#the eyes are supposed to be like... shadows i think i fucked that up but whatever!!! whatever
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My Very Own Speed Demon: K.S Kim Seungmin x fem!reader (College AU)
WC: 15.5K
CW: Seungmin is bad at feelings, talks of a guy making reader uncomfortable with touching, Mechanic Student Seungmin, Hyunjin is a bit of an ass
General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist
The sun sinks lower, painting Miroh College in golden hues as shadows stretch lazily across the almost-empty parking lot outside the engineering building. The faint hum of machinery fades into the evening air as Seungmin steps out, rolling his shoulders with a slight groan. His black shirt hangs open, the silver chain on his chest catching the light with every movement. He wipes his slightly greasy hands on a rag stuffed into his back pocket, his boots scuffing against the pavement as he heads toward his car.
But something halts him. A few rows down, parked like a relic from a cooler era, is a 1977 Datsun 280Z. The hoodâs popped open, and standing in front of it is you.
Youâre bent slightly over the engine, your phone in one hand as the other gestures vaguely toward something under the hood. A quiet sigh escapes you as you tilt your head, clearly deep in a YouTube tutorial. The sunlight plays off the chain belt draped around your waist, your layered necklaces, and the flutter of your blue maxi skirt. A loose strand of hair brushes against your face as you mumble softly to yourself, brows furrowed in concentration.
Seungmin slows, lips twitching into a barely restrained smirk. âFuck me,â he mutters under his breath. Youâre cute. And absolutely lost. Before he realizes it, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he strides toward you.
When heâs close enough to see the way youâre squinting at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, he clears his throat. âYouâre looking at the wrong engine model.â
You jolt like youâve been shocked, nearly dropping your phone as you whirl around. Your wide eyes meet his, and your voice comes out breathy, startled. âShit, you scared me!â
Seungmin raises his hands in mock surrender, the silver rings on his fingers glinting. His smirk deepens. âSorry, sorry. I just couldnât help noticing you looked like you were fucking struggling.â
Your cheeks flush, but you huff out a laugh despite yourself. âYeah, well. I donât know jack shit about cars, so Iâm improvising.â You gesture toward the duct tape crisscrossing random parts of the engine. âThis seemed like a good idea at the time.â
Seungmin leans closer, eyebrows raised as he inspects the tape job. âJesus Christ. Thatâs a lot of duct tape.â
âDuct tape works,â you insist, crossing your arms in a half-defensive, half-sheepish posture.
He straightens up, deadpan. âHowâs it working for you right now?â
Your lips twitch, trying not to laugh. âOkay, point taken.â
He snorts, rolling up his sleeves as he steps closer to the car. âMind if I take a look? Because this thing isnât running without some proper help. And no offence, but I donât think YouTubeâs got you covered.â
You hesitate for a moment, then sigh, stepping aside. âGo ahead. Iâd appreciate it. Just, please donât tell me itâs completely fucked.â
He leans over the engine, peering into the mess of parts. âProbably just your spark plug. Maybe the alternator if youâre really unlucky. But this? This is salvageable.â
You lean against the side of the car, watching him as he works. The way his fingers move over the parts, quick and sure, makes you feel a little less panicked. âThe grease on your face tells me youâve done this before, so I have faith in you"
Seungmin glances at you, smirking. âYou should probably raise the bar for what counts as a âprofessional mechanic.â But yeah, Iâve worked on cars since I was a kid and I'm a mechanics student. Youâre in decent hands.â
âWell, considering I almost called Hyunjin to come save me, youâre already a fucking upgrade,â you admit with a small laugh.
He freezes for a split second, looking up at you. âYou know Hyunjin?â
âYeah,â you say, tucking your phone into your bag. âWeâre supposed to be working on this art history project together. Heâs going to fucking kill me for being late.â
That earns you a quiet laugh as Seungmin wipes his hands on his rag. âYouâre meeting him at the Alpha Phi house?â
You blink at him in surprise. âWait, youâre in Alpha Phi?â
He shrugs, leaning casually against the car. âYeah. I'm Seungmin. I live there with him and the other idiots.â
A grin tugs at your lips. âI'm Y/N and Hyunjin's mentioned you. Mostly just complains about you being soulless.â
Seungmin snorts. âSounds about right.â He glances back at the engine, then at you. âHate to break it to you, but this car isnât going anywhere until you replace the spark plug. Youâre fucked for tonight.â
You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. âOf course I am. Thatâs just perfect.â
âHey,â he says, his tone softening slightly. âIâm heading home anyway. Why donât you let me give you a ride? Itâs either that or you haul your ass across campus alone.â
You hesitate, biting your lip as you weigh your options. âAre you sure? I donât want to bother you or anything.â
Seungmin tilts his head, his voice calm but teasing. âWhat kind of dick would I be if I let a pretty girl with good taste in cars walk all the way to campus alone?â
âThe same kind of dick as most of the guys on this campus?â
He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. âWell, theyâre all assholes. Iâm not.â
That gets a real laugh out of you, and you push off the car. âAlright, fine. Let me grab my bag.â
As you fall into step beside him, he shoves his hands into his pockets, glancing at you sideways. âSo, art history, huh? Whatâs the project?â
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. âItâs on Tudor art. Specifically how Anne Boleynâs image was erased after her execution. Hyunjinâs handling the movement and symbolism stuff.â
Seungmin groans, rolling his eyes. âThat tracks. Hyunjin loves overanalyzing the fuck out of everything. Half the time, I think heâs just making shit up to sound smart.â
You laugh softly, your steps matching his as the two of you head into the twilight.
The drive to the Alpha Phi house is unexpectedly comfortable, considering youâre riding with a guy youâve known for all of ten minutes. Seungminâs Honda Civic smells faintly of coffee and motor oil, and the faint hum of the engine is almost soothing as it cuts through the winding streets of Miroh College. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, curious about this sharp-tongued yet oddly chivalrous stranger. Heâs relaxed, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rests on the gear shift, the silver rings on his fingers glinting in the muted streetlights.
Seungmin breaks the silence first, his voice dry but not unkind. âSo, why a 280Z?â
You blink, his question catching you off guard. âWhat do you mean?â
He flicks his gaze toward you briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before his eyes return to the road. âItâs a cool car, sure. But letâs be honestâitâs a high-maintenance pain in the ass. And judging by your duct tape situation earlier, I wouldnât peg you as the âengine whispererâ type.â
You laugh softly, your fingers fiddling with the bracelets on your wrist. âOkay, fair enough. Iâm not exactly a mechanic. But it was my dadâs car. He restored it when he was in college, and itâs been in the family ever since. Itâs sentimental, you know?â
His smirk softens into something more genuine, and he nods. âYeah. I get that.â
The car falls into a comfortable quiet again, broken only by the soft buzz of the engine and the occasional sound of tires crunching over the asphalt. The two of you fill the gaps in the silence with casual conversation. You complain about campus parking, and he counters with a running list of the best parking spots heâs commandeered over the years.Â
He mentions a coffee shop near the library thatâs cheap but âdoesnât taste like watered-down pretentious-cunt water,â and you canât help but laugh at the absurdity. When you bring up how much you love late-night drives, his face lights up just slightly, and he shares how he used to drive aimlessly to clear his head when shit got overwhelming.
By the time he pulls up in front of the Alpha Phi house, its massive white columns glowing in the night like some over-the-top temple to chaos, youâre almost disappointed that the ride is over.
The house looms ahead, loud even from the outside. Someoneâs yelling from the second-floor window, and you catch a glimpse of a guy leaning halfway out, waving his arms. âFor fuckâs sake, Chan, shut up and come back in before you fall!â someone shouts from inside.
Seungmin just shakes his head, exhaling sharply as he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. âEvery day, I wonder why the fuck I still live here,â he mutters under his breath, grabbing his keys.
You step out of the car and sling your bag over your shoulder, smoothing your skirt as he leads the way up the wide, creaky steps. The faint light from the porch lamp glints off the chain around his neck as he digs into his pocket for the keys.
âHyunjinâs probably upstairs,â he says, unlocking the door with a practiced ease. âYouâll hear him before you see him.â
The door creaks open, and the chaos of the frat house spills out into the night. Inside, the space is somehow both clean and a complete disaster. The floors are clear of clutter, but the mismatched furniture in the living room is piled with discarded hoodies, random solo cups, and what looks suspiciously like a pair of boxers. A giant flat-screen TV blares some football highlight reel, and the faint smell of beer, sweat, and something burnt lingers in the air.
âThanks for the ride,â you say quietly, taking a tentative step inside. The house feels like itâs pulsing with energyâvoices shouting, footsteps pounding, someone laughing like a maniac in the kitchen.
Seungmin shrugs, brushing past you toward the noise. âNo problem. Hyunjinâs room is upstairs, last door on the left. Just tell him I didnât kill you or anything.â
You smile a little at that and nod, heading toward the stairs. The wooden steps creak under your Converse, and the sounds of the house get louder with each step. Behind one door, someoneâs blasting musicâsomething heavy and bass-driven. Behind another, you hear what sounds like a heated debate about the âexistential meaningâ of SpongeBob.
Finally, you reach the last door on the left. You knock softly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you wait.
âCome in!â Hyunjinâs voice booms out almost immediately, loud and theatrical as always.
You push the door open to find Hyunjin sprawled dramatically on his bed, his long limbs draped across the comforter like heâs auditioning for some avant-garde art piece. Heâs shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, and his golden hair is messy in a way that looks too good to be accidental.
âTook you fucking long enough,â he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. âI was about to start working without you.â His eyes land on you, and then narrow slightly. âWaitâhow the fuck did you even get here? Did you walk?â
âNo,â you say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. âYour friend Seungmin gave me a ride. My car decided to fuck me over in the middle of the engineering lot.â
At the mention of Seungmin, Hyunjin groans, flopping back onto his bed like the mere thought of his frat brother is exhausting. âOf course he did. Bet he was an absolute cunt about it too, wasnât he?â
You laugh softly, setting your bag down on the chair near his desk. âHe was actually pretty nice. Surprisingly helpful, considering the duct tape situation.â
Hyunjin snorts, propping himself up on his elbows. âThat assholeâs full of surprises. Donât get used to it, though. Heâs usually too busy being a sarcastic dick to help anyone.â
You smile faintly, settling into the chair and pulling out your notes. âHeâs not that bad.â
âTrust me,â Hyunjin says, grabbing a notebook from the floor and flipping it open. âYou havenât known him long enough yet. Give it time.â
The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, the chaos of the house fading into the background as you dive into your project.
Seungmin steps into the kitchen, popping the tab on a cold beer before leaning against the counter. The sound of the aluminium can hissing open is barely audible over the general buzz of conversation. He takes a long, quiet swig, hoping for just a moment of peace. But when he lowers the can, he immediately notices it. Six pairs of eyes fixed on him like vultures circling a fresh carcass.
Minho, Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, Jisung, and Chan sit scattered around the dining table, their expressions ranging from smirking amusement to outright glee.
âSo,â Chan starts, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms like heâs conducting some kind of frat house tribunal. âShe was cute.â
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, playing dumb. âWho?â
âYou fucking heard me,â Chan replies, his smirk widening. âThe girl. The one who came in your car.â
Minho snickers, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. âYeah, I saw her. Very your type. You into hippies now?â
Felix immediately elbows Minho in the ribs, his voice sharp with mock outrage. âShut the fuck up, Minho. She wasnât a hippie; she was hot.â
Seungmin groans, tipping his head back and muttering to the ceiling like it might spare him. âHere we fucking go.â
âYou donât just offer a girl a ride unless thereâs something there,â Jeongin cuts in, his grin pure mischief as he leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.
