought the guy was an asshole from the moment he met him. He felt like you deserved better, he knew you did.

But, who was he to judge? He was no saint himself.

After he pulled up to your house and the two of you entered, you were immediately greeted by your calico—Persia. She purred and rubbed against your leg before she spotted the tall man a few steps behind you. The cat inched over to him and sniffed his pants leg, before she rubbed herself against him; purring once more. Logan grunted and you smiled, reaching down to rub the soft furred animal, “she’s never don’t that before, she usually hisses at strangers. she must really like you.”

As you stepped deeper into your house, putting down your things and slowly stripping out of your work clothes, before turning to the grumpy old man standing at your front door, “He wants me to meet him there. I’m going to get ready, in the meantime are you hungry? Food’s in the fridge.”

“I’m good.” His voice was gruff and his face was blank, when he connected eyes with you, moving away from your cat. You unbuttoned the last black button to your matching button up, leaving you in your deep green matching underwear set—causing him to look away. “I have a huge liquor cabinet, help yourself.”

He watched as you ascended up the stairs before shaking his head and entering your kitchen. He admired your boldness, comfortable enough to undress in front of him, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to see you like that. No one did. Especially that fucked face motherfucka, Eric.

Logan took a look at your cabinet, impressed with your collection of wines, cognacs and other strong liquids; but he was more impressed to see this thirty year aged whiskey you had. Hibiki Whiskey, his favorite. He smiled to himself and grabbed it along with a glass, pouring a nice bit into it; before downing it—the smoothness flowing down his throat beautifully.

He sat on your couch, sipping on the dark liquor, while taking a look around your house. He found comfort in the decor, your home felt….safe. Something he hadn’t felt in ages. It was so safe that he couldn’t help but drift off into sleep, something he hardly did lately.

He must’ve been sleeping for a while, deep into his dream; this one a little different from the one’s he usually had about you.. You had frequented his dream world on occasion when he did sleep. Your warm smile was something he saw on a daily basis; when you were cooking for him or sometimes the two of you appeared in a field of flowers—your smile overshadowed the sun. But, this one was a lot different. You were on top, riding him.

Everything felt and looked so realistic. The same emerald green set you wore was glued to your body. The panties were pulled to the side, your essence sticking to them and his cock; while you bounced. Your body looked so beautiful and he knew he shouldn’t be dreaming about you like this, but he couldn’t help himself—especially when you turned around; face contorted in sheer arousal. And then he lost it, when you opened up your mouth and moaned his name.

“Logan~” fuck, he could feel you clench down on him, as you brought your ass down on him again—moaning his name once more. But this time you were louder, repeating his name over and over again; his tired hazel eyes shooting open, staring at your own. You were standing in front of him, wearing a beautiful ruby red dress; which clung to your body and accentuated your curves, smiling at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But, I need your help zipping up my dress—please~.” He nodded, shifting in his spot to hide the boner that was poking through his black corduroy pants—reaching over to help zip you up. His rough fingers melted into your soft skin, as he held his hand on your upper back for support; his mind going right back to his dream. Fuck, he was going to hell for dreaming about you like that.

You looked beautiful, standing a little taller than usual—thanks to your gold heels that matched your jewelry. You decided to curl your natural hair, which framed your soft made-up face. He could stare at you all day.

“Thanks. I’m ready to go!” And there you go with that smile, that slowly melted his cold heart.

You waited outside of the restaurant in the car, waiting for Eric to show up. It had been ten minutes since you arrived and he still wasn’t there, wasn’t answering his phone either. Your gut told you to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it—you were hoping he would show up. So, to get your mind off of him, you sparked a conversation up with Logan.

“Hey Logan, tell me about yourself. What do you do besides driving?” He clenched his teeth and kept a grip on the car’s steering wheel.

“Nothing.”

“Really? I heard you were a bodyguard and a hitman. What was that—“ He turned around and glared at you, cutting you off as he spoke. “Listen. I’m not one of your fucking girlfriends you sit and gossip with. Got it?” His voice was deep and scary, while his eyes told a different story. However, you nodded and looked away, blinking back the tears that wanted to leave your own.

Then, your phone rang and you immediately answered. On the other end of the line was Eric, apologizing about not showing up and begging for the two of you to reschedule. You swallowed the lump in your throat and told him that it was alright, saying you were tired anyways; before hanging up and slumping into your seat. “Take me home.” Was all that you could muster up to say, before a stream of tears cascaded down your face—ruining your makeup.

The car ride was silent, besides the sounds of your sobs—which slowly broke the old man. He kept glancing at you through the mirror, feeling like a dick because he played a part in your sadness too. But, an apart of him felt angry, he wanted to kick Eric’s ass for standing you up. How could he not see what was right in front of him?

As the car halted in front of your house, you immediately got out, slamming the door behind you before you sped walked to the front door—not looking back—too embarrassed to speak to him. And one he saw that you were safely inside, he drove off and headed into the direction of the nearby bar—ready to drink the night away.

This was one of the worst nights ever and neither of you would forget it.

The following days were like a blur for you. You hadn’t been to work for a week, taking some time off to try and understand your mental.

That day played in your mind over and over, you were hurt twice that night. But, the look on Logan’s face haunted you. You could tell there was more behind those eyes, besides all that anger, something else laid behind them—and you wanted to know more. No matter how much he tried to push you away.

Currently, you were sitting on your couch with Persia by your side, eating ice cream and watching whatever was on tv—ignoring the spam calls from Eric; when you were startled by a loud pound on your front door. You looked at the door then at Persia, fists clenched as your powers started to surge; before you started to creep towards the door. You swung it open, ready to pummel whoever was on the other side, until you saw who was standing on your porch.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, looking at the older man who was covered in blood and holding onto his arm. “Logan! What the hell happened?” You asked, helping him into your home and shutting the door afterwards—to hide him from any nosey neighbors; before you ushered him into your downstairs bathroom. He sat down on the toilet with a clang, before he started to remove his clothes; with your help.

“Whose blood is this?” You asked, putting his bloody beater into the hammer behind you before inspecting his scarred face. “Most of it was someone else’s. Don’t worry, I’ll heal.” He moved away from your touch, but you immediately pulled him back; your eyes piercing him.

“I know, but until your healing factor kicks in, im gonna help. And i'm not asking.” He chuckled and nodded his head, before you used your powers on him—stopping the blood from leaking out until his own power’s kicked in. One of his thick eyebrows raised in confusion, before you answered him.

“Blood manipulation. Now let’s put that shoulder back in place. Here, bite down on this.” You handed him a washcloth, but he declined.

“Just do it, princess. I can take it.” He reassured and you stared at him for a moment, before whispering an ‘okay’. Without warning, you gripped his arm and pushed it back into his socket, making him yell out in pain—his claws unsheathing in the process.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You apologized, making him shake his head in response. His claws retracted and he pulled you in by your waist—his body heat warming you as you stood next to him. His hazel eyes searched all over your face, lingering on your plump lips before backing up to your soft irises, “need a drink, right now.”

The two of you sat in your kitchen, sharing a bottle of ten year old cognac, while Logan shared stories about what he did—answering your question from last week. “I also take care of Charles….Charles Xavier.” You swallowed the smooth liquor, before responding.

“Oh, I knew that already.” He raised an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing. “He accidentally called on your phone, thinking I was Taco Bell, until I spoke with him. He’s a funny guy, I’ve always imagined he was……I was a big fan of his when I was younger.” There was some silence, as he thought about the Professor and his current state.

You got up from your spot and put your glass in the sink, done drinking for night, before going into the fridge for a snack—until his deep voice made you stop moving. “Look, princess….about the other night—“

“It’s fine. No need to apologize.”

“No, but I need to. I was a jerk and you just wanted to get to know me. So, I'm sorry.” He was now standing in front of you, towering over you, still shirtless from earlier. Your eyes trailed over his hairy, toned abs, before you looked up at his beautiful rugged face—pressing your thighs together as you felt that familiar pulsing between your legs. You nodded and turned on your heels to leave, but his rough hands pulled you back; making you stumble, before he caught you.

“What happened to you and what’s his face?” He spoke and you snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of Eric. “He’s an asshole, who likes to waste my time.“

Logan clenched his teeth, feeling himself get upset at the mere thought of him mistreating you. “Dick can’t see what the hell he has right in front of him?” You blushed, and bit your bottom lip, your smaller hands reaching up to toy with his platinum dog tags. “Neither can you.”

He froze and you stopped moving, eyes slowly looking up at his, until he leaned down and pulled you in a wet, sloppy kiss. His hands immediately went down to your ass, squeezing the soft fat through your tiny black shorts; something he thought doing for a while now. You squealed when he picked you up and placed you onto the countertop behind you, never breaking his lips from yours. Despite being an old man, he still had the same strength he did when he was younger.

He kissed down from your lips to your chest that was hidden behind your hot pink beater, nipples standing at attention. He circled the imprint of them with his tongue, making you moan out, before he made his way down to your clothed cunt; your arousal plaguing his nose.

“Knew you wanted this since earlier, could smell her calling out for me~” He swiped his tongue over your clothed slit, slick already staining the dark fabric. He pulled the shorts down with ease, hazel eyes growing darker as he was met face to face with your bare cunt; your essence making your puffy lips glisten.

“Shit.” He cursed, loving the sight of your pretty pussy dripping just for him, he couldn’t help but to dive in and enjoy the meal you had set right in front of him. The sensation of his beard and his tongue rubbing against you, made you moan out; back arching off of the counter and your hands tugging on his salt n pepper colored hair—grinding against his face.

He worked wonders on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, forcing more and more of your sweet translucent arousal from your aching hole; building up your orgasm. Logan spat against your soaked cunt, using his fingers to rub it all over soft lips; before pushing a thick finger into your hole—making you yell out a series of curse words.

“Gonna cum—f-fuck! Just like that Logan!” He continued to lap up your juice and pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them—making them punch your spot over and over; making you gush all over him. The grip you had on his hair was tight as you came, but he ignored it and continued to draw out your orgasm; before pulling away and pressing his wet lips against yours.

The kiss was sloppy, filled with nothing but hunger as you licked every inch of his wet face, tasting yourself; a low hum leaving his lips. And as your hand reached down to feel the bulge in his pants, he pulled away—making you whimper. But, when he backed further away and wouldn’t look at you, you noticed something was wrong.

“Logan?” You started, slipping off the counter, legs wobbling as you stood and walked over to him; only for him to back away once more.

“Gotta go. This was a mistake.” And before you could protest, he made a beeline to your front door, opening it and shutting it behind him; not bothering to grab his shirt or turning to look at you.

What the actual fuck?

You returned back to work the following day. Logan dropped you off of course, but he barely acknowledged you—evident he didn’t want to talk about what happened yesterday. But, you needed to talk about it, wondering what made him stop. Surely he didn’t think you would just be alright with him eating your pussy and making you cum, and not feel something about him?

However, you would deal with the grumpy old man later. Today, you had to face the asshole of the year, Eric. You left the car with a simple ‘bye’ to Logan, before taking the elevator ride up to your office’s floor, trying to push yesterday’s events out of your mind.

Your baby blue heels clicked on the wooden floor as you sashayed down the walk way, making heads turn and people cheer; excited for your return. However as you approached your office, you were stopped by your assistant, who had a look of worry on their face.

“What’s the matter?” You questioned, looking at your office before going back to your assistant. They gulped and prepared themselves to tell you what lies in your office.

“Mr. Eric’s in there...and he’s not alone. He’s with another—“ you cut them off and storm past them, opening the wooden door, eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of you. Your boyfriend was balls deep into your new intern, having her bent over your crisp white desk.

The sound of the door slamming shut startled them and the girl screamed, scrambling to pull her skirt down, while apologizing to you frantically. You held up your finger and shushed her, motioning to the door so she could leave. And once she did, you immediately sauntered over to the guilty male—body temperature increasing by the second.

“How long?” You questioned, your tone flat and emotionless. He stuttered, but then he looked down and looked back up—a devious smirk on his face.

“A good couple of months now. Why’d you think i pushed for you to hire her? What, did you think I’d actually love someone like you?” He chuckled, circling around you, while you raised an eyebrow. “And what does that mean? Someone like me?”

“Your kind! A fucking mutant! I’ve been using you from the beginning, I just wanted to get my hands on this company—have you mutants under my control. Starting with you—“ You set him flying back with a punch to his cheek, making him fly through the door; knocking it down.

All you saw was red as you marched over to him, your employees shocked at what was going down, but none of them dared to step in. “This….this is what I expected from you people! Pure chaos and violence.” He smirked, blood pooling from his mouth as he spewed his hate.

Using your powers, you were able to make more blood flow out of him; making a wound in his lung—which caused him to cough up some more blood. And as you raised your fist to punch him once more, your wrist was caught—stopping your movements. You turned to see Logan, his hazel eyes begging for you to stop.

He smelled danger when he was on his way up to your office, since you had forgotten your phone in the car he wanted to bring it to you. Only to be met with you about to kill a man.