Seungmin shoots him a glare. âHer car was busted, and it was getting dark. What was I supposed to do, leave her there to get mugged or some shit?â
Jisung raises a hand like heâs in class, his grin borderline feral. âCounterpoint: Youâre totally the guy who lets people fend for themselves because youâre too busy being a soulless bastardâ
Changbin chuckles, lifting his can in a mock toast. âBe honest. You didnât give her a ride because youâre a nice guy. You did it because sheâs hot, right?â
Seungmin takes a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, his patience thinning with every word. When he sets it down, he exhales sharply. âFrom an objective standpoint, sure. Sheâs, objectively speaking, good-looking. I can admit that.â
ââObjectively,ââ Jisung parrots, squinting at him. âWhy the fuck do you keep saying it like that?â
Jeongin smirks, leaning forward with his chin resting on his palm. âBecause our boy here doesnât know how to handle the fact that he just lived a fucking meet-cute.â
Seungmin rolls his eyes so hard heâs surprised they donât pop out of his skull. âIÂ donât know her. I gave her a ride, thatâs it. The end. Stop making this a fucking thing.â
âYet,â Changbin drawls, grinning like heâs cracked the code. âYou donât know her yet. But you could.â
âThis isnât a fucking fanfiction,â Seungmin snaps, slamming his beer down on the counter hard enough to make the others laugh. âAlright? This is real life. Sheâs not some pixie dream girl whoâs gonna change my fucking world or whatever.â
âRelax,â Jisung says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. âWeâre just saying itâs a possibility. Youâve got the whole oil-smeared, black-on-black, moody mechanic thing going for you. Girls eat that shit up.â
âExactly,â Jeongin agrees, nodding sagely. âSheâs probably already imagining you fixing her car shirtless in slow motion. Hell, Iâm imagining it.â
âFucking gross,â Seungmin deadpans, shaking his head as the table dissolves into laughter.
Chan raises an eyebrow, his voice mockingly serious. âYouâre saying thereâs no chance, none at all, that she mightâve been a little into you?â
Seungmin stares at him, his tone flat. âZero. Iâm the asshole who told her duct tape isnât a real fix and then made her leave her car in the lot. Really romantic.â
âThatâs your version,â Felix says with a grin. âHer version is probably all, âOh my God, this sexy, grumpy mechanic saved me and then gave me a ride in his cool car.ââ
âItâs a Honda Civic,â Seungmin mutters.
âDoesnât matter,â Jisung replies. âYouâre a walking Wattpad trope right now.â
Seungmin sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face. âYouâre all idiots. I helped her out because it was the right thing to do. Thatâs it.â
But as their teasing fades into background noise, Seungmin canât help the way your face lingers in his mind. The way youâd smiled at him, soft and sweet, like you werenât sure if you were supposed to but couldnât help it anyway. The way youâd laughed when heâd called you out on your duct tape fix, not defensive, just genuine. And the way youâd looked so at ease in the passenger seat of his car, your hair catching the light from the streetlamps as you told him about your dadâs 280Z.
He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts aside. This is nothing. Just a pretty girl who needed a ride.
At least, thatâs what he keeps telling himself as he finishes his beer and listens to his friends laugh.
The autumn sun bathes the campus in golden light, shadows stretching across the cobblestones as Seungmin strides toward the café. The crunch of fallen leaves under his boots echoes in the crisp air, his every step purposeful but unhurried. His black compression top clings to his frame, the fabric outlining his shoulders and arms. The silver chain against his chest catches the light as he shifts the strap of his bag, his fingers absently toying with the chunky rings that gleam on his hand.
He spots the café ahead, its tables littered with students hunched over laptops, sipping steaming cups of caffeine. His plan is simple. Grab coffee, kill some time, and enjoy the rare peace between classes. But as he rounds the corner, the sight of you freezes him mid-step.
Youâre standing near the entrance, your sage green blouse slipping slightly off one shoulder, the delicate strap of your bra peeking out. Layers of necklaces glint against your skin, and your chain belt sways with every tiny shift of your weight. Youâre smiling, polite but clearly uneasy, as a Sigma Chi douchebag looms too close. His navy sweatshirt emblazoned with the fratâs oversized logo makes Seungminâs lip curl immediately.
âYouâre such a fucking tease, you know that?â the guy sneers, his voice dripping with mockery.
Your polite smile falters, but you hold your ground, your tone gentle despite the venom aimed at you. âIâm sorry. I just donât thinkââ
âBullshit,â the guy cuts you off sharply, his voice rising. âYou were sweet as fuck at the party, all flirty and cute. Now youâre ghosting me like Iâm some fucking loser? What the fuck is that about?â
Seungminâs jaw tightens. The guyâs posture, leaning in with fake bravado, makes his blood simmer. Youâre too nice, too soft-spoken, trying to defuse the situation instead of telling this idiot to fuck all the way off. Not on Seungminâs watch.
âHey, Y/N!â Seungmin calls out as he strides toward you.
Your head snaps to him, relief flashing across your face. âOh! Hi, Seungmin!â The brightness in your voice is unmistakable, and you take a step toward him, only for the Sigma Chi asshole to block your way.
The guy sneers, glancing between you and Seungmin. âKim Seungmin? Really? Youâre ditching me for this fucker?â
Seungminâs boots crunch loudly against the gravel as he closes the distance. His sharp eyes narrow, and his voice drops, calm but laced with menace. âGot something you want to say, Sigma Chi?â
The guy stiffens but holds his ground, though the confidence in his sneer wavers. âYeah. Iâm saying sheâs ditching a real man for some emo mechanic wannabe. That about cover it?â
Seungmin tilts his head slightly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. âFunny. You sound like a lot of talk for someone whoâs about five seconds away from having their teeth kicked in.â
The frat guy falters, glancing around to see if anyone is watching. Seungmin steps closer, his boots scraping loudly against the pavement, and lowers his voice. âWalk away, asshole. While you still have a choice.â
The guy scowls but backs off, muttering something about âfucking losersâ under his breath as he storms off. Seungmin watches him go, the tension in his posture easing only once the guy is out of sight.
âFucking dickhead,â he mutters before turning his attention back to you. âYou alright?â
You nod, your fingers fidgeting with the bracelets on your wrist as you take a steadying breath. âYeah. I didnât know how to get him to leave without making it worse.â
âYou donât have to,â Seungmin says simply. âGuys like that donât deserve your time. Next time, just tell him to fuck off.â
You laugh softly, though itâs tinged with a bit of nervousness. âEasier said than done.â
âThatâs what Iâm here for,â he says, his voice lighter now, though the edge of protectiveness hasnât left. He tilts his head toward the cafĂ© door. âCome on. Letâs get coffee before some other Sigma Chi asshole shows up.â
You fall into step beside him, the warmth of the café greeting you as you step inside. The scent of fresh coffee and pastries wraps around you like a blanket, and the low hum of conversation fills the space.
âGrab a seat,â Seungmin says, gesturing toward the tables. âIâll order.â
You choose a small table by the window, your nerves finally settling as you watch him at the counter. He exchanges a few quick words with the barista, his tone casual but confident, and a few minutes later, heâs making his way back to you with two drinks in hand.
He sets a cup in front of you before sliding into the seat across from you. âChai latte,â he says. âFigured thatâs more your speed than straight black coffee.â
You blink, pleasantly surprised. âHowâd you know I like chai?â
He shrugs, smirking faintly as he takes a sip of his own drink. âLucky guess. You just seem like the type.â
You chuckle, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. âWell, thanks. You didnât have to do that.â
âLeast I could do,â he says, leaning back in his chair, his silver rings tapping lightly against the ceramic mug. âThat guy was a fucking disaster.â
You trace your finger around the rim of your cup, your voice soft. âHe wasnât always like that. We just didnât click, and I thought heâd understand, but I guess not.â
Seungmin snorts, setting his drink down with a small thunk. âYeah, because entitled shitheads like him donât take rejection well. They think theyâre Godâs gift to the world and lose their shit the second someone disagrees.â
You smile faintly, though thereâs a sadness in your eyes. âI just try to see the good in people. Maybe thatâs stupid.â
He watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. âItâs not stupid. Itâs just risky. Too many people out there are assholes, and being nice doesnât mean theyâll stop being assholes.â
You nod, taking a sip of your latte and you glance up at him with a small smile. âWell, Iâm lucky you were there.â
âDamn right, you were,â he says with a smirk. âSeriously, though. If some other dick tries that shit, call me. Iâll handle it.â
You raise an eyebrow, teasing. âWhat, glare them into submission?â
âExactly,â he deadpans, taking another sip of his drink. âItâs a very refined technique.â
You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and the tension from earlier melts away completely. Seungmin surprises you with his dry humour and blunt honesty, and before you know it, the conversation flows easily, dipping into random topics and shared complaints about campus life.
When you finally leave the café, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the quad. Seungmin walks beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets as the two of you approach the main campus intersection.
âYou heading to class?â he asks.
âYeah,â you reply. âArt history in ten.â
He nods. âWorkshop for me. Another day of fixing shit that some moron broke.â
You laugh softly. âSounds riveting.â
âOh, itâs a fucking thrill,â he replies with a faint grin.
At the intersection, you pause, turning to face him. âThanks again, Seungmin. For everything.â
He nods, his expression softening. âAnytime. Just donât let assholes like that ruin your day, alright?â
You smile warmly, your voice quiet but sincere. âIâll try.â
With a small wave, you head off toward your class, and Seungmin watches you go, the sound of your footsteps fading into the autumn breeze.
He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Youâre sweet, soft-spoken, and far too good for this world. And somehow, youâre starting to get under his skin.
The Alpha Phi house looms ahead as you walk up the driveway, your oversized portfolio folder tucked under one arm. The autumn breeze toys with the hem of your blue maxi dress, making it swirl around your ankles as you climb the steps to the front door. Stray strands of hair escape from the clip holding them back, brushing against your face as you adjust the strap of your bag and shift the weight of the folder. Your mind is focused on Tudor art, Anne Boleyn, and the mountain of work you need to finish before tomorrowâdefinitely not on how chaotic the frat house is probably about to be.
You knock lightly on the door and step back, waiting. The sound of heavy footsteps grows louder before the lock clicks, and the door swings open to reveal Seungmin, barefoot, in grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a white t-shirt clinging to his damp frame. A towel hangs loosely around his neck, his dark hair tousled and still wet from a shower. The sight is so effortlessly casual yet striking that it catches you off guard, and for a second, you forget why youâre even here.
His sharp gaze flicks to the massive portfolio folder youâre holding. âJesus Christ,â he deadpans, leaning against the doorframe. âThat thingâs almost as big as you.â
You huff a soft laugh, shifting the folder to rest it against your hip. âWell, Tudor artâs got a lot of depth. Itâs heavy, literally and metaphorically.â
Seungminâs lips twitch into a faint smirk. âRight. Deep. Heavy. Bet itâs still more entertaining than the shit Hyunjin tries to call art.â
You grin, your voice light as you step past him into the house. âOh, itâs profound. Intricate. Emotionally moving. Youâd love it.â
The house, predictably, is chaotic but lively. Thereâs the faint sound of a video game coming from one of the rooms down the hall, the kitchen smells faintly of burned something, and a pair of sneakers is inexplicably hanging from the banister. You glance around, searching for any sign of Hyunjin.