“He’s had enough. Let him go.” You knew better than to protest, so you used your powers to close the internal wound on Eric; calming yourself down as Logan pulled you back into his arms. “Get him out of here, he’s fired!”

You were fuming in the car. Angry was an understatement, you were pissed. You were humiliated. You were hurt. Logan couldn’t stop checking on you through the rear view mirror, until he decided to pull over to the side of the road—putting the car in park. He hopped out of the car and opened up your side door, nodding for you to get out.

“Logan—what are you—“

“Let it out. It helps to let everything out.” You squinted and chuckled. How ironic of him to try and help you not keep things bottled inside.

“You can’t be fucking serious! You of all people, trying to give advice on their feelings? You’re the fucking king of keeping things in!” You stepped closer to him, but he didn’t budge, letting you get it all out of your system.

“You pushed me away from the beginning! Then you come in my fucking house like a wounded dog and then on top of it all—you made me have the best orgasm of my life and let me fall in love with you! Who does that!” Hot tears rolled down your pretty face, while you poked into his broad chest with each word.

You were right. He did push you away. He couldn’t open his heart, his stubbornness would allow him. But, he couldn’t let his past haunt his future, not anymore. So, he decided right then and there to finally open up and let you in.

Logan pulled you in close, the smell of his cologne and the cigar he smoked earlier was soothing; it warmed you—which made it easier for you to accept his kiss. All of that anger washed over you while your tongues danced with one another. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck; while gripping your hips and picking you up—making his way over to the car and placing you in the seats, laying you on your back.

He wasted no time and tugged off your clothes, your grey dress falling to the floor; along with your panties and bra. He stepped back, taking a moment to bask in your glory. You were beautiful and he was going to cherish this moment forever.

His slacks dropped to his ankles and you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his cock out, making them widen. “Knew you were huge~” you said, your slick pooled and dribbled down your crack, making the black leather seats glisten underneath you.

Logan grabbed his girth, rubbing against your swollen clit; eliciting moans from your sweet lips—coating himself in your fluids. Angling himself at your entrance, he pushed himself in; stretching you as he eased himself in.

“Good—…..girl. That’s it, princess—take all of it” He grunted, praising you as you were able to take all of him in one go. You winced, his tip pressing into your cervix, making you inch away from him—only to be pulled back in. He wanted you to sit there and take it. He was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Some dick.

He held your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he began to move inside of you—his strokes were deep and powerful; making your eyes roll back and your lids flutter. The more he moved, the more you grew aroused—making you a moaning mess while he fucked the shit out of you.

You clung to him with each stroke, making the older male grunt. Your tits bounced and clashed against each other as the two of you moved, hypnotizing Logan. He leaned down and plopped one of them into his mouth, sucking on your nipples like it was a peppermint. You moaned out, hands clawing at the back of the seat right next to you—pleasure too intense for you.

He was fucking you so good, splitting your pussy open with each movement; orgasm rising inside of you. “Please! Logan, I'm gonna cum! Wait—slow down—fuck!” He ignored your pleas, his pace increasing by the second. Who knew that this old man could have that much stamina?

Continuing to make a mess out of your pussy, he continued to rub against your g-spot—making your orgasm course through you. You clung to him and clenched around him sporadically, creaming all over him. He growled, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him—but you pulled out, causing him to groan.

“Sit. Wanna ride you.”

His hands clung to your waist, helping you bounce on his dick—filling you up completely. You gripped his shoulder for support, as the car rocked with your movements. The sound of your pussy and the clapping of your ass against him, made him feral and he couldn’t help but to grip your ass—hard, pushing you further down on him.

“Fuck, princess. Where do you want it?”

“Inside! Deep inside of me.” You didn’t care what would come afterwards. You just didn’t want him to stop fucking you. Logan pressed another kiss to your lips, rough hands smacking your ass as you moved wildly—walls getting ready to milk him dry. And with a few more hard bounces, he spurted deep inside of you, inner walls being painted a nice shade of white.

Rocking your hips against him, another orgasm made your body shake; cheeks jiggling against him as you came—moaning his name repeatedly.

The two of you stayed like that, his cock softening inside of you, while he continued to bottom out—before he pulled out, tip hitting your ass. You kissed him once more, content with how the night ended; finally with the man you deserved to be with.

“I love you….promise to not push me away?”

He smiled, the first time you saw it on his face, and nodded.

“I love you too.”

[angels-hideaway]

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱 I

Vampire!Caitlyn Kiramman x peasant!fem reader

part 2 ;; Chapter III

summary: Your life is a bore. Every day begins and ends the exact same way. That is until your father returns from his latest vampire hunt, and leaves you to deal with the consequences of his failure.

w/c: 5.8k

(if you don’t have Spotify, the song I picked for this chapter is The Devils Trill Sonata.” Violin cover by Sophie Mutter.)

Heavy footsteps echoed through the dark halls of the empty castle. The man, running as fast as his mortal feet could carry him, turned every corner and opened every door, searching desperately for the exit.

The crossbow he was carrying was empty. It was missing the wooden arrow he’d loaded it with to slaughter the vampire. The vampire who haunted the small, peasant village of Crows-Wood. Whispers of her ferocity, scary stories mothers told their children to keep them in at night, and the blood drained bodies found in the woods during the early morning hours all lead back to her.

The man’s eyes brightened with hope when he spotted the double doors spread wide open. He hadn’t slain the vampire, but at least he’d be the first to make it out of her castle alive. Just as he was footsteps away from the outside world, the doors slammed shut on their own. The result, a heavy gust of wind, threw the man back onto the floor.

He scrambled to his feet, and backed up against the door. His eyes scanned every corner of the room looking for her. The sound of clicking heels make her presence known. Out of the darkness, she appeared. A woman, tall, statuesque, and beautiful as death could be stared him down.

“I-I’m sorry! Please just let me go I’ll never come back!” The man pleaded. The vampire only walked closer. Her ice blue eyes were glowing in the faint moonlight. “What makes you think I would let you go?” Her voice echoed through the dark castle. “Please! I beg of you! I’ll never come back!” 

“Imbecile…” the vampire muttered. She got close enough to look down on the man, and corner him against the door. “I’ll do anything!” The vampire’s eyebrows raised at that. “Anything? Well then, make me an offer I simply can’t refuse.” 

Dawn light filtered through your bedroom window. The birds rose you from sleep, and you reached your arms out in a morning stretch. Another day in Crows-Wood, repeating the same way yesterday had.

“Has father returned yet?” Your little brother asked your mother at breakfast.  Your mother shakes her head sadly while separating some sweet porridge into three bowls. Your father went off last night to hunt the vampire in the old, scary castle up the hill. You never understood your father, or the vampire hunters as a whole. You were in the minority though.Vampire heads shriveled from the sun were paraded around, and their fangs were sold as gruesome souvenirs. 

Vampire hunting was the pride of Crows-Wood.

You understood that they were monsters, but surely, more killing wasn’t the answer. You’ve wanted to meet a vampire ever since you were a little girl. Just to sit down with one, ask them some questions, and perhaps come to an understanding. 

It’s still early morning when you leave your cottage for the market. Your woolen chemise and long skirt flowed gently in the light breeze. The village was awake and bustling. Horse drawn carriages going up and down the dirt roads, and people selling their crops and goods at little stalls.

You exchanged a dozen eggs for a few coins when a cry of terror made the whole street fall silent. “Help! Help me!” Your father runs out from the woods with a limp and multiple smaller scratches. The people gasp and chatter, and a few men go to help support him.

 “What happened!?” 

“Did you slay the vampire?”

“No one’s gotten out of there with their head!” 

When your father is seated in the shade, and everyone is gathered around, he finally begins to talk. “The vampire…she- she’s got black magic!” Gasps of horror erupt from the townspeople. “She’s a witch! She was going to kill me! But by the skin o’my teeth I managed to escape before she could drain my life away!” 

The people begin talking again, telling your father how brave he is and how lucky he was to survive. When it all dies down, your father sees you and motions you to come closer. “Out already this morning? You’re such a help to me and your mother. Now, could you help your father home?” 

When you finally get him through the door, your mother and brother hug him tightly. “Oh dear, I thought you were dead for certain!” your mother cries. “I’m sorry my love…but can we talk? Without the children around, please.” That’s your cue to take your brother and leave. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Your brother asks while you walk him around town. “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s something to do with father’s latest hunt.” You answer. “Father’s the first man to survive that creepy old castle! I’m certain everything will be alright!” Your brother pumps his fist to the sky. You don’t feel as confident though. 

Something’s wrong.

When you return home after about an hour, your mother is weeping. Not because your father returned though. Her tears don’t exude the slightest bit of happiness. “Oh, you two are back…” she mumbles. Strangely, she walks up to you and gently caresses your face. “You’ve grown to be such a beautiful young woman, my dear.” 

Her voice is dripping with sorrow, but she turns, and excuses herself to another room. 

That evening, you’re braiding your hair before bed when you hear your father calling your name. “Yes father?” He and your mother are seated at the dining table, with three warm mugs of tea steaming on the table. “Come sit.” He says.

Hesitantly, you take a seat at the table. “Is something the matter, father? Mother?” They both avoid your gaze. A small feeling of dread forms in your stomach. “You should…have some tea.” Your mother’s voice is closer to a whisper than actual speech.

Taking the mug in your hands, you take a small sip. The liquid burns your tongue, making you set it down instantly. “Going to that old castle may have been the most foolish thing I’ve ever done.” Your father says grimly. “I just want you to know that I don’t know what will from here.”

“What do you mean?” You sip the tea again, and again. It’s cooled down a bit. “I’m sorry for causing you all so much trouble.” Your father says. His voice breaks and he starts to weep. Before you can even ask what’s wrong, your head begins to feel heavy. 

You stumble, before collapsing to the ground. Your eyelids are heavy, and both of your parents are sobbing. “What’s…. Wrong?…” Your words slur and combine. The world begins to fade to black, until it disappears from you completely.

The sound of a fireplace wakes you. Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up. You’ve awakened on a red, velvety chaise with your wrists bound by a thick rope. There’s indeed a fireplace across from you, and a bright flame dances inside.

The ceiling of this strange room is painted with intricate frescos, and the walls are decorated with portraits of beautiful women. All share the surname Kiramman. Old shelves covered with cobwebs rest near the door, and a desk sits in the corner of the room. 

The sound of the door creaking open grabs your attention, and you turn to see who’s come in. A tall, looming figure stands in the doorway, making your blood run cold. The figure steps inside, and the faint glow of the candles reveal her face. 

Her eyes are a beautiful, cold shade of blue, and her skin is as pale as the moon. She’s beautiful. Despite your fear, you feel entranced by her. A dark blue jewel is nestled in the collar of her ruffled blouse, and her pants complement the color perfectly. 

“You’re awake.” She finally says. Her heels click against the floor when she approaches. Now, she’s standing right in front of you, observing you diligently. “The daughter of the foolish hunter. As beautiful as he said you’d be. Not that it matters any to me.” 

“Who-who are you?” Your voice is quiet and meek. “So he was too cowardly to even admit to what he’s done to you? Imbecile. The lot of them. Humans are foolish, cowardly little creatures. Especially the men.” Her voice carries an unmistakable venom. 

“What he did to me?” Your mind is reeling. You were sitting at the table, drinking the tea…

The tea. 

There was no way your clumsy excuse for a father could ever escape such a powerful vampires clutches without consequence. The tears, the way they avoided your gaze, and the tea.

Tears slip down your cheeks when you put the pieces together. The woman you’ve realized is the vampire speaks again. “So you’ve connected it all, haven’t you?” You can’t look at her. Your vision is swimming with tears.

 “So you’re…”

 “The vampire.” She finishes for you. 

“I suppose that is me. I let your father live in exchange for a beautiful young woman. I see she’s been delivered to me.” The stern scowl she wears never leaves her face. “The old fool is lucky he had a daughter. I much prefer the taste of women anyways.” She sits down in an armchair not to far from you.

You could vomit. Fear makes you freeze. Unable to move, a small croak escapes your throat. She remains seated, her eyes scanning every inch of your body, which is indecently exposed in your thin nightgown. 

“Let’s see…” she gets up and crouches down right in front of you. Your instincts make you flinch away from her. “I won’t harm you. I only want to examine you further.” Her hands gently caresses your bound ones. “Well this was just unnecessary.” She easily tears the rope and rubs your red wrists. Her touch is gentle, but that demonstration of her strength terrifies you. “There, that’s better isn’t it?”

She’s cold. Her skin is like ice. “You’re so warm.” She says, feeling your hands a little more. “May I know the name of my guest?” You tell her, and she repeats it experimentally. “How pretty.” Suddenly, she shoves her face into your neck. Your scream dies in your throat when you don’t feel sharp fangs piercing your skin. Instead, her nose brushes along your skin, and she sighs softly. Her breath is cold too. You flinch when you feel her tongue on your skin. 