Seungmin notices your scanning gaze and rubs the back of his neck. âAbout that,â he says, his voice edged with mild irritation. âHyunjin left, like, twenty minutes ago. Went to meet up with that Marissa girl.â
Your shoulders slump slightly as you let out a quiet sigh. âOf course he did. Perfect timing as always.â
Seungmin shrugs, dropping the towel onto the back of the couch and crossing his arms. âIf it helps, I can try to help you out. And by help, I mean Iâll sit here, look up shit on my laptop, and let you do all the actual work.â
Your grin softens into something more genuine. âThat would actually be amazing. Thanks, Seungmin.â
He jerks his head toward the stairs. âCome on. Itâs quieter in my room.â
You follow him up, navigating past a stray hockey stick and what looks like a torn-out couch cushion, until you reach his room. Itâs surprisingly neatâespecially for a frat houseâwith a neatly made bed in one corner, a desk covered in mechanical tools and textbooks, and walls lined with posters. Your gaze lands immediately on oneâa half-naked woman straddling a motorcycle, her pouty lips and sultry gaze seeming comically out of place compared to the otherwise functional vibe of the room.
âWow,â you say, unable to suppress a small laugh. âA half-naked girl on a motorcycle? Real classy.â
Seungmin glances at the poster, his smirk returning. âWhat can I say? Itâs vintage. Been with me since I was thirteen. Practically a family heirloom at this point.â
You hum thoughtfully, setting your portfolio down on the bed. âI had Bruno Mars on my wall. Right next to Edward Cullen.â
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of his bed. âBruno Mars and Edward Cullen? What a lineup.â
You shrug, your lips quirking. âI was multifaceted.â
âClearly,â he says, smirking as he leans back on his hands. âBut Edward Cullen, though?â
You nod, unzipping your portfolio. âOh, obviously. A staple for any teenage girl. But for the record, I was team Alice.â
That makes him pause, his brow furrowing slightly. âTeam Alice? Not team Jacob or Edward?â
âToo mainstream,â you say with a grin. âAlice deserved better. Sheâs underrated.â
Seungmin lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. âI canât even argue with that.â
You settle cross-legged on the bed, flipping through the pages of your portfolio and spreading your sketches and notes across the comforter. Seungmin leans forward slightly, picking up one of your reference images.
âSo,â he says, studying the sketch of a Tudor-era portrait. âWhatâs the big project?â
âItâs about how Anne Boleynâs likeness was erased after her execution,â you explain, pointing to a specific note scribbled in the margin. âThey painted over her portraits, rewrote history through art. Itâs fucked up, but itâs also fascinating. Some of her portraits survived, though. Itâs like this tiny act of defiance against a system that tried to erase her completely.â
Seungmin traces his thumb along the edge of the image, his dark eyes thoughtful. âThatâs some heavy shit. People really went that far to bury her?â
âYep,â you reply, smoothing out another page of notes. âArtâs more powerful than people realize. It can tell the truthâor rewrite it. Thatâs what makes this so interesting. Itâs like solving a mystery but through brushstrokes and canvas.â
He watches you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. The way your eyes light up, your voice gaining a quiet confidence as you explain something youâre clearly passionate aboutâitâs distracting in a way he didnât expect. And maybe doesnât entirely hate.
âAlright,â he says finally, snapping out of it. âTudor art, huh? I think Iâve got some old books on restoration techniques that might help.â
You blink, surprised. âYou do?â
He gets up, heading to his desk and rummaging through a small shelf. âYeah. Took an elective on historical restoration last year. Figured Iâd keep the books in case I needed them. Didnât think theyâd actually be useful, though.â
You watch as he pulls out a few worn textbooks, his movements efficient but with an almost surprising gentleness. He tosses them onto the bed beside you.
âHere,â he says. âSee if thereâs anything in there you can use.â
You pick up one of the books, flipping through the pages with growing excitement. âSeungmin, this is perfect. Thank you.â
He sits back down, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. âNo problem. Just donât let Hyunjin take all the credit for this shit.â
You laugh softly, shaking your head. âHeâs not that bad.â
Seungmin snorts, his smirk turning sharp. âSure heâs not.â
Seungmin leans back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, one foot tapping lazily against the edge of the bed. He watches you sketch in your portfolio, the soft scratch of your pencil filling the otherwise quiet room. The occasional rustle of paper or your quiet hum of concentration is the only sound beyond the faint chaos filtering in from the house downstairs.Â
For a moment, he just observes. The way your brow furrows slightly as you work, how the delicate chain around your neck glints every time you shift positions.
Finally, he breaks the silence, his tone dry. âSo, how many times has Hyunjin ditched you for shit like this?â
You pause mid-sketch, glancing up at him with a small shrug. âItâs not that bad,â you say. âHe lets me use his printer when I need it. Mine broke a while ago, and I havenât replaced it yet.â
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk sharp as a blade. âDo you own anything that actually works, or is your whole life just duct tape and crossed fingers?â
You laugh softly, shaking your head. âA few things work. My blenderâs still going strong.â
âGreat,â he deadpans, gesturing at the mess of notes and sketches spread across the bed. âAnd how much of this âcollaborativeâ project is actually Hyunjinâs work?â
You hesitate before flipping to a single page in your portfolio, its sparse, half-assed notes glaringly out of place among your meticulously detailed work. You push it toward him, your lips twitching in a sheepish smile.
Seungmin peers at it, his expression blank for a beat before he lets out a low whistle. âHoly shit,â he mutters, leaning back. âHeâs really pulling his weight, huh?â
You roll your eyes but canât help smiling. âHeâs busy, I guess.â
âYeah, busy being a useless dick,â Seungmin says bluntly. âHonestly, you should erase his name from the project and turn it in as your own. Fuck him.â
Your eyes widen, and you immediately shake your head, scandalized. âI canât do that! He could fail!â
âAnd?â Seungminâs gaze sharpens, his voice edged with disbelief. âThatâs his problem. Youâre the one busting your ass here. Whatâs he even doing, fucking Marissa while you save his degree?â
You groan softly, dropping your pencil and fidgeting with the hem of your dress. âItâs not that simple. I donât want to screw him over.â
Seungmin sighs, his tone exasperated but not unkind. âThen you need to tell him to step the fuck up. Youâre not his babysitter.â
You grimace, avoiding his eyes as you pick at a loose thread on your skirt. âConfrontation makes me feel like Iâm going to physically die.â
He snorts, his lips curving into a smirk as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. âYeah, you seem like the type whoâd eat around a deathly allergen just to avoid âcausing trouble.ââ
Your silence is damning. You donât even look up.
âOh my fucking god,â Seungmin says, his voice laced with incredulity. âYouâve actually done that, havenât you?â
You groan softly, covering your face with your hands. âI had my EpiPen! I was being polite!â
He stares at you for a long moment before letting out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. âYou risked death to be fucking polite? What the fuck is wrong with you?â
Peeking at him through your fingers, your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but thereâs a smile tugging at your lips. âTo be fair, the coconut added to the flavour. I wasnât even mad when my throat started closing up.â
Seungminâs jaw drops, and he shakes his head, looking genuinely appalled. âWhat the actual fuck? Youâre insane. Like, genuinely fucking insane. Who the hell does that?â
You shrug, biting your lip to hide a laugh. âIt was a really good dessert.â
He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. âYouâre gonna be the fucking death of me.â When he looks back at you, thereâs a glint of amusement in his eyes, though his voice is firm. âYouâre unbelievable. Sweet, sure. But fucking unbelievable.â
âI just donât like making people feel bad,â you say softly, fidgeting with your pencil again. âItâs not a big deal.â
âIt is a big deal,â he counters, his voice dropping into something almost serious. âYou shouldnât have to risk your life or your grade just to keep everyone else happy. Thatâs not how it works.â
You glance at him, surprised by the sudden edge in his tone. The usual sarcasm in his voice is gone, replaced by something quieter, heavier. Itâs unexpected, but it doesnât feel unwelcome.
âMaybe youâre right,â you murmur, your gaze flicking back to the portfolio spread across the bed. âBut itâs hard. I donât want to cause trouble.â
Seungmin leans back against the headboard, watching you for a long moment. His expression softens just slightly. âStanding up for yourself isnât causing trouble,â he says, his voice quieter now. âItâs just making sure people donât walk all over you. And trust me, people will walk all over you if you let them.â
You nod slowly, taking in his words as you absently trace the edge of your sketchbook. For a moment, the room is quiet again, save for the faint noise of the frat house below.
Seungminâs voice cuts through the silence, light and teasing once more. âSo, about the coconut. Did someone finally figure out you were dying, or did you just sit there and wait for your âpolite deathâ?â
You laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. âOne of my friends noticed and freaked out. She basically tackled me and stabbed the EpiPen into my leg while I was trying to tell her it was fine.â
Seungmin lets out another laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. âJesus fucking Christ. Youâre lucky youâve got people watching out for you, because clearly, you wonât do it yourself.â
You stick your tongue out at him, earning a sharp smirk in return. âMaybe Iâll start being more assertive. After this project is done.â
âGood,â he says, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. âBecause if you let Hyunjin keep pulling this shit, Iâm gonna start calling you Saint Y/N. Patron fucking saint of doormats.â
You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. âFine, fine. Iâll try to stand up for myself. No promises, though.â
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk laced with challenge. âIâll believe it when I fucking see it.â
And though heâs teasing, thereâs something in his voice that feels almost encouraging, like he might actually believe you can do it.
The house hums with faint background noise as Seungmin sits cross-legged on his bed, the fan lazily pushing air through the room. Your portfolio rests open in front of him, the pages fanned out carefully on the comforter. His sharp eyes flick over your sketches, pausing on the intricate lines and shading of Anne Boleynâs face.
One piece in particular, a half-finished sketch of Anne wearing her iconic "B" necklace, makes him stop. Her expression is soft but haunted, the shadows under her eyes suggesting both weariness and resilience. Itâs not just good; itâs fucking captivating.
âDamn,â he mutters under his breath, running a thumb along the edge of the page. âShe's talented as fuck.â
He leans back, letting his head rest against the wall as his thoughts drift. Heâs not sure what it is about you that keeps grabbing his attention. Maybe itâs the way your sweetness feels genuine, like it hasnât been diluted by the world yet. Or maybe itâs the quiet determination you carry, even when people like Hyunjin leave you holding the bag.
The thought of Hyunjin makes his jaw tighten. That asshole.
By the time Hyunjin walks through the door later that night, the house is alive again. Bowls of Minhoâs kimchi jjigae are being passed around the living room, the spicy, rich aroma filling the air. Seungmin sits on the floor, his back against the couch, spooning stew into his mouth like itâs his last meal.
The front door opens with a bang, and Hyunjin strides in, looking far too pleased with himself. His hair is slightly mussed, and he hums under his breath as he kicks off his sneakers. Before he can even greet anyone, a slipper flies through the air, smacking him square in the face.
âWhat the fuck?!â he yells, stumbling back and clutching his nose. His wide, offended eyes dart to Seungmin, whoâs glaring at him.