“That’s enough!” You shove her away, and instantly regret it. You prepare for the worst, but nothing happens. “My apologies. Whenever I’m around such an appetizing person, I simply can’t help myself.” She stands, and heads for the door. Before she leaves, she turns around. “Please follow me.” You’re convinced you’re going to die. She just called you appetizing.

You follow the tall woman all the way to what looks to be a dining room. “Ah, I nearly forgot. You may call me Caitlyn.” She pulls out one chair for you at the end of the table, and takes a seat at the other end across from you. Many empty chairs are at the table too. In front of you is a plate with some fruit and bread.

“I’m sure you’re curious as to what will happen to you.” She pours a suspiciously red liquid from a bottle into a wine glass. Noticing your horrified expression, she explains herself. “It’s only pigs blood. Not my favorite, but it keeps me alive.” She swirls it around the glass before taking a sip. 

After a long silence, you ask “What’s going to happen to me?” Caitlyn looks up at you and sips from the glass again. “About that, I’ve found myself quite lonely this past century. I plan on keeping you alive.” You’re relieved. You sigh loudly. 

“There is a catch, however.” Caitlyn interjects. “I still plan on feeding from you.” A heavy feeling settles in your stomach. “Please allow me to explain. I’ll only do it once a week. If I were to feed off of you for four days consecutively, you’d die without a doubt. It’s only by chance that you would turn to a vampire after passing on. As long as I give your body time to recover, you should go on living fine.” 

“So you won’t kill me?” She smiles “Of course not. I could use some company around here.” You pick up a single strawberry from your plate and eat it. “Can I ask what exactly the deal was between you and my father?” Caitlyn’s expression darkens. “Just last night, he attempted to kill me with a wooden steak in a crossbow. I caught him, and he swore me the life of his daughter instead of his own. If he went back on his deal, I would have killed him.”

You’re crying again. Knowing that your father just sold you off to a vampire to save his own skin was a terrible feeling. “I am partial to human women, so I agreed.” That’s the second time she’s mentioned her preference for human women.

“If I may ask, why human women?”

Caitlyn finishes the glass of pigs blood and licks the rim of the glass. “That’s easy. I despise human men. Every last one of them are pigs. Liars, cheaters, and their blood is bitter and repulsive. I’ve found in my long life that women are often sweeter in both taste, and character. Easier on the eyes too. Girls like you make a much more appealing meal” a wave of heat washes over you. You always heard tales of how vampires were seductive on purpose to lure in naive victims. You weren’t expecting such ridiculous stories to be true.

“Is that why you were examining me earlier?” She nods “Clever girl. I wouldn’t say it’s why, I just wanted to.”  “I see…”

“Well,” Caitlyn stands up. “The sun will rise any moment now, so I will be going to bed. If you’re tired, please rest. If not, you’re free to explore. Don’t even think about trying to escape. This whole castle is under my control. If I don’t wish for you to leave, you don’t.” She sounds serious. “Yes ma’am.” 

That makes Caitlyn turn around. “You don’t have to call me that. Caitlyn is just fine.” If you’re eyes are not deceiving you, she looks a little flustered. So she does have emotions. 

 “There’s a spare bedroom much more suitable for a guest down the hall. If you’ll follow me.” Caitlyn starts briskly walking, almost too fast for you to keep up. Vampires are fast. You remember from the stories.

 Not another word is spoken between you two. She opens one of the double doors to reveal a lavish chamber with a large bed against the back wall. There’s already candles inside like she expected you to sleep here. You step inside, and look around. 

“There are plenty of clothes for you in the wardrobe. I suppose you can say I’ve been anticipating your arrival.” She leans down slightly to achieve an equal height with you. “Rest well. We’ll begin tomorrow.” She smiles “I’m confident you’ll be just divine.” With that, she walks away. 

You close the door and stroll idly around your new room. It’s beautiful. A vase of dark red roses rests on a small table in the corner of the room next to a chaise. The canopy bed’s curtains are black, and made from a thin lace. The sheets are soft and velvety. You crawl into the bed and collapse. As soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re asleep.

When you wake, it looks to be late afternoon. You must have slept very long. You spy the wardrobe from across the room, and get out of bed to investigate. The door creeks when you open it. Inside, are the most beautiful dresses a peasant girl like you has ever seen. They look like they’d belong to a nobles daughter, or maybe some kind of princess. 

You pull one of them out and admire it in the daylight. Stripping off your nightgown, you put the dress on and struggle to adjust the corset. The only thing that looks new in this castle is a mirror in the corner. Maybe Caitlyn bought it especially for you. There’d be no reason for her to own a mirror after all.  You stand in front of it and admire your own reflection. The dress hangs off your shoulders and falls all the way down to your ankles.

There’s a jewelry box in the wardrobe that catches your eye. You open it, and decorate your neck with a black, lace choker. You’ve almost forgotten your the prisoner of a vampire with all of this luxury she’s gifted you with. She said she would start today. Did she mean she’d start sucking your blood? 

The thought sends a chill down your spine. She doesn’t seem evil, but your fear remains all the same. You spend the last few hours of daylight roaming the castle. There’s a strange emblem all over the castle depicting two keys crossing over each other. It’s on the walls, old books, stray pocket watches, and old clothing.

It’s beginning to get dark. You find a candleholder with a wax candle still inside, and light it to find your way around. All the curtains in the castle are drawn except for the ones in your room. Vampires don’t like sunlight. You remember. 

“There you are.” You scream and drop your candle. Looking back up, you see it’s only Caitlyn. She stomps out the fire before it can spread, and picks up the holder. “I see you’ve been doing some exploring.” Her eyes look up and down your body. “And you’ve found my gifts in the wardrobe. That’s good. You look beautiful.” 

“Goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” You take the candle back and quickly look away from her. She’s barely dressed. The vampire is wearing another frilly blouse, but it’s only buttoned up halfway, leaving pale hints of her chest exposed. Thankfully, she’s wearing trousers. Caitlyn notices your embarrassed expression “Is something the matter? I apologize for frightening you.”

“No it’s not that. I just- thought I saw something.” You try your best to look her in the face. “I can assure you it’s just us in here.” She steps closer, placing one hand on your shoulder. It’s cold. “I’m feeling a little hungry.” You inhale sharply. “So it’s time?” She smiles. “Soon. Are you excited? I am. I haven’t had a woman in quite some time. It’s only men who come up here to bother me.” 

“Will it hurt?” What a stupid question. Of course it will, but you ask anyways. “It will sting, of course, but you must know that vampire bites contain a sort of…venom. It’s designed to make the victim yearn for whoever bit them first. So they won’t struggle when the vampire eventually drains their body dry. The bite will sting, but soon it starts to feel rather pleasureful. The whole process feels a little sensual, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

That’s not the answer you expected at all. “The next day, you’ll probably feel rather faint. You’ll be weak, maybe bedridden. I’ll care for you, and make sure you recover.” She sighs, and you see her tongue swiping across her lips. “This will be fun. Don’t you think?”

You’re back in your room staring out into the night when you hear your door open. “I don’t think I can wait any longer. Have you prepared yourself?” It’s Caitlyn. You sigh. “As best as I could. I’m still a little frightened.” Caitlyn comes towards you and sits next to you on the bed. “Please don’t worry. She leans in closer, and you lean away. 

“Don’t struggle. I’m trying not to hurt you.” She sounds serious. You feel her cool breath on your neck, and her fingers gently pressing down on your skin. “What are you doing?” She’s very focused. “Looking for a safe place to bite. If I do this wrong, you could die. Please hold still.” 

Her breath quickens before you feel her latch onto your neck. It’s not cold this time. A small whimper of pain escapes your lips when you feel the pulsating movement of her sucking. Her hand finds yours and her fingers intertwine with yours. She squeezes tight. Her other hand caresses your cheek. The strange pleasure Caitlyn described finally comes. The pain dulls, and your body feels fuzzy. 

“Caitlyn…” you whimper, and she responds with a hum. “Shh…” she quiets you Before going back to your bleeding neck. The hand on your cheek finds itself to your back, and she brings you closer to her. The whole time, you’re attempting to stifle your own noises of both pain and pleasure. 

When she finally pulls away. Her lips are red with your blood, and she looks rather dazed as if your blood contained its own venom for her. “I…I apologize… I took far more than I should have. I couldn’t help myself.” She gently lowers your weak body down onto the bed. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She leans down again, and you feel her tongue pass over where she bit you. “My saliva should heal the bite by morning.”

Everything is happening slowly around you. Your eyelids are heavy and your ears are ringing. The only thing on your mind is Caitlyn. So this is the work of the venom. When you see her by your side again, squeezing a rag filled with water over a bowl, you weakly grab her wrist. “Caitlyn?” She places the cool rag on your forehead. “Please don’t speak. I might get tempted. You won’t have control of your own mind for a little while. It’s the venom. See how it can be so deadly? If I really wanted to, I could have my way with you right now and you’d be completely hypnotized.”  

“Caitlyn” you say again. It’s like the only word you can say is her name. “Yes?” “Bite me again.” She laughs and you feel her cold hand on your cheek. “I’d love to, but I think that would kill you. I already drank far more than I should have. Besides, that’s not what you really want, is it?” She lifts your wrist and checks your pulse. “Your heartbeat has slowed quite a bit. I don’t think it’d taste as good anyways. Blood tastes best when the heart beats quickly. I wonder if there’s another way I could achieve that with you. Since I’m not hunting you, your heartbeat didn't increase much.”

You’re fading in and out of consciousness, before you fall asleep completely. When you wake up, the curtains are drawn, and Caitlyn is sitting down next to your bed reading. Your head feels a lot better. It seems the venom has worn off. “Caitlyn? It’s daytime.Why are you awake? She puts down the book she was reading and responds. “Yes I suppose I should be asleep. I decided to watch over you instead. Your blood was enough to completely rejuvenate me. I could stay up for a very long time now. You look better.” She looks over you and nods. You raise your hand to your neck and feel where she bit you. Sure enough, the puncture wound is gone. It leaves a dark bruise in its wake. 

“The skin takes a little longer to fully recover, but the bite is gone as I promised.” She removes the rag from your forehead. “I went ahead and put your nightgown on. I figured you couldn’t be comfortable sleeping in that corset. You sit up instantly at that. “You undressed me?” She looks confused. “Yes? Does that bother you? I see no issue with it. Remember, I am not human, girl. I don’t feel lust like a man would.” 

“I have a hard time believing that. You’re a vampire, and you said you like human women. Surely you feel some kind of desire. All the stories say so.” She stares off into space. “Not a chance. I only appreciate the taste.” She goes back to her book. 

Caitlyn was lying through her teeth. That was one of the hardest nights of her life. She’d almost forgotten why she loved human women so much, but last night reminded her. The sight of a girl like you completely subdued by her venom, lips parted and gasping, cheeks warm and flushed, and your half-lidded eyes never looking away from her. You were practically radiating heat. Every time you called her name, Caitlyn had to hold herself back. There were times she even had to step out of the room.

You were incredibly vulnerable then, and her instincts wanted to take advantage of that. That was the purpose of her venom. Caitlyn knew you’d be under her spell for some time, but she didn’t think it would affect her this much. She’d never let someone she’d bitten live long enough to see them like that. 

“Caitlyn?” You snap her out of her memory, and she jumps. “Apologies. I was just thinking.” You reach out of the bed and tap the book in her hands. “What are you reading?” Caitlyn looks down to the book in her lap and holds it up to you. “Studies of the Human Race? That sounds boring.”

 “Really? I find you quite fascinating.” She smiles, and you feel your face heat up. “You’re reading it to find out more about me?” She makes a sound of approval. “Physically. Though I suppose the best way would to just be to talk to you.” 

Caitlyn stands up and joins you on the bed. “So, what makes your heart race?” You cock your head and hum. “What makes my heart race? Uhm… I suppose being flustered or scared.. If I’ve ran a lot or done something strenuous, that would do the trick too. Why did you ask?” She looks very serious about this topic. “To a vampire, blood tastes better when the heart is pumping faster. I don’t have a living heart to test things on, so the only way I know to speed up a pulse is by hunting my victim. I have no reason to hunt you because you’re not running. I need something to get your pulse faster.”

You both sit there contemplating this strange dilemma. “I’m not really sure what to say. Uhm, do I not taste as good with a regular pulse?” Caitlyn grabs you by the shoulders “That’s not what I meant at all! You’re fine without it, I just…the thought of what could be is quite enticing.” She acts like that was offensive to you. Her fingers find your wrist and they press down. “Hm…How interesting. Your pulse quickens when I touch you.” “It’s because you surprised me. That’s all.” Caitlyn chuckles and lets go of you. “That’s nice to know. I’ll have to try it next week.”

It’s been four days since you woke up in Caitlyn’s castle. You’re able to find your way around a little more now, but there’s still areas you haven’t even explored. You’re not as scared of Caitlyn, but a healthy fear lingers when you’re around her anyways. It’s around nine o’clock when you enter the library and find Caitlyn in a rocking chair by the fireplace. She looks up from her book. “You’re still awake?” You nod and close the door. “What are you reading?” She stands and comes closer to you. “This is a fiction novel. It’s a romance.”

“Oh…Do you enjoy romance novels?” You ask. “Not especially.” She responds.Without warning, Caitlyn lifts your palm and kisses it. Shortly after she checks your pulse. “Why did you do that?” You manage to ask despite your internal panic.“it’s something the heroine in the story got flustered by. I thought I should try it.” She smiles at you. “Seems it worked. Human women are so very easy to excite. It’s adorable.” She’s looking at you with a type of strange affection no one ever has before. 

Caitlyn returns to her rocking chair and puts the book down. “That dress looks especially beautiful on you. I like the detailing.” The dress was a blood red color with black lace detailing around your chest, hanging from your arms, and a matching ribbon in your hair. “Thank you…” You sit down on the floor next to Caitlyn’s chair to warm up by the fire. The castle is colder at night.

“How long can you last with the amount of blood you drained from me?” She looks over at you and rests one hand on your head. “Well I feed from other things too, but I gather the most strength from human blood. If I wanted to survive on it alone, then I could for maybe two weeks.” Your curiosity for vampires was finally getting its answers. “Really? I’ve always found your kind quite fascinating.” You reply. “As have I.” You sit there in silence as she gently plays with your hair while reading. 

Around half an hour later, Caitlyn speaks again. “Humans aren’t nocturnal. It’s getting late. I enjoy your company, but I understand if you need to rest, darling.” You tell her goodnight and go to your room. When you’ve settled into the bed, your thoughts drift back to Caitlyn. She called you darling… 

It’s been days since she fed off of you, so this can’t be the venom. When you first woke up in this castle, you thought you were as good as dead. Caitlyn is surprisingly kind, and quite charming. She has the manners of a woman of noble birth.

A girl like you would have never imagined herself in such a situation. You wondered if your family missed you. If your father regretted leaving you here. Your life was so normal before this. Lazy mornings at the market, helping your parents with their work, and watching as the villagers rallied around burnt vampire corpses, and wore their fangs as jewelry.

There’s a knock at your door before Caitlyn enters. “Tomorrow, I’ll feed from you again. Just prepare yourself.” She closes your door. So it’s tomorrow… 

That day, you get dressed in an elegant yet casual dress. It’s a beautiful royal blue color, with black accents. The necklace you find in your dresser has that same emblem with the two keys. You put it on and admire how intricate it is. After eating a breakfast Caitlyn left out for you, you spend the day flipping though books. One of them is a journal titled “The Kiramman Vampire.” On the cover is the two keys again. Curiously, you read through the notes of research. 

Some things you already knew are scribbled down. Things like her wound healing saliva, the venom, and more. One particular passage catches your eye.

 “Vampires from the Kiramman family only fall in love once. They mate for life.”

  You would have thought vampires couldn’t feel love, but it seems you were wrong. Deciding to read more later, you bring the book to your room. 

You stayed up quite late, and you’re feeling tired. Because of this, you find yourself napping through the rest of the day. You wake up at dusk. Caitlyn is probably awake by now. You stay on your bed while flipping through the journal, until you hear your door open. Putting the book under your pillow, you turn on your side to see it’s Caitlyn. Today she’s  wearing a heavy cape with a collar that goes up to her chin. Under it is a black frilly blouse.

“Is it time?” She nods. “Do you want me to sit up?” She walks over to your bed. “No that’s fine. Stay as you are.” You stay on your back, and wait for her. When she gets on top of you, effectively pinning you down, you feel your heart beat faster. Just like last time, she holds your hand too. She feels your cheek for warmth, and lowers her head to your bosom. “Your heart is beating faster... Do you like this? Or maybe you’re scared.” You don’t speak, so Caitlyn lifts her head and brushes your hair from your neck. Suddenly she stops moving completely. “Caitlyn?” You call her name to see if anything is wrong. 

“…You’re wearing my crest.” She sounds amused. You remember the necklace with that emblem on it. The one you’re wearing. “Your crest? Oh! It’s a family crest! I found the necklace and thought it was pretty, so I put it on. I didn’t know…” She laughs “do you know what this looks like? She leans down to your ear. “It looks like you officially belong to me.”

Caitlyn kisses the side of your neck before sinking her teeth in. She sucks harder when you make a small sound of pain.You can feel the venom attacking your mind, and your body suddenly becomes heavy. You lift a hand to touch the back of Caitlyn’s head, but it takes every ounce of your strength. “Cait…” 

The strange, painful pleasure numbs your senses. Her hand squeezes yours tighter, and she hums in pleasure. When you feel Caitlyn’s teeth pulling out, you whine in pain. “I’m sorry, love…It’ll feel better soon…” She licks the wound left behind and stays on the bed next to you.

“How are you feeling?” The venom is making everything hazy. You lazily grab Caitlyn’s hand and bring it to your neck. “You should…. Do it again..” Caitlyn ignores your intoxicated response and plays with your necklace instead. When you lean into her touch, making her cup your cheek, she just looks at you sort of dumbfounded.

“You’re a very strange girl” She comments. “You must still be hungry. You should take more blood.” Your words slur and stick together. Caitlyn ignores you and keeps talking. “You were only frightened for the first few days or so. Now look at you. Cuddling up to me like a house cat. This is the second time I’ve fed off of you, and you already seem so comfortable here.”

“I like it here.” For once, you give a response unaffected by the venom. “My life was…boring before this. I’ve always wanted to meet a vampire. I’ve thought they were fascinating ever since I was a little girl. You want more blood right? Take more. Drain me completely..” Caitlyn stands and opens the curtains, letting the moonlight in. “That’s kind of you to say. I’m not hungry anymore though, and you’re completely under the influence of my venom. Rest. I’ll come back and check on you.”

Caitlyn leans down and kisses the healing wound on your neck before leaving. Sleep pulled your eyelids shut. The sound of rain beginning to tap against the windows gently, the gentle creaking of castle settling lulls you to a peaceful, yet intoxicated sleep.  

[callofdoobie420]

Thinking again about neighbor!Price and his sweet little bird down the street…(kind of a pt 2 to this)

Out on another of his walks, that have only increased in frequency since you moved in, he sees his pretty bird huffing as she tries to shove a massive box through her front door. He would have to talk with you about that. He had given you his number for this specific reason.

Jogging up behind you, he offers a greeting before putting his hands on either side of you. Pushing himself up close so he trapped you between the box and himself.

“Okay dove, on three,” he says, so casually, like his beefy arms aren’t completely distracting you.

Clearing your throat, you nod and give a big push when he counts to three. It only takes three more heaves before you two have the box sitting just inside the house.

“So what’s this love?” John asks, eyeing the box. Searching for any clues — typical military man.

“New dresser,” you chirp back to him happily, shutting the front door behind you. “Comes in like a million pieces though, so I will be putting it together after lunch!”

John nods as he continues to study the box. Thrumming his fingers on his chin, he hums before turning to you.

“I’ll build it for you,” he says, so firm, like it was already decided.

“Oh no John-” you begin to protest, but he holds a hand up. Silencing you.

Good girl, he thought to himself. So obedient.

“Now now, I don’t want to hear none o’ it,” he smirks confidently at you, relishing a bit in the small blush on your cheeks. “How about you just make me some of that lunch too?”

You nervously tuck some hair behind your ear, a small nod as you look up at him.

“Sounds like a fair deal,” you smile sweetly, before turning to head to your pantry.

You bend over into it, John absolutely eyeing your perfect ass. Pulling out a small tool box and handing it to him.

“I hope everything you need is in there,” you blush, a bit sheepish at how unprepared you must seem to him.

He took the toolbox from you, ensuring he brushed his fingers along yours, “I’ll make do with what you got, sweetheart.”

With a smile and a nod of his head he started to drag the box back to your bedroom. Not even bothering to wonder how he knew which was yours. It’s not like you told him when he helped move you in.

After a bit, you appear in the doorway, “Knock, knock,” falling cheerfully from your lips. “Oh my goodness, you’re nearly done already!”

You move quickly past your bed to where he was tightening on one of the last few knobs. Smiling over at him as you run your hand along the top.

“Thank you so much John,” you smile widely, before shaking your head, “oh, um, I have lunch ready!”

He smiles at your demure and soft nature, nodding as he finishes tightening the last nail. Wiping his hands on his jeans as he stands from his kneeled position.

“You are absolutely welcome dove,” he purrs, stepping closer. He lifts a hand, brushing back the same strand of hair as you did earlier.

“You know what they say about building furniture for someone, love?” He asks, letting his hand move, his knuckles brushing over your cheek. His palm opening for your face to settle into it. You stare up at him, almost mystified, “It implies that one day we will share it,” he smirks down at you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

(Is the ending inspired by new girl? Yes. If you caught that do I love you? Also yes. 🫶🏼)

[wheeboo]

"bluetooth hug!" | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which being long distance with your boyfriend comes with its perks. PAIRING. kim mingyu x fem!reader GENRE. fluff, comfort, suggestive, established relationship WARNINGS. mingyu basically using all the terms of endearment in the world, mingyu being absolutely smitten and so so in love with you it's ridiculous, they talk abt wanting to kiss each other A LOT save them from this distance, so yes kissing lots of kissing that i had wayy too much fun writing, lots of teasing from mingyu, brief shirtless mingyu moment, suggestive undertones, suggestive at the end, implied sexual content WORD COUNT. 8k

notes: personally after a kinda bad experience with long distance, i don't think i'd be able to do it LMAO. anyway! i had this idea for a while lmao n just couldnt stop thinking abt mingyu yelling out "bluetooth hug!" to the camera directors in TTT :((

“Wait, baby, baby, look at this!”

When you look back at the phone, Mingyu is proudly showing off his new collection of shot glasses, each one lined up on a shelf in his kitchen. He eyes each one before grabbing one up to the camera with a boyish grin.

“Ta-da!” he exclaims, gesturing like a game show host showing off a prize. “I told you I’d start collecting these when I travel, and look! Aren’t they cool? This one... I think... This one is from Jeju Island. This other one is from Paris…”

Your boyfriend has always been quite the adventurous kind. It’s the first thing you noticed when you tapped on his profile on Tinder and you were greeted by a plethora of photos of Mingyu in all sorts of places𑁋hiking in the mountains, posing in front of famous landmarks, and even one where he was holding a street food skewer with a bright, goofy grin. His bio had read, “Always looking for my next adventure! Maybe you can join me someday? 😙”

At the time, you had laughed at how cliché it sounded, but there was something about his energy, the way his smile lit up every photo, that made you swipe right.

The only catch was that he lived in an entirely different country.

Fast forward six months later, and here you are, completely and utterly smitten by the same man who had once been a stranger behind a screen. Even though your relationship is entirely virtual, it has blossomed in ways you didn’t think possible. Unfortunately, you’ve been occupied with studying for university and schedules filled to the brim, and Mingyu was quite busy checking things off his own bucket list, so there were hardly any opportunities for the two of you to finally meet.

Still, you loved hearing his stories and seeing the world through his eyes, even if it was through a screen.

Mingyu carefully places it back on the shelf before showing off another one to the camera. You can’t help the smile spreading across your face as you watch him enthusiastically present each shot glass. His cute little fangs show along with his grin, and it’s moments like this that make the distance between you feel just a little smaller.

“One day, I’ll fill this shelf up.” Then he turns his attention back to the phone, watching you diligently typing away some notes on your laptop. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You shoot a glance to the screen.

Mingyu juts out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, resting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not paying attention to me,” he whines helplessly, dragging out the words like a kid vying for attention.

Letting out a giggle, you scoot your laptop away from your phone, the screen dimming from off your face. You shift your position so that you're properly facing the screen now, giving him your full attention.

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “Yes, my precious, annoyingly clingy boyfriend?”

Mingyu’s only pout deepens, and he crosses his arms over his chest as if to make his disappointment even more prominent. “You’ve been so busy with work lately... I miss you.”

“How could you miss me when we haven’t even met yet, Gyu?” You jest teasingly.

His features soften at your words, uncrossing his arms and leaning in closer to the screen, and it’s almost like the huge distance between the two of you lessens slightly.

“I don’t need to meet you to miss you,” Mingyu explains sheepishly. “I just... All I have to do is think about you and it’s like you’re here, but not really here, you know?” He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink that you can see even through the screen. “Gosh, the things I would do to just have you in my arms right now…”

A dreamy look lights up your face. You swear you could almost feel his presence right by you just from his words alone, but they aren’t enough to ease the longing ache in your chest, aren’t enough to fill the gap that stretches between the two of you. You let out a soft sigh, your heart warming at the thought of him.

“I think about it a lot, too,” You murmur gingerly, glancing down for a moment before meeting his gaze again through the screen. “About finally getting to be close with you.”