âYou,â Seungmin says, setting his bowl down on the coffee table with deliberate care, âare fucking lucky Y/N is too nice for her own damn good.â
The chatter in the room screeches to a halt. Chan, perched on an armchair, raises an eyebrow and gestures vaguely with his spoon. âAlright, what the hell is happening?â
Seungmin doesnât even glance away from Hyunjin as he explains. âOur dear friend here has left Y/N to carry their entire art history project on her back. Sheâs done everything, while heâs done jack fucking shit.â
Minho, whoâs leaning casually against the wall with a beer in hand, lets out a low whistle. âClassic Hyunjin move. Shouldâve seen it coming.â
Hyunjin groans, rubbing the spot on his cheek where the slipper hit him. âShe said she didnât mind! I asked her if she needed help, and she told me it was fine!â
âOf course she did,â Seungmin snaps, his glare intensifying. âBecause she doesnât like confrontation, you absolute dickhead. And you fucking know that.â
âThatâs rough, man,â Felix says from the couch, slurping his stew loudly. âKinda makes you a cunt, doesnât it?â
Hyunjin groans again, throwing his hands up. âOkay, okay, I get it. I fucked up. What do you want me to do?!â
Seungmin doesnât even hesitate. âPay for her car repairs.â
The room goes completely still. Then, one by one, everyone nods in agreement.
âYeah,â Chan says, pointing his spoon at Hyunjin like a judge passing down a sentence. âThatâs fair.â
âHer carâs a fucking 280Z,â Minho adds, taking a swig of his beer. âRepairs arenât cheap. Pay up, Hyunjin.â
Hyunjin looks around the room in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. âYou guys are ganging up on me! What the fuck!â
âNo, what the fuck is you,â Seungmin snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. âYou owe her. If it werenât for her, youâd fail that class. Pay for the fucking car.â
Hyunjin sighs heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. âFine. Fucking fine. Iâll pay for her car repairs. Happy now?â
âEcstatic,â Seungmin says flatly, picking up his bowl of stew again. âAnd if you flake on this, Iâll throw something heavier than a slipper next time.â
âLike what?â Hyunjin challenges weakly.
âLike the fucking coffee table,â Seungmin replies without missing a beat.
The room bursts into laughter, but Hyunjin mutters under his breath as he grabs a bowl of jjigae for himself. Changbin, seated on the floor with his legs stretched out, nudges Seungmin with his foot. âYou really stepped up for her, huh? Study buddy and all.â
Hyunjin squints at Seungmin, a sly smile tugging at his lips. âWait. You? Helping with art? Whatâs next, you learning to waterpaint?â
Seungmin glares at him, but the heat doesnât quite reach his voice. âI know how to read, dumbass. Itâs not that hard to help someone find sources.â
Jeongin smirks from his spot by the coffee table, resting his chin in his hand. âNah, itâs not just that. Seungminâs got a soft spot for her. We all see it.â
Felix leans forward, his grin mischievous. âYeah, the mean mechanic act breaks real quick when she walks in with her flowy skirts and shy little smile. Youâve got a thing for her, donât you?â
Seungmin flips him off with zero hesitation, his eyes narrowing. âEat shit, Felix.â
âIâm just saying,â Felix continues, unbothered. âYouâre kinda protective for someone whoâs âjust helping.ââ
âI donât have a fucking thing for anyone,â Seungmin retorts, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth. âShe needed help, so I helped. End of fucking story.â
âRight,â Jisung says, drawing out the word with an obnoxiously knowing smirk. âTotally believable.â
Seungmin groans, standing up and grabbing his empty bowl. âYouâre all fucking insufferable.â
As he stalks out of the room, the sound of their laughter echoes behind him. But as much as he tries to ignore their teasing, the image of you sketching quietly on his bed lingers in his mind.
Maybe theyâre not entirely wrong. But heâs not about to admit that. Not yet.
The late afternoon sunlight slants through the wide windows of the Alpha Phi living room, turning the room golden and catching motes of dust as they swirl lazily in the air. The mismatched furniture gives the space a slightly chaotic charm. Minho is sprawled on the couch like a cat, his cherry-red hair catching the sunlight as he lazily flips through a magazine about exotic pets. A faint smirk plays on his lips, suggesting heâs less interested in the articles and more in the idea of tormenting his housemates with his next grand idea.
Chan is perched on the armrest of the couch, his easy grin in place as he scrolls on his phone. His head bobs faintly to the playlist humming from a speaker tucked in the corner.
The peace doesnât last.
Seungmin walks in, his boots heavy against the floor, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black cargos. His shoulders are tense, his jaw locked tight, and his sharp eyes dart around the room like heâs searching for something or someone to aim his frustration at.
Minho looks up first, instantly zeroing in on Seungminâs sour expression. He doesnât bother hiding his amusement. âWell, well, if it isnât Mr. Sunshine himself,â he drawls, tossing the magazine onto the cluttered coffee table. âWhatâs got your panties in a twist today?â
âFuck off,â Seungmin snaps, sinking into the armchair across from them with all the grace of a dropped anvil. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and drags a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath.
Chan raises an eyebrow, setting his phone aside. âUh-oh. You look like youâve been thinking too hard. Whatâs going on?â
Minho leans forward, his smirk sharpening like a predator scenting blood. âYeah, Seungmin. Lay it on us. Who pissed you off now? Or is this your natural state?â
Seungmin glares, his gaze flicking between them like heâs debating whether or not to just leave. But the weight in his chest refuses to budge, and he knows heâs going to explode if he doesnât say something.
Finally, he exhales sharply, his voice low and tight. âItâs about Y/N.â
Minho and Chan exchange a quick glance, eyebrows shooting up in unison. Minhoâs grin stretches wider, and Chanâs expression softens with interest.
âOh, this is gonna be good,â Minho says, leaning back and crossing his arms. âGo on, lover boy. Weâre listening.â
Seungmin scowls, but the heat in his glare feels more defensive than angry. âI donât know,â he mutters, his gaze fixed on the floor. âIâve just been thinking about her. A lot. And itâs fucking annoying.â
âThinking about her how?â Minho presses, his tone a mix of curiosity and outright glee.
âFucking... I donât know! Like that!â Seungmin snaps, gesturing vaguely with one hand. âThatâs why Iâm asking you two assholes. What the fuck is going on with me?â
Minhoâs grin turns predatory. âOh, you absolute dumbass. You like her.â
Seungmin freezes, his sharp gaze snapping to Minho. âDo I?â
âYes,â Chan says immediately, clapping his hands together like heâs just cracked the case of the century. âItâs so fucking obvious. How do you not know this?â
Minho cackles, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. âAre you emotionally stunted, or just slow on the uptake?â
âProbably both,â Seungmin mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. âGod, this is fucking stupid.â
Chanâs grin turns fond, his voice teasing but not unkind. âOh, Seungminnie. Youâre so cute when youâre like this.â
Seungmin flips him off without hesitation. âDonât fucking start.â
Minho tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. âYouâre really out here having a whole-ass existential crisis because you caught feelings. Itâs almost... endearing.â
âFuck you, Minho,â Seungmin bites out, though his tone lacks any real venom. âI didnât ask to be analyzed. I just want to know what the fuck Iâm supposed to do about it.â
Minho sits up, rubbing his chin like heâs deep in thought. âWell, for starters, you could try not being such a cold, emotionally constipated robot. That might help.â
Seungmin glares, leaning back in the chair. âSo helpful. Thanks.â
Chan chuckles, reaching over to pat Seungminâs shoulder. âHeâs right, though. If you like her, youâve gotta stop acting like a brooding asshole and actually talk to her. Youâre good with words when you want to be.â
âYeah, but not like that,â Seungmin mutters, crossing his arms. âWhat the fuck do I even say? âHey, Iâve been thinking about you a lot and itâs annoying as fuck, so maybe we should go out?ââ
Minho bursts out laughing, nearly falling off the couch. âThatâs... wow. No. Donât say that.â
Chan shakes his head, biting back his own laughter. âJust be honest, man. You donât have to make it weird. Sheâs the type whoâd appreciate the truth.â
Seungmin sighs, tipping his head back against the chair. âWhat if she doesnât feel the same? What if I just fuck it all up?â
Minho snorts. âThen at least youâll know instead of sitting here stewing like a fucking idiot. Either way, itâs a win for me. Free entertainment.â
âGo to hell, Minho,â Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair.
Chan chuckles, his voice softer now. âYouâll figure it out, Seungmin. Just donât overthink it. Youâre not as bad at this stuff as you think.â
Minho hops off the couch with a shit-eating grin. âAnd if you fuck it up? Well, weâll all be here to laugh about it.â
Seungmin sighs heavily, standing and heading for the kitchen. âYouâre all fucking insufferable.â
In the kitchen, he grabs a beer from the fridge and twists the cap off, taking a long swig before leaning against the counter. Minho and Chan follow him, their shit-eating grins still firmly in place.
âSo,â Minho begins, hopping onto the counter and dangling his legs like a kid on a swing. âWhatâs the grand plan, Romeo?â
âThere is no fucking plan,â Seungmin mutters. âIâll keep helping her with her project and hope I donât make things weird.â
Chan raises an eyebrow. âThatâs not a plan. Thatâs avoidance.â
âThanks for the analysis, Freud,â Seungmin deadpans, taking another swig of his beer.
Minho nudges him with his foot. âYou like her. Just admit it to yourself and do something about it. Donât be a coward.â
Seungmin sighs again, his shoulders slumping slightly. âIâm not a coward. I just donât want to fuck up something good, alright?â
Chan claps him on the back. âThen donât. Keep it simple. Honest. Sheâll appreciate that more than anything.â
Minho grins smugly. âAnd if she doesnât? Well, at least weâll have fun watching you crash and burn.â
Seungmin glares at him, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrays him. âGo fuck yourself, Minho.â
Minho smirks. âAlready planned for later.â
Seungmin groans, pushing off the counter and heading for the stairs. âYouâre fucking unbearable.â
Minhoâs laughter and Chanâs chuckling follow him as he heads back to his room, but even with their teasing, Seungmin feels a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, he can figure this out.
The low whir of Seungminâs fan hums through the room as you sit cross-legged on his bed, your laptop balanced precariously on your thighs. Stacks of old books are scattered around you, a testament to the marathon research session youâve been enduring. The late afternoon sun filters through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across the room. Youâre wearing a light summer dress, its fabric brushing against your skin as you adjust your position, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh. Strands of your hair have slipped out of the clip holding it back, framing your face as you squint at your screen.
At his desk, Seungmin leans back in his chair, his black sweatpants and tight tank top clinging to his frame in the warm room. One hand flips through a heavy book on Tudor history, the other absently twirling a pen. His brow furrows in concentration, but every so often, his gaze flicks to you. Curious, amused, unreadable.
Finally, he breaks the silence. âSo,â he starts, his voice slicing through the hum of the fan, âhave you talked to Hyunjin yet?â
Your fingers pause mid-typing, and you glance up, blinking. âUh, no. I donât think I need to. Itâs not really a big deal.â
Seungminâs pen drops to the desk with a loud clink, and he swivels to face you, his expression flat but his tone dripping with sarcasm. âOh, sure. Not a big deal. He slacks off, you do all the work, and he gets to keep floating through life like a fucking golden retriever on vacation. Totally fine.â
You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping despite yourself. âHe didnât mean to slack off. Heâs just... busy.â
âWith what? Pouting for his Instagram stories?â Seungmin leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. His sharp eyes glint with mockery. âCome on, Y/N. Donât let him off the hook so easily. I could shave one of his eyebrows off.â
You laugh again, waving him off. âSeungmin, no. Itâs fine, really. Iâll just finish the project, and weâll move on.â
âYeah, no.â He stands abruptly, his chair squeaking against the floor. âThatâs not happening. Get up.â
You blink at him, confused. âWhy?â
âBecause Iâm going to teach you the art of confrontation,â he says, walking over to you with an air of finality. He holds out a hand, clearly expecting you to take it. âAnd before you say anything, no, you donât get a choice.â
You lean back, groaning. âOh no. Iâm bad at that. Absolutely not.â
âExactly why weâre doing this.â He grabs your hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and pulls you to your feet.Â
The movement sends your laptop sliding precariously to the side of the bed, and you hastily catch it before steadying yourself. Your dress brushes against his sweatpants, and for a moment, his hands linger on yours, warm and steady.