Even through the screen, you see the way his face melts, an expression nothing short of longing and expectation. His fingers drum against the counter, and you can tell he’s thinking of what to say next. The troublesome expression he wears tells you that it’s probably not something good.

“Tell me,” he says, resting his chin on his palm again. “What would we be doing if I was there right now?”

A thoughtful look crosses your features, but the answer is already so clear in your mind you could almost feel it.

“Cuddling?” You quirk a playful brow up at that. “Cuddling while listening to you talk... That would be nice. But then at some point, I’d get tired of hearing you talk, and just𑁋”

“Just what?”

“Hmmm,” You start, an impish flicker of your lips. “I’d shut you up with a kiss.”

Mingyu sputters in surprise at that, his brain and thoughts running haywire. “Oh? Oh?” He leans closer to the screen, a mischievous glint in his eyes now. “That’s dangerous talk, baby.”

You tilt your head amusedly. “Is it now?”

“You can’t just say things like that.” He pouts again. “Knowing damn well I can’t do anything about it. That’s just cruel. A crime, even.”

“Come on, I’m just speaking facts,” You retort back. “Now, tell me. If you could do something about it, what would you do?”

Mingyu lets out a sigh. “Don’t do this to me, babe.”

“I’m just curious,” You hum innocently, resting your chin on your palm now, mirroring his posture. “Would you kiss me silly?”

Mingyu’s gaze flickers back to you, and there’s something undeniably fond in the way he looks at you.

“You already know I would,” he grumbles. “I’d pull you in my lap and kiss you soooo hard that you wouldn’t be able to crawl away from me.”

You hum again, pretending to consider, despite the heat crawling up your neck. “Sounds nice.”

“Nice?” Mingyu scoffs at your indifference. “Just nice?”

You giggle. “Okay, okay𑁋really nice. Amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic. Perfect, even.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “That’s more like it.” Then, he leans in just a bit closer to the screen, voice dropping slightly. “You’d be the one begging for me to stop talking then.”

Your stomach flutters, but you roll your eyes. “Okay, well, now you’re just being cocky.”

“Am I wrong, though?” He smirks, and you hate how good he looks doing it. “The moment I see you, I won’t be able to stop kissing you for a long, long time.”

For a moment, the teasing pauses, and all you can hear is the gentle hum of your heartbeat. You look into his eyes𑁋those same eyes that always made you feel both safe and that you could conquer the world all at once. You crave the feeling of his arms around you, his lips teasing you in real life, not just through words.

As you’re about to speak, though, a notification pops up on your computer.

When you read it silently, you let out a defeated sigh.

Mingyu notices your worry right away, like he always does. “Deadline notif?”

“Yeah,” You mutter, pulling away from the phone screen to force your laptop awake again. “I should wrap up this assignment, and you should go to sleep, Mr. Big Talk. You keep staying up for me.”

Mingyu groans dramatically, letting out a pettish whine. “The universe is always conspiring against me. I still wanna keep talking to you.”

You laugh softly. “I think you’ll survive, you big goof. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

You watch as Mingyu picks up his phone, trailing over to where you could catch glimpses of his living room. He plops down on the couch with that same, irresistible sulkiness from earlier before a sudden gleam of mischief lights up his features.

“One more thing,” he says, sitting up excitedly, propping the phone down on the table before opening up his arms towards the camera. “Bluetooth hug!”

You blink confusedly. “Bluetooth what now?”

“Bluetooth hug,” he repeats, and you can tell how serious he is about it. “Since I can’t hug you in person, we do this instead.”

Your heart stutters at the sheer ridiculousness and sincerity of it all. “Gyu, you’re so𑁋”

“Shhh,” he hushes, wiggling his fingers like he’s beckoning you forward. “Just do it, baby. Please?”

With a chuckle, you shake your head, but you can’t deny him, not when he’s looking at you like that. Raising your arms, you mimic his motion, pretending to wrap them around his broad frame through the screen.

“Bluetooth hug,” You quip, and you can almost feel his body pressed up against yours at the thought. “There. Happy?”

Mingyu flops back onto the couch, a dazed look to his face. “Mmh, best hug ever. It’ll be our thing now before we end the call.” Then he pans the camera down to his chin, and gosh, he looks extra kissable right now. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you go now, okay?”

You give him a faint smile. “Okay.”

Some moments of silence pass, like neither of you want to break the spell that’s bound to you both. It happens basically every time𑁋where neither of you want to end the call, until one of you finally gets the guts to do it first, only to instantly miss the other right after. 

Mingyu stares at you for a few more seconds, like he’s trying to memorise every detail of your face before parting ways, and you do the same𑁋hoping to hold on to this moment a little longer.

“Okay,” he murmurs finally, his voice soft but resigned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You whisper back, trying to fight the tug at your heart. “I’ll miss you.”

He grins at you one last time, his boyish charm lighting up his face, and his gaze is soothing. “Miss you more, baby. Sleep well.”

And with that, the screen turns to black. Even though he’s basically an entire ocean away from you, you still feel his warmth lingering around you.

“Wait, I think you passed it! Go back a little, baby.”

You furrow a brow as you push back the shopping cart, nearly saving your phone as it almost falls off from where it’s perched idly on the child’s seat. You show off the endless rows of foods and packaged goods towards the camera, giving a better angle for Mingyu to see.

“Like... here?” You tilt the camera slightly, showcasing the aisle packed with different types of pasta.

“Yes, that’s the one!” Mingyu’s excited voice blasts through your headphones. “Get the one with the red logo, do you see it? It’s the one I always use for my spaghetti.”

Mingyu had brought up your bi-weekly tradition of cooking together as a little date night. Since the two of you obviously aren’t able to cook in the same kitchen, this was the next best thing𑁋letting him guide you through the store to pick up ingredients and calling over FaceTime while making the same recipe. Although, this time, it’s Mingyu’s own special recipe.

You pluck the spaghetti noodle pack from the shelf and place it into your shopping cart. “Okay, got it.”

“Perfect,” he says, completely satisfied. “Now, next is Parmesan cheese... Oh, baby, get some garlic too. Fresh, not the pre-minced kind.”

You roll your eyes at his determination, yet a smile tugs endearingly at your lips. “Affirmative, oh-great chef.”

Mingyu wiggles his brows at that. “Say that again.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh as you push your cart down the aisle, trailing towards the produce section of the store. “Nope. You get it once, and that’s it.”

He lets out a groan. “Ugh, you’re such a bully. Just say you hate me and want to break up with me already.”

“I lovingly hate you,” You tease, reaching for a bulb of garlic and holding it up to the camera. “This work for you?”

He narrows his eyes, inspecting it through the screen, his head tilted like he’s some sort of critically acclaimed food critic. “Hmm... yes, that one looks good. You pass.”

You chuckle, dropping it in your cart. “Lucky ol’ me.”

After you finish shopping for all the ingredients, you find yourself lining up at the register for check-out. You compare the ingredients to the list Mingyu had sent you. Spaghetti noodles? Check. Garlic? Check. Basil? Check. Parmesan cheese? Check. Tomatoes? Check...

“Okay,” Mingyu starts. “I’ve sent the money for the groceries to your card.”

Your eyes widen at that. “I𑁋Gyu…” Then you roll your eyes, knowing you can’t argue back with him. “You know, my frontal lobe may be averagely developed, but I’m a grown adult, with money of my own.”

“Yeah, well, I’m also a grown adult who wants to spoil his favourite girl,” Mingyu retorts back playfully. “Let me treat you once in a while, okay?”

You card a hand through your hair. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Mingyu simply grins at that. “I really am.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” You remark, pushing your cart up to the register. “I’ll call you when I’m home.”

“Drive safe, okay?” he says, suddenly softer. “Text me when you get there.”

Your heart does that annoying little flutter it always does when he’s sweet with you like this, swallowing down the warmth creeping up your neck, your fingertip lingering on the end call button. “I will.”

By the time you get home and call him back, Mingyu is already in his kitchen, phone propped up against the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbow like he’s about to film his own cooking show. The sight of his exposed arms makes your stomach do a flip.

“Welcome, welcome,” he beckons with poise. “Tonight, I, Chef Mingyu, will be guiding the love of my life in whipping up the best spaghetti of her life.”

You snort, setting your phone against the kitchen backsplash. “Pretty bold claim, mister.”

His infectious grin only shines with confidence. “Just wait and see, princess.”

The two of you start cooking together, Mingyu guiding you through each step like a seasoned pro𑁋boiling the pasta, sautéing the garlic, and getting the sauce to the perfect consistency. All while he’s playfully critiquing your chopping and cooking skills (“Baby, what is that? Are you making garlic chunks instead of minced garlic?”), and you teasingly mock his over-the-top chef persona (“Should I start calling you ‘Gordon Kim’ now?”).

The comforting aroma of tomatoes and garlic fill your kitchen as the sauce simmers, bubbling gently under the heat. You find yourself standing at the stove, slowly running a wooden spoon through the makeshift sauce.

“Make sure you’re stirring it evenly,” he chimes in randomly, watching you intently.

“I am stirring it evenly.”

Mingyu squints, bringing the phone up to his face as if that’ll definitely help him see better. “Mmm… I don’t know, precious. Let me see the consistency.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift the wooden spoon, letting the sauce drip back into the pan. “Chef Kim, does this meet your expectations?”

He taps his chin theatrically. “You are barely passing, but I’ll allow it.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “I am literally following your recipe, Gyu.”

“I know, and I’m an amazing teacher,” he says smugly. “Okay, let's check on the pasta. Should be al dente now.”

You grab a fork and scoop up a strand, blowing on it before taking a bite. “I think it’s good?”

Mingyu hums, watching you closely. “Are you sure? Not too soft? Not too hard? Do the official chef bite.”

You raise a brow. “Please enlighten me on what the official chef bite is.”

He straightens up his posture confidently, dramatically miming the act of chewing like some Michelin-star judge. “You gotta, like, taste it with full concentration, eyes closed, and nod like you’re making the most critical decision of your life.”

You roll your eyes but comply anyway, exaggerating the nod just for him, claiming in your best food critic voice, “Ah, yes. Exquisitely divine. A fine noodle with a delicate texture.”

Mingyu beams at that, and walks over to give his pasta noodles a quick taste test of his own. He moves with a sense of elegance in his step, albeit slightly chaotic. He’s always been like this, always throwing himself fully into whatever he loves, especially cooking. And right now, he’s throwing himself into making sure you get this recipe just right.

As the two of you finish draining the pasta, you begin to toss it into the sauce, ensuring that it’s properly mixed. Mingyu watches you carefully, your lips pursed in concentration.

“Make sure every strand is coated and𑁋oh!” He leans in closer to the screen, watching you mix. “Don’t forget to leave a little bit of pasta water.”

You pause mid-stir, eyes narrowing at him through the screen. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I drained all of it?”

Mingyu’s mouth drops down to the floor. “Baby, no! The starch in the pasta water helps the sauce stick better.”

You huff defeatedly. “Guess my spaghetti is less Mingyu-fied now.”

“It’s okay, you’re still a beginner,” he assures. “My love and patience are boundless.”

“Wow, you’re so generous.”

You scoop the pasta into a plate, sprinkling a generous amount of Parmesan cheese on top of it, tucking in some loose noodle strands with a fork to make it cute for your little dinner date. Mingyu does the same, positioning his plate just right so you can see it on screen.

You set your phone up against the tiny succulent on the table, grabbing your fork in hand.

“Moment of truth. First bite together?” Mingyu suggests excitedly.

You nod, twirling some spaghetti onto your fork and holding it up. “On three?”

“One, two…”

“Three.”

An explosion of flavours coat your tastebuds, your eyes widening in surprise. You chew through it leisurely, savouring it with a pleasant hum, before diving in for another bite. Mingyu’s attention is solely focused on you as he takes a bite of his own, his face lighting up with triumph as he soaks up the way you’re enjoying it.

“Damn,” You wipe some sauce off the corner of your lip. “This is really good.”

“Yeah?” His eyes crinkle with pure happiness. “Knew you’d love it, sweetheart.”

The two of you continue to eat together, and it’s almost as if he’s sitting right across from you at the table. You catch him up on what the week has showered down on you, rambling to him about something in regards to one of your professor’s strict grading style, and he fills you in with a humourous story that happened to him with his coworker Soonyoung at work two days ago.

Even though you’re in different places, it’s moments like these that make the distance feel smaller, that make time feel infinite𑁋knowing one day, you’ll be with him in person.

And as you finish your last bite, you can’t help but think𑁋if love had a taste, it would be this.

“I’m stuffed,” You mutter after washing your plate in the sink, plopping back down in the chair. “And need a shower.”

Mingyu lifts a brow, smirking devilishly. “Take me with you.”

You shake your head, sending him a suspicious look. “In your dreams, pervert.”

“Can’t help it, love. You’re absolutely ravishing, even in dream-form.”

A lump forms in your throat at your boyfriend’s downright shamelessness, heat threatening to spread its way and infect all parts of your body. Mingyu basks in your reaction with a prideful grin, biting at his bottom lip to suppress a giggle.

Then, as if he had read your mind, he outstretches his arms towards the camera.

“Bluetooth hug?” he asks softly, wiggling his fingers in invitation, as if he’s attempting to reach out to you through the screen. He always knows how to get under your skin so easily.

You give him a roll of your eyes, before extending your own arms towards him as well, the two of you curling your arms, basically hugging the air. But even in the empty space, knowing that he’s right on the other side is enough to make it almost feel like the real thing. Almost.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, squeezing himself tightly. “That’s me, right there with you.”

Your heart stutters, warmth blooming in your chest. “I feel it.”

A pleased look paints his face, but then his voice turns teasing again. “Wish I could do more than just a hug, you know…”

Your fingers twitch against the screen. “Oh?”

“Oh.” His grin turns wolfish. “You’d like that, huh?”

You only sneer, but there’s no real bite to it. “Goodnight, you dirty-minded freak.”

Mingyu shoots you a kiss through the screen. “Goodnight, pretty girl. Dream of me.”

And as you hang up, face warm and heart full, you know sleep won’t come easy𑁋because every little word, every little tease, lingers, like the taste of his love on your tongue.

“I talk about you, you know.”

Your attention is momentarily taken away from the book in your hands, and you peer towards Mingyu on your phone screen, who appears to be completely submerged within the comfort of his bed. The sun has nearly risen on his end𑁋as he is stubborn and wants to fall asleep at exactly the same time as you𑁋while the sky is plagued with darkness on yours. He looks adorable, as he always does, and your chest can't help but tighten at the sight.

“What?”

Mingyu emerges slightly out of the sheets, revealing more of his pretty bare face. “To my friends, my family. I talk about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that.

“You do?” You murmur, setting your book aside and shifting under your blanket as well.

Mingyu only nods, resting his cheek against his pillow. “Of course. All the time. They probably think I’m obsessed with you.” He gives a sheepish grin. “Which, I mean... they wouldn’t be wrong.”

A quiet laugh escapes your lips, but it doesn’t quite mask the way his words turn your insides into mush. “What... What do you tell them?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think hard. “I tell them about how amazing you are. How we met on Tinder and how it grew from there. How you make me laugh so effortlessly. How you somehow always know exactly what to say. How you’re unbelievably pretty and cute and sexy when you’re focused on something𑁋like, seriously, it’s unfair, babe.”

His words swirl around you like a thick fog, settling over your body and creeping in within the crevices of your heart. A smile crawls its way across your features, half-buried in the pillow, but for some reason, it simmers just slightly.

Because you talk about Mingyu too𑁋to your friends, your family, hell even strangers you’ve known for a day. He probably doesn’t realise himself how much you speak so fondly of him day-to-day. Yet, the thing is, there are people who have told you that long distance relationships hardly ever work. Or that meeting Mingyu through a dating app meant that your connection with him is bound to fizzle out after some time, that it wasn’t real love. Those words stick to you like an annoying flea sometimes.

But if those people could see you right now𑁋see the way your heart leaps out of your chest when Mingyu smiles through the screen, the way his voice alone can make the world feel a little more bearable, the way he talks about you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky𑁋maybe they’d understand.

However, there’s always that tiny part of you that worries.

Because what if they’re right? If love isn’t this, then what is?

“...and I tell them I’d do anything to finally just… be with you, you know?” Mingyu continues mindlessly, before stopping, as if sensing the sudden shift that you weren’t entirely listening. “Baby?”

You blink, shaking off the thoughts. “Huh?”

Mingyu’s brows knit together slightly. “You okay? You kinda went all quiet.”

You hesitate for a moment, caught between shoving your thoughts away and admitting the quiet fears that gnaw at your skin during the wee hours of the night. But Mingyu knows you too well. He always does.

“Yeah,” You respond quietly, but it’s more than obvious how unconvincing your tone is. Even a three-year-old could probably sense it.

Mingyu doesn’t press, at least not right away. He watches you carefully, waiting, giving you the stage to decide how much you want to say. That’s one of the things you love most about him𑁋his patience when it comes to you being vulnerable with him, his effort in wanting to communicate with you, his willingness to listen when you’re ready.

So you exhale, pressing your lips together before whispering, “Do... you think this will last?”

Mingyu adjusts his position to get a better look at you. “What do you mean?”

You swallow nervously. “I mean us. Long distance, life pulling us in different directions one day. People say it’s not sustainable. That... maybe this isn’t real love.”

Mingyu’s eyes darken at that, his jaw tightening as if his body is physically rejecting the idea. “Who the hell says that?”

You let out a weak, humourless laugh, giving a shrug. “People who think love only works if it’s easy, I guess.”

Mingyu’s expression just softens, his gaze carefully boring into you as if he’s searching for every ounce of doubt in your words. He leans closer to the screen, making the distance feel smaller, if only for a moment, just as he always does.

“Listen to me, angel,” he prompts. “Love isn’t easy. It never is. It’s work. It’s effort. It’s choosing someone over and over again, even when it’s hard. If things ever get hard between us, then we fight for it. Because this? Us? It’s real, precious, no matter what anyone else thinks. I’d literally walk the entire earth just to tell you that we’re okay.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t respond. Because this, you realise, is what love is, right? It’s not just the soft, dreamy moments of cooking together through a screen or whispering sleepy goodnights before ending the call. It’s this𑁋being honest about your fears and knowing that no matter what, the person on the other side isn’t going anywhere.

That this𑁋he𑁋is worth every mile. And no matter what anyone says, this love? It’s real. You know it is.

Mingyu’s voice drops, more gentler now. “Do you believe me, love?”

You could only let out a soft laugh, letting the warmth bloom throughout your face at his words. “You’re too confident for your own good sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m confident because I know what I want,” he replies matter-of-factly. “And what I want is you. I love you. I could scream that to my next-door neighbours right now if I wanted to. I’m in this for the long run, so... I guess you’re stuck with me now.”

You scoff a little. “I guess.” Before your expression merely melts, your worries lifting off your chest. “Thank you, though. I... I really needed that. I love you too.”

His grin turns radiant, like the sun peeking out at sunrise, so full of adoration that it makes your heart stutter. “Yeah?”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

Mingyu clutches at his chest in a dramatic fashion. “Say it again, please. I need it in writing. Maybe a voice memo for proof so I could replay it for hours.”

Though you’re notorious for leaving him on the edge sometimes, this time, you can’t help but cave in.

“I love you too, Kim Mingyu.”

You swear you see the temptation in his face that he could practically leap off the bed and bounce off the walls in his room from giddiness, just like an overexcited puppy. His mouth stretches into a cheesy, toothy grin, and he lets out some sort of muffled squeal𑁋half a cheer, half a laugh, all purely Mingyu.

“God, baby, I think you killed me again,” he tells you, cheeks pained from all the ridiculous smiling he’s been doing. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Like, really kiss you. Wouldn’t even hesitate.”

You breath hitches at the thought, but you attempt to play it cool. “And what if you come here and discover I’m the most disastrous kisser imaginable?”

Mingyu’s eyes widen in comical horror. “Impossible. There’s no way I’d believe that. You’d have to try really hard to be a bad kisser, babe.”

You roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free. “I’m serious. What if I’m an awful kisser and ruin everything?”

“Then I’d just kiss you again,” Mingyu responds, completely unbothered, as if that solves everything. “And again. And again. Until I figure out how to teach you properly. I’d take a hundred bad kisses if it means I get to kiss you a hundred times.”

“Wow,” is all you can utter out. “You’re really down bad for me, aren’t you?”

Mingyu’s grin widens even more, if that’s even possible at this point. “Down bad? No, baby, I’m crazy for you. To the point I think I’ll suffer from a heart attack one day. There’s a difference.”

You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head fondly at how absolutely unapologetic he is in his affection. It’s one of the many silly quirks you love about him𑁋how he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to show it, even from cities away.

When you shift in your position within your covers, a yawn escapes from you as the exhaustion finally begins to catch up with how late it is. You don’t really know how long the two of you have been calling, but you don’t bother to check for yourself.

He’s your little infinity.

“Tired?”

“Mmh, yeah. A little. Been a long day,” You respond with a low mutter, stretching your legs out under the sheets.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, before reaching out to grab the pillow right next to him, wrapping an arm around it and squeezing it tightly.

“Bluetooth hug!” he exclaims eagerly, voice muffled into the pillow.

The corners of your mouth lift as you grab your own pillow, squeezing it with the most affection your body could muster. It’s the closest thing you have to him.

“Bluetooth hug,” You repeat back with a sleepy smile.

“Fall asleep with me?” Mingyu proposes with a sly look.

“Unless you want your phone to explode later on,” You remark playfully. “Sure.”

The two of you are swift to curl yourselves comfortably under the sheets, the only sounds being the occasional shift of Mingyu in his bed and your quiet breathing. You feel Mingyu’s eyes still on you even as you’re struggling to stay awake, a simple, comfortable silence taking over in the way you both simply exist in this bubble of virtual connection together.

“Gyu?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you. Goodnight.”

Maybe love isn’t easy. But with him, it feels like the easiest thing in the world.

“Goodnight, baby, I love you too.”

You don’t really need to say anything more than that; the simple truth of his presence, even through a screen, is enough. The love, the connection, the trust you share together𑁋it’s all there. It’s real.

Eventually, the call fades into silence, the sounds of your quiet, rhythmic breathing and the steady fall and rise of your chest being the only things Mingyu can see and hear. He stays like that for a few minutes𑁋just simply taking you in within the darkness of your bedroom he hopes to share with you one day, admiring you from afar, knowing you’re just a screen away yet somehow right there beside him.

When he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep, he lets out a breath he’s been holding within his chest.

“One more month,” he whispers to himself as he closes his eyes, the gentle sound of your breathing lulling him into a peaceful state. “One more month, and I'll finally get to hold you.”

One more month, and everything will be right.

Your overthinking may as well make your brain combust.

Mingyu hasn’t called you or has been answering his calls for the past ten hours, and it’s making you worried sick.

Your mind runs through all sorts of scenarios, ranging from the logical to the most absurd. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he’s just busy. But ten hours? Mingyu always, always makes time to send at least a quick text if he’s not available, always makes time to call you at least twice a day, and would definitely let you know if he can’t call at all. What in the world happened?

This was definitely not how you imagined you’d start your March break with, with your boyfriend basically going AWOL-radio silent on you for almost half a day. You try not to let your thoughts spiral too much, but your chest tightens nonetheless. Is he okay? Did something happen? What if he got into an accident? What if he lost his phone? What if𑁋God forbid𑁋he’s ghosting you?

No, that last one is absolutely out of the question. This is Kim Mingyu we’re talking about. He would rather cut off his own limbs than ignore you for this long without a good reason.

You chew at the inside of your cheek as you stare at your phone, debating if you should call again or to send another text, or if you’re going overboard from being worried over literally nothing. You’ve already spammed him enough𑁋eight texts, four missed calls, and a voice memo where your tone was a mix of concern and frustration.

Just as you’re about to work yourself into another wave of panic, your phone vibrates on your nightstand. You scramble to grab it, barely registering Mingyu’s name flashing on the screen before answering, bringing it up to your ear.

“Mingyu? Where have you𑁋”

“Hi, baby,” he interrupts, voice warm like melted chocolate, but there’s something else there too𑁋something you can’t quite place. “Sorry I didn't call earlier. Were you worried?”

You let out a breath, flopping back against your pillows. “Worried? That’s an understatement. I was already debating if I should call that Wonwoo guy to track you down. I thought you got kidnapped or something!”

Mingyu lets out a breathy chuckle, the sound oddly laced with amusement. “I promise, no kidnappings today. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, love.” There’s some rustling sounds on the other end, like the sound of a piece of clothing being adjusted or the wind breezing through the air. “Are you home right now?”

“I𑁋Of course, I am. Are you? You sound like you’re outside.”

On the other end, Mingyu clears his throat. “I... uh, I had to do a lot of errands today.”

“Errands?” You frown, sitting up straighter in bed. “Since when do you run errands for ten hours straight without answering your phone?”

“Um, since... today?” he tries, voice holding that signature boyish charm, but there’s an unmissable nervous edge to it.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Gyu, what are you up to?”

“Nothing, nothing!” He laughs, but it sounds a little too forced. “Just… stuff. Important stuff.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You caught me,” he teases, but you hear the sound of a door closing on his end, the faint rustling of fabric, then𑁋what was that? The beeping of an elevator? Your brows knit together in confusion.

“Gyu,” You deadpan, your tone serious. “Where are you, really?”

“Home, obviously,” he answers, his footsteps echoing on the ground through the phone. “Can you do me a favour, baby? It’s a quick one, I promise.”

You huff a breath, unsure how much more you can tolerate him avoiding your questions. “What?”

“Check your front door.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, pursing your lips together at his words, throwing the covers off your body anyway. “Gyu…”

“Go open your door,” he repeats, voice soft now, almost giddy. “Please?”