âI already hate this,â you mutter, pouting.
âThatâs the spirit,â he quips, smirking. He takes a step back, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down. âAlright. Repeat after me. Hyunjin, youâre a selfish asshole, and your hair isnât even that great.â
Your eyes widen, and you shake your head frantically. âI canât say that! What if he hears me?â
âGood,â Seungmin says, his smirk widening. âMaybe heâll learn something.â
You laugh nervously, covering your face with your hands. âThis feels so wrong.â
Seungmin sighs dramatically, stepping closer and gently tugging your hands down. âI was prepared for this,â he says, his voice carrying a note of triumph. He walks to his closet, rummaging around until he pulls out a dartboard with a photo of Hyunjinâs grinning face pinned dead centre.
âOh my god,â you gasp, your jaw dropping as you stare at it.
âItâs modular,â Seungmin says nonchalantly, holding it up. âIâve got all the guysâ faces in here. They piss me off in cycles.â
âThis is insane,â you say, barely stifling your laughter as he hangs the dartboard on his door.
âItâs cathartic,â he corrects, tossing a dart into your hand. âGo on. Aim for the pretty boyâs stupid smile.â
You hesitate, holding the dart awkwardly. âIâve never thrown a dart in my life.â
âNot fucking rocket science,â he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. âJust throw it. Let your rage guide you.â
Rolling your eyes but laughing, you square your shoulders and toss the dart. It bounces off the board and clatters to the floor with an anticlimactic thunk. Your cheeks heat up as you bury your face in your hands.
âJesus Christ,â Seungmin mutters, pushing off the wall and walking over to you. âAlright, rookie. Relax. Youâre trying too hard.â
He steps behind you, his hands gently resting on your arms and you feel your breath catch slightly as he leans in, his voice low and soft.
âBreathe,â he murmurs, his thumbs brushing your forearms lightly. âLoosen up. Youâre not throwing a grenade.â
You nod, trying to ignore how close he is, or the way his cologne lingers, sharp and clean. âOkay. Relax. Got it.â
âGood,â he says, his voice barely above a whisper. âNow, aim. And donât overthink it this time. Just let it go.â
With his guidance, you throw the dart again. It sticks in the board, just outside Hyunjinâs cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you turn to look at Seungmin with a triumphant grin.
âSee?â he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. âNot so bad.â
You laugh, the tension from earlier dissolving. âOkay, that was kind of fun.â
âKind of?â He raises an eyebrow, feigning offence. âItâs the best fucking stress relief there is. Try again.â
Grinning, you grab another dart and throw it. It lands even closer to the centre, and you let out a delighted cheer.
âNice,â Seungmin says, nodding approvingly. âYouâre a natural. Hyunjin should be scared.â
As you line up another shot, Seungmin leans back against the wall, arms crossed. Thereâs a softness in his expression now, a flicker of something he doesnât let show often. Watching you laugh and let loose feels oddly satisfying.
âAlright,â you say, aiming carefully. âWhat do I get if I hit his stupid grin?â
âA medal for bravery,â Seungmin deadpans, but his smirk betrays his amusement.
You throw the dart, and it lands just shy of the photoâs centre. Laughing, you turn to him with a mock pout. âI want a rematch.â
âYouâre not ready for that kind of pressure,â he says, his tone teasing but warm.
And for the first time all day, the weight of your project and the tension with Hyunjin feel far away. In this room, with Seungmin, all that exists is the laughter, the easy banter, and the flicker of something unspoken in the air between you.
The sun dips low, casting a warm, golden hue over the Alpha Phi house as you neatly pack up your things in Seungminâs room. The quiet scratch of your pen against paper, the occasional tap of your laptopâs keyboard, and the hum of his fan have created a soothing rhythm all afternoon. Now, as you finish jotting down the last of your citations, you stack your books and papers into an organized pile.
Seungmin leans back in his chair, his legs stretched out and his dark eyes lazily tracking your movements. A pen twirls effortlessly between his fingers, his expression calm but sharpâlike heâs quietly taking in more than he lets on.
âLeaving already?â he asks, his tone casual but carrying a note of something you canât quite place.
You glance up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. âYeah, Iâve got to get ready. I have a date tonight.â
The words hit like a brick, and Seungmin freezes for half a second before resuming the pen twirl, though his fingers grip it a little too tightly. His face remains neutral, but his jaw ticks slightly.
âA date?â he says, forcing a smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes.
You nod, slipping your laptop into your bag. âYeah, Minho introduced me to a guy in his class. Animal behaviour or something? He seems nice.â
His forced smile cracks for a moment, but he patches it quickly. âNice,â he echoes, leaning forward in his chair. âThatâs⊠great.â
The silence lingers, awkward and heavy. You tilt your head at him, your soft gaze curious. âAre you okay?â
âMe? Fine,â he says quickly, too quickly, sitting up straighter. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
You frown slightly, unconvinced, but you let it go, offering him a gentle smile. âThanks for all your help today, Seungmin. I really appreciate it.â
He nods stiffly, watching you head for the door. His chest feels tight, like someoneâs wrapped a steel band around it. When the door clicks shut behind you, he lets out a low, frustrated sigh and tosses the pen onto his desk.
A beat passes before heâs on his feet, striding purposefully down the hall toward Minhoâs room.
Minhoâs door is ajar, soft music filtering out as Seungmin pushes it open without knocking. Minho is sprawled on his bed, headphones around his neck, scrolling through his phone with his usual smug expression. Minho barely has time to look up before Seungmin grabs a pillow from the bed and swings it at him with alarming force.
âWhat the fuck?!â Minho yells, his phone flying from his hand as he scrambles to defend himself.
âYou!â Seungmin growls, punctuating each word with a swing of the pillow. âFucking introduced her. To. A. Guy?!â
Minho bursts into laughter, raising his arms to shield himself. âItâs incentive, Seungminnie!â he cackles, gasping between laughs. âYou needed a push!â
âI donât need a fucking push!â Seungmin snaps, hitting him even harder.
Minho tries to sit up, still laughing despite the onslaught. âYouâre so fucking obvious- Ow! Stop, you lunatic!â
âGood!â Seungmin barks, his voice sharp as he lands another hit. âMaybe next time youâll keep your matchmaking bullshit to yourself!â
The commotion attracts Chan, who appears in the doorway with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. âWhatâs going on here?â
âIâm smothering Minho,â Seungmin says flatly, not even looking up as he presses the pillow down over Minhoâs face.
Chan nods approvingly, stepping into the room. âGood. Carry on. Youâre doing the lordâs work.â
Seungmin lets out a humourless laugh, pressing the pillow down harder as Minhoâs muffled protests grow louder. âI know, right? Someoneâs gotta do it.â
âWhile youâre at it,â Chan says casually, leaning against the doorframe, âmake sure he canât reproduce. The last thing we need is a mini Minho terrorizing the campus.â
Minhoâs muffled yell rises to a panicked pitch as Seungmin shifts his weight, digging a knee into Minhoâs crotch. The resulting strangled groan is enough to make Chan burst into laughter. âJesus Christ, Seungmin,â Chan says, shaking his head. âYouâre fucking ruthless.â
âYeah, well,â Seungmin mutters, his tone clipped. âHe fucking deserves it.â
Minho finally manages to yank the pillow away, his face red and his hair a mess as he glares up at Seungmin. âYouâre a psycho!â
âAnd youâre a fucking meddler,â Seungmin snaps, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. âWhat the hell were you thinking, setting her up with some random guy?â
Minho sits up, rubbing his face. âI was helping! Youâre clearly into her but too chickenshit to do anything about it!â
âI didnât fucking ask for your help!â Seungmin snaps, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
Chan raises a hand, stepping between them with a smirk. âAlright, letâs all take a deep breath. Minhoâs an idiot, but heâs not wrong. Youâre jealous, Seungmin. Just admit it.â
Seungmin glares at him, his jaw clenching. âSo what if I am? What am I supposed to do about it, huh? March up to her and say, âHey, I think about you way too much, and itâs driving me fucking insane?ââ
âHonestly? Yeah,â Chan says, shrugging. âSheâs sweet. She wonât bite your head off.â
Minho smirks, leaning back against the headboard. âAnd if she says no, at least youâll have closure. Better than sitting here brooding like some tragic fucking Byronic hero.â
âFuck off,â Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
Chan claps him on the shoulder. âYouâve got this, man. Just be honest. Itâs not as scary as youâre making it out to be.â
Seungmin huffs, glancing between them. He hates that theyâre right. The thought of you with someone else already twists his stomach into knots, and the idea of doing nothing feels even worse.
Without another word, he storms out of the room, leaving Chan and Minho grinning behind him.
âThink heâll do it?â Chan asks, leaning against the wall.
Minho snorts, rubbing his sore ribs. âOh, heâll do it. Or heâll self-destruct. Either way, we win.â
Their laughter follows Seungmin down the hall, but for once, he doesnât care. Heâs got bigger things to worry about and her name is Y/N.
The Alpha Phi living room is a vortex of noise and chaos. The mismatched couches are packed with bodies. Jeongin and Felix are loudly arguing over the outcome of a video game, their hands flailing in exaggerated gestures, while Jisung lies sprawled on the floor, chip crumbs scattered around him like evidence of a crime. The massive TV blares the commentary of a football game, its volume competing with the general din. Minho is perched half-asleep on the armrest of the couch, his cherry-red hair a mess from running his fingers through it repeatedly, while Chan sits cross-legged on the floor, calmly trying to fix the connection on a janky Bluetooth speaker.
Seungmin reclines in the worn recliner, scrolling idly on his phone, tuning out the noise with practised ease. His legs are stretched out, and his dark eyes are fixed on the screen in front of him. Itâs an average evening in the house, loud, chaotic, and comfortably predictable.
Until his phone rings.
The name flashing on the screen makes him sit up so abruptly that the chair creaks. He immediately presses the green button, his heart rate kicking up as he brings the phone to his ear.
âHello?â His voice is calm, but thereâs a sharp edge of alertness in it.
A soft sniffle echoes on the other end of the line, and every muscle in Seungminâs body goes taut. âSeungmin,â your voice breaks, trembling and fragile, and itâs enough to make his blood run cold. âIâI didnât know who else to call. He⊠he was awful. I just- Iâm so sorry-â
âHey,â Seungmin cuts in, his voice firm but gentle. âStop apologizing. Just breathe, okay? Tell me where you are.â
Your breathing is shaky, but you manage to get the words out. âThat sushi place near campus. Iâm in the bathroom. I didnât know what else to do.â
âYou did the right thing,â he says, already slipping his boots on with one hand and gesturing wildly at Minho with the other. âStay there. Donât leave the bathroom until Minho and I get there. Weâre coming to get you.â
âOkay,â you whisper, barely audible, and the line goes quiet.
Seungmin stands, his movements quick and purposeful. âMinho. Shoes. Now. Youâre driving.â
Minhoâs lazy posture vanishes as he sits up, alert. âWhat? Why? Whatâs going on?â
âY/N,â Seungmin says sharply, grabbing his jacket. âSheâs in trouble.â
The room quiets instantly. Jeongin and Felix stop arguing mid-sentence, their heads snapping toward Seungmin. Jisung sits up from the floor, the chips forgotten. Even Chan abandons the Bluetooth speaker, standing with his arms crossed and his face serious.
âFuck,â Minho mutters, pulling on his shoes. âWhat kind of trouble?â
âSheâs at the sushi place,â Seungmin says, his tone tight. âAnd itâs because of the guy you introduced her to.â
Minhoâs face falls, guilt flashing across his features. âShit.â
âYeah. Shit,â Seungmin snaps, already halfway to the door. âNow move.â
The drive to the restaurant is tense. Seungmin sits in the passenger seat, his foot tapping a relentless rhythm against the floor. He checks his phone every thirty seconds, the tight line of his jaw only softening when he glances at the screen and sees no new messages. Minho keeps his focus on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tighter than usual.
When they pull into the parking lot, Seungmin is out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. His sharp gaze sweeps across the glass front of the restaurant. Through the window, he spots the guy sitting at a table, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothingâs wrong. Seungminâs blood boils.
Minho sees him too, muttering a low âFuckâ under his breath. âIâll handle him,â he says, his voice hard. He pushes the car door open and strides toward the entrance, his usually laid-back demeanour replaced with something cold and dangerous.
Seungmin doesnât wait to see what Minho does next. His focus is on you. He heads straight for the bathrooms at the back of the restaurant, his boots thudding heavily against the tile floor. Stopping just outside the door, he takes a deep breath before knocking softly.
âItâs me,â he says, his voice gentler now. âYou can come out.â
Thereâs a long pause, followed by the faint sound of shuffling. The door creaks open slowly, and you step out. Your eyes are red and puffy, tear tracks glistening on your cheeks. Your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself, your whole frame trembling slightly.
The second you see him, something in you breaks. You step forward and bury your face in his chest, your hands clutching his jacket like itâs the only thing keeping you grounded.
Seungmin freezes for a split second, his eyes wide with surprise. Then his arms wrap around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other presses against your back, holding you close. âItâs okay,â he murmurs, his voice low and steady. âYouâre okay now. Iâve got you.â
You donât say anything, but your fingers grip his jacket tighter, and your trembling becomes more pronounced. He holds you like that for what feels like forever, his heart pounding as he tries to stay calm for you.
When you finally pull back slightly, he keeps his hands on your shoulders, his dark eyes searching your face. âYouâre safe,â he says, his voice firm but soft. âI promise. No oneâs going to hurt you.â
Your lips tremble as you nod, but you still canât bring yourself to speak. Seungmin brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch careful, grounding. âDo you want to tell me what happened? Or do you just want to leave?â
âLeave,â you whisper, your voice barely audible.
âAlright,â he says without hesitation. âLetâs go.â
He keeps a protective arm around you as he guides you out of the restaurant. As you pass through the dining area, his sharp gaze finds Minho, who is standing over the guyâs table, his expression icy and his arms crossed. The guy is slouched in his chair, looking decidedly less cocky than before, and Seungmin feels a flicker of satisfaction at the sight.
Outside, Minhoâs car is waiting. Seungmin opens the back door for you, helping you in before sliding in beside you. Minho climbs into the driverâs seat a moment later, his face pale but his expression grim.
âWhere to?â Minho asks, his voice quieter than usual.
âBack to the house,â Seungmin says firmly. âSheâs staying with us tonight.â
Minho nods, starting the car without another word.
In the backseat, you lean against Seungminâs shoulder, your body still trembling slightly. He doesnât say anything, just rubs slow, soothing circles on your back with one hand, his touch steady and reassuring. The warmth of his presence and the quiet strength in his gestures begin to ease the tension in your chest, bit by bit.
The drive back to the Alpha Phi house is suffocatingly quiet. Minhoâs hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched like heâs holding back a thousand words. In the backseat, Seungmin sits close beside you, one hand resting on your knee, steady and firm. Itâs not invasive, not demanding. Itâs just there, a silent promise of safety.
Your head leans against his shoulder, your breath shaky but starting to even out. He hasnât said much since getting you out of the restaurant, but his presence is enough. When the car pulls into the driveway, the headlights casting long shadows against the houseâs worn exterior, Seungmin nudges you gently.
âWeâre here,â he murmurs, his voice low, almost soothing.
You sit up, your movements sluggish, and Seungmin is already out of the car, holding the door open for you. He offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation, your fingers trembling slightly in his firm grasp.
Minho hesitates by the car, glancing between you and Seungmin with guilt written all over his face. âDo you needââ
âNo,â Seungmin cuts him off sharply, his glare like a blade. âJust... go inside.â
Minho opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it, nodding stiffly and heading up the steps without another word.
Seungmin keeps his arm around you as he guides you toward the house. The muffled sound of laughter and chatter spills out the windows, but the moment the two of you step through the front door, it dies like a switch has been flipped.
Jeongin, mid-laugh, stops abruptly, his expression shifting to confusion and concern. Felix, perched on the back of the couch, opens his mouth to say something, but Seungminâs sharp glare silences him instantly.
âNot now,â Seungmin says, his tone flat but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.
The room goes completely silent, everyone exchanging uneasy glances as Seungmin leads you upstairs. His grip on your shoulder remains steady, a grounding force as you ascend the creaky steps. You barely register the concerned murmurs behind you, too focused on the warmth of his touch and the growing knot in your chest.
When you reach his room, Seungmin pushes the door open and gently guides you inside. The familiar scent of his cologne wraps around you, grounding you further. He closes the door with a soft click, shutting out the world, and turns to face you.
You stand in the middle of the room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The dam youâve been holding back all night finally breaks, and a small sob escapes before you can stop it.
âHey,â Seungmin says softly, stepping closer. He sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. âCome here.â
You hesitate, fiddling with the hem of your dress. âIââ
âY/N,â he interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. âCome here.â
You move slowly, sitting beside him. The second youâre close enough, he pulls you into his side, one arm draped securely around your shoulders. His warmth seeps into you, steadying your ragged breathing.
âYou wanna tell me what happened?â he asks after a moment, his voice quieter now. âOr we can just sit here. Your call.â
You swallow hard, nodding slightly. âI- I tried to call the date off,â you start, your voice trembling. âI just- he wasnât what I wanted. And when I told him that, he got-â Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, trying to steady yourself. âHe started touching me. Grabbing me. I- I didnât like it. I told him to stop, but he just laughed, and I panicked. I didnât know what else to do.â
Seungminâs entire body goes rigid beside you. His arm tightens protectively, and his jaw clenches so hard you can hear his teeth grind. âThat piece of shit,â he mutters under his breath, his tone low and venomous.
You glance up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. âMaybe I overreacted,â you say quickly, your voice defensive as though youâre bracing for judgment. âMaybe I just-â
âNo,â Seungmin cuts in, his voice sharp. He shifts to face you fully, his hands gripping your shoulders gently but firmly. âDonât fucking do that, Y/N. Donât blame yourself. If you were uncomfortable, then you were uncomfortable. Thatâs it. No one gets to fucking touch you without your consent.â
His words make your chest tighten, but in a different way. A warmth spreads through you, breaking through the lingering fear. âThank you,â you whisper.
Seungminâs gaze softens, his hands sliding down to your elbows. He exhales slowly like heâs forcing himself to calm down. âYou deserve better than that,â he says quietly. âBetter than some asshole who doesnât know how to take no for an answer.â
âHe wasnât you, Seungmin,â you say before you can stop yourself.
The room goes still, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Seungminâs eyes widen slightly, the sharpness in his expression giving way to something warmer, something softer.
âGood,â he says after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pulls you into a tight hug, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. âBecause Iâd never fucking treat you like that.â
You bury your face in his chest, letting his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his arms melt away the last traces of fear. For the first time all night, you feel like you can breathe again.
After a while, Seungmin pulls back slightly, one hand lingering on your shoulder. âYou know,â he says, his tone lighter now, âMinho owes you a massive apology. I say we make him grovel.â
You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. âItâs not his fault.â
Seungmin raises an eyebrow. âSure, but letting him squirm a little wouldnât hurt.â
You laugh again, stronger this time. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âMaybe,â he says with a smirk. Then his expression softens, and he leans forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. âHey. Iâve been meaning to ask you something.â
âWhat?â you ask, tilting your head.
He hesitates for half a second, then his lips curl into a faint smile. âGo out with me. Let me take you on a real date.â
Your breath catches, your heart thudding in your chest. âYou mean that?â
âYeah,â he says, his voice low but steady. âIâve been wanting to ask you out for a while. I just didnât know how.â
A small smile spreads across your face. âIâd like that.â
Seungminâs shoulders relax, the tension heâs been carrying all night finally easing. âGood,â he says, his smile widening. âBecause Iâve been waiting for an excuse to make a move.â
You laugh softly, the sound bright and genuine. âYouâre not very subtle, you know.â
He groans, rolling his eyes. âDonât rub it in.â
âCool and mysterious,â you tease, leaning a little closer. âNot exactly your vibe.â
Seungmin snorts, but the warmth in his gaze doesnât waver. âYouâre lucky I like you.â
âYeah,â you say, your smile softening. âI know.â
The quiet knock on the door is hesitant, a rare sound from someone like Minho. Before either of you can respond, it creaks open, revealing him standing there in sweats and a hoodie thatâs slightly too big for him. His cherry-red hair is a mess, like heâs spent the last hour running his hands through it in frustration. His usual cocky smirk is absent, replaced by something far more uncertainâalmost guilty.
Seungminâs eyes narrow, though he doesnât move from where heâs perched on the bed beside you, his arm loosely draped behind your back. âWhat do you want?â he asks, his tone clipped.
Minho hesitates in the doorway, his eyes flicking between you and Seungmin. His hands stay buried in his pockets, his shoulders slouched as if heâs bracing for impact. âIâm⊠fuck, Iâm sorry,â he mutters, his voice uncharacteristically soft. âI didnât know. I swear, I didnât fucking know he was going to be like that. I just thoughtâshit, I thought I was helping.â
You exchange a quick glance with Seungmin, who huffs but doesnât say anything. Slowly, you stand and cross the room toward Minho, ignoring the way his eyes widen slightly in surprise. Before he can protest or retreat, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug.
Minho stiffens for a moment, caught off guard, but then he melts into the embrace with a sigh, resting his chin on your shoulder. His arms come up, circling your waist with a grip thatâs firmer than you expectâlike heâs the one who needs comforting.
âI know,â you say softly, your voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. âItâs okay. You didnât mean for any of this to happen.â
Minho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. âStill. I feel like a fucking asshole.â
âYouâre not,â you say firmly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. âI think you scared him off, anyway.â
Minho smirks faintly, though the guilt still lingers in his eyes. âGood,â he mutters. âBut Iâm gonna fight him. Just so you know. That prick doesnât get to pull that shit and walk away.â
âDo what you need to,â you reply softly, resting a hand on his arm.