“Did you send me a package?” You ask back. “I swear to God, Gyu, I’m going to be in a lot of debt just to pay you back.”

You hear the smile that blossoms on his face, even through the call. “Nonsense, baby. It’s just a small gift.”

Your mind races, breath catching in your throat as you practically throw your phone on speaker mode and stumble clumsily out of bed. With each hurried step towards your front door, your pulse thrums louder in your ears. This better not be a joke. This better not be some elaborate prank where he’s made you run to the door for nothing, or else you’ll kill him.

Pausing in front of your door, you take in a deep inhale.

Hand shaking slightly, you unlock the door and pull it open𑁋

𑁋and nearly stop breathing altogether.

Because standing right there, under the dim glow of the hallway lights, is Kim Mingyu.

Your Kim Mingyu.

Live. In person. Not pixelated through a stupid phone screen with spotty WIFI.

Kim Mingyu, in all his six-foot-something, broad-shouldered, grinning glory, standing on your doorstep with a suitcase propped by his side. His eyes glow under the dim apartment light with unrestrained joy as he takes your vulnerable appearance𑁋barefoot, hair slightly disheveled, drowning in an oversized hoodie that he bought you for Valentine’s day, your face a mixture of disbelief and awe. He’s drinking in the sight of you just as much as you’re drinking in him, standing frozen in the doorway.

“Bluetooth hug?” he requests shyly, voice slightly breathless, holding his phone up and ending the call. 

Before you can even fully register everything, your body moves on autopilot. One second your feet are rooted to the floor, the next you’re launching yourself at him.

Mingyu barely has time to react before you’re in his arms, wrapping yourself around him in a tight embrace, your face burying into his chest. He lets out a soft, breathless laugh before his own large arms curl securely around you, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. His scent washes over you𑁋warm, familiar, safe𑁋and the moment his hands splay across your back, the reality of it all finally sinks in.

He’s here.

For the first time ever, he’s really, truly here.

And you’re sharing your first ever hug together. Not a Bluetooth hug, not that little hugging emoji he sends you through text. A real one.

“You idiot,” You mumble against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater. “I can’t believe you𑁋”

“Believe it, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the crown of your head, his hold on you tightening. “God, you feel so much better than a pillow.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sob, tilting your head up to look at him. His gaze softens instantly at the sight of you, his hands cradling your face like you’re a precious gift. For a second, his eyes drop down to your lips, before coming back up to your face. You’re so much more beautiful in person. A phone screen is incomparable.

He sucks in a breath.

“You flew here?” You ask him, still caught in a daze of disbelief.

Mingyu chuckles, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek. “Of course, I did. Didn’t want you spending your March break alone. But, uh…” He licks his lips, eyes dipping to yours again. “I really need to kiss you right now.”

You let out a soft hum, peeking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Hmm, well, do you?” You murmur, allowing your fingers to trail lightly over the nape of his neck. “I think you’d have to earn it.”

Mingyu blinks at that, letting out a choked sound𑁋half-frustration, half-amusement. “I just crossed an entire ocean for you, you little devil.”

And you know you can’t counter anything back with that, because he did.

“Yeah,” is all you can say with a heartfelt look, flickering a gaze at his lips as well, granting him permission to cross that line. “You did.”

And then his lips are on yours.

It’s slow and tentative at first𑁋like he’s taking his precious time memorising the feel of your mouth against his for the first time. It’s way better than what his dreams have given him, way better than what his fantasies have showed, way better than anything else he could imagine. But then you sigh against him, melting into him completely, and a coil within him snaps.

Mingyu presses into you firmly, causing you to stumble back towards the doorframe, deepening the kiss with a low, pleased hum and a wicked smirk that you could feel. You part your lips slightly, coaxing his tongue to sweep against yours, and he swallows the sounds that elicit from your mouth. It’s full of need, full of want, full of desire. His hands tighten around your waist, fingers gripping at the fabric of your hoodie like he never wants to let go.

Your knees feel weak, almost like jelly, and you swear you might actually float away if it weren’t for the way Mingyu holds you in his grasp, the way he keeps you his.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps against your lips, the heat of his kisses blossoming its petals throughout your body. “You taste like home.”

When you pull away slightly, breathless, Mingyu chases after your lips with a small whine.

“Come on.” You take his hand in yours for the first time, and it’s almost familiar in the way he fits perfectly in your hold. You can definitely get used to this. “Let me show you around.”

It’s the last night of your March break.

Which means, it’s also Mingyu’s last night with you too.

You don’t know where all your time with him went𑁋how it passed by so quickly yet so slowly. You’ve shown him so much of your world in just this miniscule window of time, shown him various spots in your city that created a particular chapter in your life, and yet, there’s still so much you want to share with him.

You watch as Mingyu stuffs some of his belongings into his suitcase. His flight is not until the next day, but seeing him begin to pack already makes your chest squeeze tightly. You feel as if he’s already perfectly settled his way into your chaotic routine, as if he’s already belonged in your day-to-day life. Even if it’s inevitable, the thought of your relationship going back to what it once was𑁋behind a simple screen, a simple text𑁋makes your stomach twist into a knot.

But you can conquer it, right? Most of your relationship has been spent doing long distance, anyway. He could always fly back to see you again, and you could always wait for the opportunity for your schedule to be free to finally cross that threshold into his own life.

This is merely the beginning for the two of you, merely the start of something new.

“You keeping that?” Mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his affectionate eyes watching the way you're threading your fingers through one of his shirts.

“Yeah,” You give him a faint smile. “Smells like you.”

An airy chuckle leaves him, his gaze taking in the saddened, defeated features of your face. He drops the pants he was folding up and picks himself up, sitting down right next to you at the edge of your bed. Leaning in, he presses a reassuring kiss to the tip of your nose, making your face scrunch cutely.

“You know this isn’t the end, right?” he assures, reaching out to lock a hand with yours. “I could always come visit you again. In the summer, most likely.”

“I know,” You reply dispiritedly, running a finger over his knuckle. “but I... I don’t want you to feel pressured to come visit me all the time. You have your own life, Gyu. I don’t want you to put everything on hold for me.”

Mingyu exhales softly, tilting your chin up so you're looking into those dark, warm eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies in them.

“Baby,” he murmurs tenderly. “You are my life.”

Your breath catches at that, and before you can say anything else, he’s already leaning in, capturing your mouth with a slow, sweet, loving kiss. A low whimper leaves you when he trails his lips to place one at the corner of your jaw, his hands finding its way to your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You don’t have it in you to resist𑁋you never could when you’re with him, anyway.

“I don’t care how far apart we are,” he whispers against your skin, the warmth of his breath fanning over you. “I’ll always come back to you. Every single time. I’ll make time for you, no matter what, as long as you have me.”

And you want to have him. For a long time. His words wash over you like a calm, ocean tide, one that laps deliciously up your skin and drags you deeper into his embrace. Your heart beats in time with his, and it feels like you can’t get close enough. His lips brush back along the line of your jaw, and then, with a daring shift of his mouth, he presses a soft kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You inhale sharply, feeling a surge of heat rush through your body.

“Gyu…” You breathe out weakly, but he hears it, of course, the way your body reacts to his touch.

“You’re so cute,” he continues, lips ghosting over the column of your neck. “My girl, my princess, my entire heart. And I’ll make this entire night worth it for you, yeah? So you don’t forget it when I leave.”

The sweet promise of his words spikes up your pulse, rendering you breathless and melting into the arms of your mattress. Mingyu pays particular attention to a sweet spot on your neck, one he’s gotten to know very well now, nipping lightly. Then he lets a hand slide under your shirt, causing you to let out a gasp. The room suddenly feels confining, almost too suffocating to breathe in, yet you crave the closeness to him, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only girl that matters in the world.

“God, I need you,” he pants thickly. “I can’t leave without having you just one last time. Will you let me, baby? Let me love you tonight?”

The only thing you can do is nod, and that’s all it takes. Mingyu slowly peppers his kisses back up to your mouth, pulling away slightly to gaze at you. Desire clouds his half-lidded eyes, but his features reveal nothing short of devotion, adoration, just pure love. Compared to his other kisses from before, the one he simply gives you next is soft, languid.

Then he pulls away from you fully to stand up, and you watch as he grabs the hems of his shirt and pulls it off effortlessly, granting you with the sight of his chiseled, sculpted torso, his honey skin glowing under the dim lighting of your bedroom.

You gulp down a lump in your throat as he steps back towards you, looming over you with the familiar, teasing smirk tugging at his face. Then he dips his head down to catch your lips in a slow, tantalising kiss. His hands find their way to your waist again, fingers pressing firmly as he gently coaxes you backward down to the bed, easing you down with him.

He delicately cages you within the safety of his arms, his warmth swallowing you whole as he hovers above you. His lips don’t just kiss𑁋longing plagues how he lingers, how he tastes you like he’s memorising every inch of your mouth, like he’s afraid to forget the way you feel beneath him once he leaves.

His body shifts slightly, pressing you further into the mattress, slotting a knee between your thighs in a way that makes your head dizzy.

When he pulls back, he relishes the flushed look to your face with pride.

“My pretty girl,” Mingyu praises under his breath, already pushing up the ends of your shirt. “I’m all yours. Always.”

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[cellythefloshie]

;; Moments of Care    by cellythefloshie

Summary: Overcome with worry when you didn't arrive for a date, Quinn went to your apartment and found you in a time of need. Kinks & TW: Hurt/Comfort (Migraines). No Smut. Undefined relationship. Word Count: 2k+

Pale light from his phone screen flickered across Quinn’s face as he sat parked outside your apartment, squinting into the darkness. Two hours had passed since you were supposed to meet him for dinner, three since your last message. If this had been a first date—or even the third—he might have shrugged it off. But after four months, it didn’t sit right. 

You weren’t just some girl who vanished after a whirlwind weekend. You were—well. While neither of you had put a name to whatever this was, long stretches of road trips had made defining things complicated. And maybe—probably—he wasn’t sure if you had been treating him with the same exclusivity he found himself giving you. But Quinn liked to think that, for all intents and purposes, you were his.

It was the very reason he was sitting outside your apartment in the middle of the night, telling himself that he was crazy for driving across the city – but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He could feel the rhythmic racing of his pulse against his neck as he looked down at the message you had sent him. 

I’ll meet you there. 

With a sigh, Quinn leaned across the passenger seat and looked up at the apartment building you called home. He looked over each window, trying to remember just which one was yours when he saw them; Your curtains. He could see the faint flutter of the fabric and the wind blew in through an open window and it was highlighted by the amber glow of the street lights outside.  Beyond them, he could see nothing, only darkness.  

A knot tightened in his chest. He had to check on you. Had to knock on the door, hear your voice—see you, even if it was just to have you tell him to fuck off. As long as he knew you were okay.

Getting in, however, was another matter. He didn’t have a key.

There was an intercom at the front door, one that he had used the handful of times he had visited you at your apartment. He approached it quickly, the collar of his jacket popped to block out the chill of the wind. And as soon as he had pressed your suite number into the system, his hands delved into his coat pockets. It let out its droning ring, over and over again, begging to be answered only to disconnect when you didn’t answer. 

“Fuck.” His breath came in a mist as he exhaled sharply, raising both hands to his lips, rubbing warmth back into his fingers. He didn’t know anyone else in the building, and from what you’d told him, you barely knew your neighbors either. But he was desperate.

Reaching out, Quinn punched in the number of the suite next to yours. Declined.

The one across the hall. Ignored.

Then, just as the last ring of the suite beneath yours faded into silence, the lock on the front door released. No words exchanged. No questions asked. Either someone was expecting a visitor, or they simply didn’t care who they let inside. He didn’t hesitate.

Quinn ran through the hallway and to the stairs with complete disregard for the elevator. He took them two at a time until he reached your floor, and moved down the hallway until he came to your door. He froze there for a moment, fixing his scarf and finding his composure with a steady breath. 

He knocked. 

Nothing. 

In an instant, it felt like his scarf was constricting around his throat, and without thinking, he reached down for the door handle and twisted it slowly. He expected it to be locked, but to his surprise, it clicked open. 

Quinn peaked his head in first, before slowly entering your apartment that was cloaked in darkness. He welcomed himself in with caution steps, worried that he might run into a pair of shoes or furniture he wasn’t familiar with by the door. The last thing he wanted to do was startle you as he stood in the entryway, unannounced and uninvited. 

He hesitated, then spoke your name softly.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, as if he had imagined it, a low muffled groan. 

Your name left his lips again, louder this time, weighted with concern. Caution vanished in an instant. Quinn tore off his coat, striding toward the source of the sound. The bathroom.

His hand skimmed the wall, fumbling for the light switch. A harsh glow flooded the space, spilling into the hallway, casting his shadow long across the floor.

The light had barely settled before your soft, broken plea cut through the air.

“Turn it off, please. I can’t— It’s too bright.”