His smirk falters, and his grip tightens almost imperceptibly. âYouâre too fucking nice,â he mutters, his voice low and rough. âYou know that?â
âMinho,â you wheeze dramatically, giggling weakly as his hold becomes borderline crushing. âCanât breathe.â
âShut up,â Minho says, though his tone is lighter now. âIâm processing being wrong, and Iâm not taking it well.â
Seungmin snorts loudly from the bed, crossing his arms as he leans back against the headboard. âNever thought Iâd see the day,â he says dryly. âMinho, wrong about something? Someone call the press.â
You laugh again, a little stronger this time, and Minho scowls over your shoulder. âYouâre fucking enjoying this, arenât you?â
âAbsolutely,â Seungmin replies without hesitation, his smirk sharp.
Minho pulls back from the hug, ruffling his already messy hair with a groan. âThis is a disaster. I try to help, and it just blows up in my face. I shouldâve known you were too much of a coward to ask her out on your own.â
âHere we fucking go,â Seungmin mutters, rolling his eyes.
Minho points an accusatory finger at him. âYou. This is partly your fault. If youâd just grown a pair and asked her out, I wouldnât have had to intervene!â
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. âAnd your intervention led to exactly what? A shitshow?â
Minho throws up his hands. âIâll admit it! I fucked up, alright? But donât act like you didnât need the nudge.â
Seungmin leans forward slightly, his voice razor-sharp. âNext time, keep your fucking nudges to yourself.â
âBoys,â you interject softly, your tone patient but firm. Both of them snap their attention back to you, and you give Minho a small, reassuring smile. âItâs okay. Really. No oneâs perfect, Minho.â
Minho looks at you, his expression softening further. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. âSeriously, though. If you need anythingâanything at allâyou come to me. I donât care what it is, okay?â
You nod, your smile warm. âI will. Thanks, Minho.â
He leans down slightly, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. His voice drops to a low, serious tone. âI mean it, Y/N. Iâll fight anyone for you. Literally anyone.â
âI know,â you whisper, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his words. âBut I think youâve done enough for tonight.â
Minho straightens up with a sigh, ruffling your hair playfully. âFine. But if that prick so much as breathes in your direction again, heâs dead.â
Seungmin chuckles from the bed, shaking his head. âYouâll have to get in line for that, Minho.â
Minho smirks, turning back to him. âBig talk from the guy whoâs been dragging his feet all fucking semester. Donât get all protective nowâyouâve got a date to plan.â
Seungmin flips him off without missing a beat, and Minhoâs grin widens. You canât help but laugh, the tension in the room finally dissolving as they slip back into their usual banter.
For the first time all night, everything feels like it might actually be okay.
The hum of the city murmurs faintly in the background as you linger outside your apartment building, your phone clutched loosely in one hand. The early evening air is warm, carrying the faint tang of gasoline and asphalt. The golden glow of the setting sun drenches everything in soft, honeyed light. You catch your reflection in a nearby window and smooth down the strap of your yellow bustier crop top. The fabric hugs you snugly, the bright color contrasting against your black flared pants, which sway lightly in the warm breeze. Your black Converse scuff against the pavement as you shift your weight nervously.
The distant growl of an engine draws your attention, low and throaty, vibrating through the air. You glance up as a sleek black motorbike rounds the corner, Seungmin perched effortlessly on top like he was born there. The machine glints in the fading sunlight, polished but clearly well-loved, with just enough wear to make it look lived-in. Seungmin slows the bike as he approaches, and your breath catches at the sight of him.
Heâs dressed head to toe in black, cargo trousers that hang low on his hips, a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his lean frame, a well-worn leather jacket zipped halfway, and scuffed boots that look like theyâve seen more road than carpet. His hair is slightly tousled from the wind, and thereâs a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he kills the engine and kicks the stand down.
âHoly shit,â you breathe, stepping closer as the silence rushes in to fill the space the engine left behind. âYou didnât tell me you had a motorbike.â
Seungmin swings his leg off with ease, the motion fluid and confident. His boots hit the pavement with a satisfying thud as he straightens up, shrugging casually. âNot something I go around broadcasting,â he says, his tone dry but tinged with amusement. âBut I figured itâd make a decent first date impression.â
âDecent?â you echo, your eyes wide and sparkling. âSeungmin, this is fucking unreal.â
His smirk deepens, and he reaches behind the seat, pulling out a smaller leather jacket. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you take it. âJisungâs,â he explains. âFigured youâd need one. Youâre about the same size, and he wonât notice itâs missing for at least a week.â
You shrug the jacket on, the leather slightly oversized but warm and reassuring. âItâs perfect,â you say, zipping it up. âJisung has surprisingly good taste.â
Seungmin chuckles, then picks up the helmet hanging from the handlebars. He steps closer, his movements deliberate as he gently places it over your head. âHold still,â he murmurs, his voice dropping a notch. His fingers brush against your jaw as he fastens the strap under your chin, his touch light but lingering. Once the helmet is secure, he pulls back, his dark eyes meeting yours through the visor. âReady?â
You nod eagerly, your pulse quickening. âHell yes.â
He grins, climbing back onto the bike and steadying it with ease. He gestures for you to climb on, his smirk playful. âHop on, daredevil.â
You swing your leg over the seat carefully, your movements slightly hesitant as you settle in behind him. The leather of his jacket is cool against your palms as you wrap your arms around his waist. You feel the firm press of his body beneath your hands, steady and grounding.
âHow fast do you want to go?â he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder, his voice muffled but clear.
You lean closer, your voice daring and breathless. âFast enough to feel like weâre fucking flying.â
His smirk turns almost wicked, and he nods. âAlright. Hold on tight.â
The bike roars to life beneath you, the deep rumble reverberating through your legs and chest. You tighten your grip on Seungminâs waist as he pulls onto the street, the bike purring as it eases into motion. The city blurs past, a kaleidoscope of lights and colours, as Seungmin weaves through traffic with effortless precision. The wind rushes against you, tugging at the loose strands of your hair that escape from the helmet.
You laugh, the sound bubbling out of you like champagne, light and effervescent. âThis is fucking insane!â you shout, your voice barely audible over the wind.
Seungmin glances at you in the rearview mirror, his grin sharp and full of exhilaration. âYou good back there?â he calls.
âNever better!â you reply, tightening your hold on him as he picks up speed.
The city begins to thin, the towering buildings giving way to open stretches of road. The air cools as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in streaks of deep orange and fiery pink. Seungmin leans into the curves of the road, his movements fluid, the bike responding to him like an extension of his body. You cling to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your heart pounding in your chest.
âFaster?â he calls over his shoulder, his voice teasing but tinged with excitement.
âY!â you shout back, your voice full of laughter.
He obliges, twisting the throttle and sending the bike surging forward. The wind whips past you, the world blurring into streaks of colour and motion. For a moment, it feels like nothing else exists. Just the bike, the open road, and Seungminâs steady presence.
Eventually, Seungmin slows the bike, pulling onto a quiet stretch of road lined with tall trees. He kills the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the rush of the ride. He flips up his visor, glancing back at you with a smirk.
âStill breathing?â he asks, his tone light and teasing.
You pull off the helmet, shaking out your hair as you catch your breath. âBarely. That was incredible.â
He chuckles, leaning back slightly as he watches you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. âGlad you liked it.â
âLiked it?â you repeat, your grin wide. âSeungmin, that is the best fucking date of my life.â
His smirk softens into a genuine smile, and he reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. âGood,â he murmurs. âThat was the goal.â
The sky above has deepened into twilight, the first stars beginning to dot the horizon. You tilt your head back, taking in the clear expanse, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Beside you, Seungmin shifts slightly, resting his elbows on the handlebars as he watches you.
âYouâre something else,â he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of awe.
You glance at him, your cheeks warming at the sincerity in his gaze. âSo are you, Seungmin.â
He chuckles, shaking his head. âYeah, but I think youâve got me beat.â
You laugh softly, leaning closer to him, the warmth of his presence chasing away the lingering coolness of the air. âGuess weâll call it a tie.â
His grin returns, sharp and playful. âDeal. But only because itâs you.â
The air between you feels charged, the adrenaline from the ride mingling with something deeper, more electric. Seungmin's eyes meet yours, and without hesitation, his hands find your waist, his grip firm but grounding as he lifts you gently off the bike and sets you down. The world feels steady beneath your feet, but your heart is anything but.
âCome here,â he murmurs, his voice low and rough, a sound that sends a shiver coursing through your spine.
Before you can respond, his hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you closer. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face toward his. The heat of his body presses into you as he dips you slightly, his lips crashing into yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. The kiss is searing, unrestrained. Like heâs been holding himself back for far too long and has finally decided to let go. His fingers tighten in your hair, and the hand on your back presses you flush against him, eliminating any space.
Your hands fly to his chest instinctively, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt as you melt into him. The faint scent of leather, wind, and his cologne surrounds you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. His lips are soft yet demanding, each movement carrying the weight of everything he hasnât said out loud. The cool night air bites at your skin, but itâs drowned out by the fire between you.
When he finally pulls back, his lips linger close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb brushes against your waist absentmindedly, and his eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours. A grin slowly spreads across his face, equal parts smug and genuinely amused. âYouâre gonna have to hang on tighter than that for the ride back to the frat,â he teases, his voice roughened with desire.
You let out a soft laugh, still catching your breath as you clutch his jacket for balance. âI think I can manage,â you say, your voice softer than usual but no less sure. âIâve got my very own speed demon. How could I say no?â
His grin widens, that slightly cocky, slightly boyish charm making your stomach flip. âDamn right you do,â he mutters, leaning in to steal another kiss, this one quick and playful but no less electrifying.
He steps back reluctantly, letting out a breath as if steadying himself, before turning to grab your helmet from the bike. âHelmet back on, daredevil,â he says, his voice light but still carrying that teasing edge.
You tilt your head as he steps closer, holding the helmet up for you. âOh, youâre worried about safety?â you tease, but you stand still as he slides the helmet over your head with careful hands.
His fingers brush against your jaw as he adjusts the strap under your chin, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. âGotta keep you alive,â he says with a smirk. âWouldnât be much of a date if you died halfway through.â
You laugh, the sound muffled by the helmet but no less genuine. âFair point.â
Once the helmet is secure, he tilts the visor down, his dark eyes crinkling slightly with amusement as he steps back. âMore Tudor art when we get back?â he asks, his tone casual but his gaze still holding that spark of mischief.
You pretend to think, tapping your finger against the helmet. âDepends. Are you going to admit that Anne Boleyn was a badass?â
âFor you?â he says, his smirk softening into something more sincere. âIâll admit anything.â
Your laugh echoes in the cool night air as you climb back onto the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist again. This time, your grip is tighter, not just because of the ride but because you donât want to let go.
Seungmin revs the engine, the deep, throaty growl vibrating through your chest. He glances over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the roar. âReady?â
âAlways,â you say, your voice steady despite the helmet.
He grins, twisting the throttle, and the bike surges forward, cutting through the night like a blade. The city lights blur around you as Seungmin navigates the streets with the same effortless confidence as before, but this time, the ride feels different. Itâs not just adrenaline nowâitâs something more grounded, more connected. Each twist and turn feels like a shared secret, the warmth of his body steadying you as the wind rushes past.
As the city falls behind you, replaced by quiet streets and patches of open road, the sky above deepens into twilight. The stars begin to peek through the inky blackness, their faint light mirrored in the shimmering horizon ahead. You press yourself closer to Seungmin, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you even as the bike picks up speed.