*“Sorry,” Quinn said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached back out for the light switch. The room fell back into darkness, the only light the amber glow of the street light that had greeted him outside. He swallowed back a lump that formed in the back of his throat. Quinn had his answer. You were safe at home, but you weren’t okay – and suddenly Quinn felt useless. 

You were laying on the bathroom floor, unmoving. The light was off, but Quinn could still see the pained expression on your pale face and the glassiness of your eyes as they fought back tears. And in the silence, he could hear your ever uneven breath that was so close to becoming a cry. 

It was on your third date, when you had to cut it short because of a headache, that you told Quinn that you were prone to migraines. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He had seen so many injuries in his career–concussions that would rob players of their careers, bruises that would linger for weeks and breaks that would only mend with a little help of titanium or steel–that he was convinced that a headache with no clear cause couldn’t be so severe. 

He was wrong. 

Yours seemed worse than any he’s ever had, or witnessed, before. 

“Just,” Quinn reached a hand up, raking his fingers through his hair, “Just tell me what you need, please. I’ll do anything.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t even look up at him as you sighed. “There’s nothing anyone can do,” you told him, your tone sending Quinn’s heart sinking into the depths of his chest.  He knew that tone all too well. Defeat. 

“I’ve taken pain killers, I’ve seen countless doctors and-” you cut yourself off, and Quinn could feel your hand reaching out to him, your finger tips grazing over the hem of his pant legs. “How did you even get in here Quinn? I-” you started to stutter, “I was going to meet you at the restaurant.”

“That was two hours ago,” Quinn sighed softly as he dropped down to his knees on the floor. 

Carefully, he reached out through the darkness, his hands finding your shoulders and drawing you in. Quinn hugged you to him, face burying into your hair as he took in a deep breath. “I was worried when you stopped messaging me back. I thought–” he placed a kiss to your scalp slowly, “I thought something happened.” 

“I’m okay,” your words were a hot breath felt against his arm before you placed a careful kiss there. 

Quinn almost smiled as you nuzzled into the crook of his arm, but then he felt the hot wetness of tears that had been silently streaming down your cheeks in the cover of the darkness. An almost successful deceit. 

He said your name in a slow hum before continuing, “you’re not okay. You’ve been laying on the bathroom floor. Let me help, please.”

“I was trying to get into the bathtub,” you explain slowly, weakly. “The hot water. It helps, but whenever I tried to stand up, my head would pound.”

“Okay,” Quinn sighed, “that’s something I can help with.” 

Slowly, he eased you up off the floor just enough to lean you back against the strength of his chest. Quinn let you rest there a moment, making sure you were steady before his hands began to gather your hair. You had done it before the migraine struck, he was sure of it. Each tendril was soft and silken between his fingers, but tangled from the mess it became from laying on the floor. He gathered it carefully, securing it up and away from your face. It wasn’t perfect, but at the very least it was out of the way. 

“Do you trust me?” Quinn asked you in a whisper. 

He felt you nod slowly against his chest silently. 

Slowly, Quinn’s hand found the hem of your shirt, pausing just long enough for you to lift your arms up over your head. His knuckles dragged against your stomach as he eased the fabric up over your head before it was lost on the floor. He traded it for his own shirt as a veil of modesty. It was a simple white t-shirt that was too big for your frame. It swallowed you up as he worked it onto you, hanging loosely off your shoulders the way all his clothes did on you. 

Then, without a word, you reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra, and let it drop to the floor. 

Quinn’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected that. 

His eyes flickered down to the button of your jeans, then back up. The glow of the amber lights sent your face a glow. Your eyes were shut and your skin glistening with tears or sweat – something that looked more like glitter in the night. And there was a calmness in your features, one he didn’t know how you found when in such pain.

“Can I…?” He started, his tongue seemingly swelling up in his mouth. 

This wasn’t the first time he had helped you out of your clothes, but this time was different. There was no rush to feel your skin against his. No desperate need to fuck – no, it was more intimate than that. 

When you nodded again, Quinn reached down with a careful touch and loosened the waistband. He felt you shimmy and slipped down his chest as you struggled to push them down with him seated behind you and instead of letting you struggle, he helped. Quinn moved slowly, easing you off his chest into a sitting position before he moved to kneel in front of you. There, he carefully tugged the denim down your legs, his hands steady and gentle as he held his breath, forcing himself to remain focused. 

“Almost done,” he promised you as he pushed up from the floor and arched over the side of the bathtub. He turned on the water and remained there, his hand hovering over one faucet then the other as he debated: Hotter? No, colder. Bubbles? No bubbles? He had no idea what he was doing, but not once did you complain as you waited with your head in your hands. 

When the tub was filled up just right, Quinn kicked off his shoes and  reached down to the waist of his own pants and worked them down to his ankles. He kicked them out of the way before kicking his socks off with them. 

“What are you doing? Quinn!” Your question became a soft yelp as he scooped you into his arms. 

“We’re getting in the tub,” he told you simply, stepping in first before settling down with you between his legs and against his chest.

The hot water lapped against his skin as he helped you, the fabric of his t-shirt floating weightlessly around you. His hands moved slowly through the water, scooping it up and letting the water trickle down over your shoulders and neck. 

“Is this helping?” He whispered against your temple, pressing the faintest kiss there.

You didn’t speak, answering him with nothing but a nod again. 

Then, you almost startled him, as your hand found his beneath the water. They laced together slowly, your touch drawing his hand to your chest and hugging it there. You relaxed against him, the tension melting away in the heat of the water as you whispered, “Thank you, Quinn.” 

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[neeeooon]

Hi! Can I request Blue Lock boys with an S/O who is just as protective over them as they are? For example, defending them when someone is bitching about them or starting an argument w them for no reason. The boys deserve to be fought for too! Also I would like it if you write for the Itoshis, Isagi, Kaiser, Nagi, Barou and Zantetsu. I'm sorry if its a lot ㅠㅠ you can choose from these characters if its a lot. Thank you <33

YES ofc and i agree we need more defensive/protective y/n’s !! thank you for the request! <3

when you’re protective over them ;

bf bllk x protective gn!reader. cw: lots of cussing in isagi’s (by you), lowk harassment in barou’s, pet names (multiple in zantetsu’s)

itoshi sae

-> sae doesn’t care much for drama or defending himself. he’s blunt and he finds it pointless, since people will always find a way to entertain themselves one way or another

-> you are not like that

-> “oh my gosh, are you itoshi sae? can we get a picture with you?!” a group of high schoolers giggle and jump around your boyfriend in excitement, but you can see the tension in his shoulders as he raises a hand. “no.”

-> “aw, come on, please? we’re your biggest—“ “did he stutter?” that shuts them up pretty quick. “no? hm, me neither! now, kindly leave :)”

-> they do ask told, grumbling about how mean you are, but you ignore them and turn to sae. “why don’t you fight them off or something? your space gets invaded all the time.” “they would have left eventually.” “hmph. good thing you have me to fight your public battles!”

-> sae doesn’t care enough to fight any battles, but he finds your protectiveness cute, so he pats your head and says, “perfect. good job, y/n.” you may have blushed

itoshi rin

-> you want to fight his brother so bad when rin finally tells you his side of their disagreement, but you don’t because you know some battles don’t involve you

-> others do. like the wannabe interviewer who approached your boyfriend one day to hound him for answers about his relationship with sae

-> “i, uh… i-i—“ “what the hell do you think you’re doing? get away from him!” you barely have time to look both ways before running across the street and throwing yourself between your pale boyfriend and the pushy “interviewer”

-> he groans at your interruption and pops an annoyed hand on his hip. “excuse me, we’re in the middle of something—“ “rin, do you want to talk to this guy?” rin shakes his head, and you raise a brow at the interviewer. “he said he doesn’t want to talk to you. that means leave before i make you leave.”

-> “you can’t threaten me! you should respect your elders, young—“ “it wasn’t a threat. it was an option. you can either walk away now, or crawl away later. the choice is yours.”

-> he chooses the former, leaving you with your shaken boyfriend. “are you okay? that guy was totally insensitive and pushy and… are you okay?” “i’m okay. thank you, y/n.” “don’t thank me. i’m here to love and protect you!”

isagi yoichi

-> isagi was raised in such a loving home. where do you think his potty mouth came from?

-> “touch a hair on his head again, and i’ll make you watch as i fuck your mother,” you spat at the boy writhing on the floor after punching him in the face

-> blinking at the scene before him, isagi shakily wraps a hand around your shoulder and pulls you away from the guy who’d dared to grab his hair while he was in your sight

-> “you didn’t have to punch him—“ “i’m sorry, i just really hate when people think they can put their dirty, disgusting, shitty hands all over you without asking. it’s so icky!”

-> he’s about to say ‘i can defend myself,’ but isagi likes having someone love him enough to defend him like you do. it makes him feel special, and he hopes you know he’d do the same if anyone tried messing with you

-> “you’re awesome, y/n.” “i know. kidding, you’re really fucking awesome too, yoichi!”

michael kaiser

-> you were already protective over kaiser before he told you about his past. knowing why he’s so stiff around older men just adds fuel to you protective flames

-> you’re shopping for groceries with kaiser when an older gentleman wearing a pxg jersey approaches, and you’re immediately on high alert

-> “hey, you’re that kid from, uh, bltv!” he scoffs, and you can feel kaiser’s grip tightening around your hand. “yeah, it’s you, alright. your teammates play dirty. you’re all d—“

-> you’re in his face before he can get the words out. “finish that sentence. i dare you.” you smile sweetly, but you know he can see the threat in your eyes. “see what happens.”

-> flustered, the gentleman hesitates a moment before turning and continuing his shopping elsewhere. you turn to see kaiser staring at you with wide eyes, his fingers wrapped loosely around his throat. “you… defended me?”

-> “of course i did,” you keep your movement casual, trying not to alarm him as you carefully pull his hand from his neck and knot your fingers together. “you’re mine. no one will ever speak to or about you like that as long as i’m here.”

nagi seishiro

-> nagi is too lazy to defend himself. which is where you come in!

-> you’re at a gaming cafe, searching for seats, when someone shoves past your boyfriend, knocking him back slightly from the force of the push

-> nagi would have brushed it off, but the guy puffs his chest out and puts his finger in your boyfriend’s face. “you gonna apologize, dick?”

-> nagi tries to slink away, but the guy goes to grab his hoodie, and your hand is on his wrist. “what the fuck do you—?!” “you’re not going to touch him again. grow a pair and get the fuck out of our way.” “!!!”

-> but he must see how dark your stare is, because the guy shivers and pulls himself from your grip so he can leave

-> sighing, nagi drapes a loose arm around you shoulders and pulls you into his side. “what a hassle. you didn’t have to do that.” “yes, i did. someone’s gotta defend you, ya lazy boy.” “lame… i love you.” you kiss his cheek. “i love you, too.”

barou shouei

-> it’s not like barou needs your protection. that doesn’t mean you aren’t protective of him, anyway

-> with soccer comes fame, and with fame comes fans. some who think they have some sort of claim over your boyfriend and his body

-> barou is signing some autographs for the ubers when a little group of fans, a mix of energetic men and women who are a bit too old to be staring at your boyfriend the way they are, approach

-> you know barou isn’t allowed to reject or shove them when they invade his space, but when you see one of them give his bicep a squeeze, another reaching for his waist, you see red

-> “absolutely not,” you grab the back of the person’s collar and tug, causing them to flail and stumble away from your boyfriend. “you can take your signature and photo, but you do not have the right to put your hands on him.”

-> offended and embarrassed, the group leaves, and you feel barou slip a hand over the small of your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “that was sexy. who knew you’d get so protective over me?” “um, me. no one can run their hands over your body but me.” “mmm, deal.”

zantetsu tsurugi

-> you hate how people call your boyfriend dumb, and you hate that he believes them

-> he may not be the most intelligent guy around, but that doesn’t make him “stupid” or “useless”, and you will (and have) willingly throw hands with anyone who insults him

-> you’re waiting outside your boyfriend’s classroom when he emerges with two students following close behind, berating him over a problem he solved incorrectly in front of the class

-> “how have you not been held back, ya dummy?” “my baby sister could solve that problem, and she’s six!” “yeah! dumba—“ they freeze when they see you and visibly cower

-> cocking an amused brow, you’re glad to see that your reputation proceeds you. “you know who i am, don’t you?” they nod. “and you know who he is to me, hm?” they nod. you smile. “good. i’ll give you three seconds to apologize, or i’m taking your tongues and stapling them to your foreheads.”

-> they run off, leaving you alone with your pouty boyfriend. you instantly cup his face and scan his features with concern. “what’s wrong, sweet boy? did anyone else say something to you?”

-> zantetsu huffs, his cheeks puffed slightly between your hands. “won’t you get in trouble for yelling at them? it’s not like they were wrong…” “oh no, baby, not for that. bullies get what they deserve. and you’re not dumb! you’ll tell me if anyone else says anything mean, won’t you?” he nods. “i will :3” “good boy!”