When the lights of the frat house finally come into view, you feel a pang of regret that the ride is almost over. The bike slows as Seungmin pulls smoothly into the driveway, the rumble of the engine fading as he cuts the power. He kicks down the stand and turns to you, his grin still firmly in place.
âStill breathing?â he asks, his voice teasing as he removes his helmet.
You pull off your helmet, your hair tumbling out in a mess of strands. âBarely,â you reply, laughing softly. âBut that was fucking worth it.â
He chuckles, watching you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. âYouâre trouble, you know that?â
âTakes one to know one,â you fire back, your smile widening.
Seungmin shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh, and steps closer to help you off the bike. His hands find your waist again, steadying you as your feet hit the ground. This time, his touch lingers, his dark eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory.
âReady to dive back into Tudor art?â he asks, his tone teasing but affectionate.
You roll your eyes, a laugh bubbling out of you. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âFor you?â he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. âAlways.â
You shake your head, biting back a grin, and follow him toward the house. The warm glow of the frat house lights spills out onto the driveway, and as you step inside, you feel the lingering coolness of the night disappear entirely. With Seungmin by your side, everything feels exactly as it should.
#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#skz x you#skz x y/n#stray kids x you#frat skz#skz au#kim seungmin x reader#kim seungmin x y/n#kim seungmin x you#seungmin x reader#seungmin x y/n#seungmin x you#skz imagines#skz fanfic#stray kids imagines#stray kids au#frat seungmin
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When words collide.
Warnings: arguing, cursing, angst, fluff if you squint, idk anymore.
Matt Ă !reader
It wasnât supposed to be like this.
The kitchen was dimly lit, the soft glow from the overhead light casting sharp shadows. Matt leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitching. You stood across from him, matching his tension, your arms stiff at your sides.
âI just donât fucking get it,â Matt said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. âWhy the hell didnât you just tell me?â
âBecause I knew how youâd react!â you shot back, your voice trembling slightly.
âOh, so now itâs my fault?â he snapped, his brown eyes narrowing. âClassic. Blame me for your bullshit!â
You huffed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. âI didnât lie, Matt. I just... didnât tell you right away. Thereâs a fucking difference.â
âBullshit!â he spat, his voice rising. âIf youâre hiding something, itâs a lie, plain and simple.â
Your throat tightened as his words hit, sharp and unforgiving. âGoddammit, Matt, why do you always have to be so black-and-white about everything? Not everything is some huge fucking betrayal!â
He pushed off the counter, pacing now, his hands tugging at his hoodie strings. âYou went behind my back,â he said, his voice lower but no less cutting. âYou made a decision that affects both of us, and you didnât think I deserved to know?â
âIt wasnât your fucking decision to make!â you fired back, your anger bubbling over. âNot everything in my life has to revolve around you, Matt!â
That made him stop. He turned to you, his face twisting into something youâd never seen before. Hurt. Real, raw hurt.
âWow,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper. âThatâs how you see me? Some... controlling asshole who needs to know everything?â
You froze, your anger dissolving into regret as his words sank in. âMatt, I didnât meanââ
âNo, you fucking did,â he interrupted, his tone bitter now. âAnd you know what? Maybe youâre right. Maybe I do try too hard to be involved. But itâs only because I fucking care, okay? Because I actually give a damn about us. But if thatâs too much for youâŠâ
He trailed off, looking away as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.
âMatt,â you said softly, stepping toward him, but he shook his head, holding up a hand.
âDonât,â he said, his voice cracking slightly. âI need a fucking minute. I canât⊠I just canât do this right now.â
You watched as he turned and walked out of the kitchen, his footsteps heavy as they disappeared down the hallway. The silence he left behind was deafening.
And all you could do was stand there, staring at the empty space where heâd been, wondering how something so small had spiraled into something so goddamn big.
____
Matt sighed, his shoulders slumping as he pushed off the desk. Slowly, he crossed the room until he was standing right in front of you. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes softer now, though the frustration still lingered.
âI hate this,â he muttered, his voice quieter.
You blinked up at him, confused. âHate what?â
âFighting with you,â he said, running a hand through his hair. âItâs exhausting. And... it fucking sucks, okay?â
You felt your chest tighten, guilt wrapping around your heart. âI hate it too,â you said softly. âI hate that I make you feel like this. I justââ You paused, struggling to find the right words. âIâm sorry, Matt. I didnât mean to hurt you.â
He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. âYouâre such a pain in my ass, you know that?â
A small smile tugged at your lips despite everything. âYeah, well, youâre not exactly a walk in the park either, Sturniolo.â
That earned a faint chuckle from him, the tension in the room easing just a little.
For a second, the two of you just stood there, neither sure what to say. Then, with a sigh, Matt reached out, his hands resting on your shoulders. âIâm sorry too,â he said, his voice genuine. âI shouldnât have snapped at you like that. I just... I hate feeling like Iâm not enough for you to trust me.â
Your heart ached at his words. Without thinking, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. âYou are enough,â you said softly, your voice muffled against his hoodie. âI promise, Matt. I just... Iâm a mess sometimes, okay? But youâre the one thing Iâm always sure about.â
His arms tightened around you, his chin resting on top of your head. âYouâre so fucking annoying,â he muttered, but there was no heat in his wordsâonly the warmth of someone who cared too much to stay mad.
You laughed, pulling back just enough to look up at him. âAnd yet, youâre still here.â
He smirked, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. âYeah, well, someoneâs gotta keep you in line.â
You rolled your eyes but leaned into his touch, your smile soft. âThanks for putting up with me.â
âAlways,â he said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.
And just like that, the fight was behind you. Because no matter how messy things got, you both knew that at the end of the day, youâd choose each otherâagain and again.
Tags!đŹ
@chasekeithh @sophiabirlemm @delilahsturniolo @chrisfavoritewhore
Angst idea from!: @stvrnioloslvt âĄ
First divider from!: @bernardsbendystraws I think!
#matt x reader#spotify#angst#angst with a happy ending#arguing#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets
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thanks buddy
#i blinked and then this was on my tablet#the eyes are supposed to be like... shadows i think i fucked that up but whatever!!! whatever#he frew up....#its paint i think....#scribble salad#welcome home#wally darling#tw eyestrain#bc it certainly strains My eyes!!!#no seriously i think coloring this burned my retinas#the red is so deliciously Violent....
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đđđđđâđ đđđ đđđđđ? đâđ đđđđđđđđđ, đ«đ¶đȘđ»đ¶đč
prisoner! sukuna x psychologist! reader
⧠synopsis: youâve been assigned to the supposed most âdangerousâ prisoner, sukuna. but what happens when you two start to fall for each other instead?
⧠cw: smut, quick paced, semi public sex, risky sex, choking, kissing, pussy eating, blow jobs, breeding, creampie, fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, age gap
⧠wc: 4.7k
⧠a/n: i am not a doctor and i am especially not specialized in psychology. i have made up all of this. also donât sleep with murderers unless itâs sukuna
Your heels clicked loudly on the stained prison tiles. The echo of your soft footsteps trailing along the narrow walls of the enclosed hallway.
Sukuna.
That was the prisoner you were assigned to. A man who had killed more people than youâd met in your entire life as a doctor, a psychologist at that. So youâd met a lot of people.
Two guards trailed closely behind you, glaring warningly at the inmates who smirked as you walked past the line of cells. A collection of whistles and cheers sounding at the mere sight of a woman as attractive as yourself.
How long had it been since theyâd seen one after all.
âHey Doc⊠you sure you wanna take this case.. i mean, i donât doubt ya or anything but this one.. heâs bad. Dangerous.â
âNow what kind of doctor would i be if i feared a little danger. Heâs still a patient.â You smiled, ignoring the way your hairs stood as you were led deeper into the institution. The part where they held those deemed a danger to society.
Those who had a no chance of even seeing sunlight again.
You were nervous, your heart thumping loudly in your chest when you scanned your surroundings. There werenât any cells. There were only.. rooms. Fully enclosed rooms with a singular window for passing food.
Every part of your being begged for you to turn around and run. To not even interact with whoever sat on the other side of that door. And you froze when bright red eyes pierced into yours. The rest of his face casted behind a dark shadow as his head tilted back. Giving you sight to the small smirk creeping onto his features.
âDoc, i really think that-â It was the other guard who spoke up. Both of them holding nothing on their features but fear. It was clear that they never even bothered with Sukuna. The rumors had been enough to make every guard turn a blind eye.
âHey, itâs fine. Okay? This is what i do.â It really was. The guard gave you a curt nod and a sigh when you clasped both his hands in your smaller one. Offering him a reassuring nod.
âIf anything happens, us and about five others are stationed close. Good luck Doc.â
You gave him a small thanks, your head held high as the door was pulled open roughly. Revealing a pink haired man who sat on his bed against the walls, his eyebrow raising when you dared to step inside. Nodding to the guard to close the door.
You might as well have been a dead woman.
âYouâre scared.â His deep voice rung out, keeping his eyes on you as you pulled out a small chair that was tucked away near the sink.
âAnd how do you know, Sukuna?â Your tone was steady, letting out a breath when the shakiness you felt wasnât reflected in your voice.
Sukuna hummed, his smirk widening when you spoke to him like a normal being. To stuttering, no harshness. Just your sweet voice saying his name. âI can smell it, Doc.â He loved the way you tried to hide your squirm under his gaze.
âSo, Sukuna. Tell me something about yourself.â You steered away from his accusation, holding eye contact even when he leaned forward. Taking you in from head to toe. You were hot, he liked that. You seemed to like being confident too. And God did you smell fucking delicious.
He wanted to eat you alive.
Break you.
Use you.
He really did. But you were so fascinating, and heâd only just met you. Who knew how entertaining you could be.
âIâve killed people.â He was blunt, eyes almost begging you to keep asking these ridiculous questions. It was making his cock twitch.
âWell Sukuna, that is common knowledge, donât ya think? I wanna know something else.. tell me a secret hmm?â You leaned forward with a smile, elbows rested on your knees as you looked to him for a response.
He reciprocated your actions, leaning forward until you felt his hot breath fan over your face. âA secret huh? Alright Doc..â he watched as your breathing sped up, using every strength in your body to not pull back. You were brave, he liked that. âI surprisingly donât wanna kill you right now.â
âIâm glad to hear that.â
âI said right now, didnât say anything about later.â He pushed away from you, one of his knees up to his chest when he leaned back against the concrete wall behind him. âLet me ask you, Doctor. Are you stupid?â
Your head tilted at where this was going. You were supposed to be the one asking the questions. But a conversation was two sided, this wouldâve made things easier. âIâd like to believe not. Why do you ask?â
âBecause you really think that if i try to kill you, some measly guards would come to your rescue.â He scoffed.
âBut you donât want to kill me. Thatâs all that matters.â
Fair.
Sukuna watched as you took a quick peek down at his files. There was something that you missed, that much was evident. âFinally found it huh?â
âI havenât found anything that i didnât see before.â You objected, glancing to the door with your lip hanging loosely between your teeth.
âDonât. Donât do that.â He demanded lowly, watching with lidded eyes as you let your plump bottom lip, slick after running your tongue over it, fall back into place. Sukuna breathed deeply, finally looking away from you as he swallowed hard. Closing his eyes with his head rested behind him.
There was something about you that he wanted a taste of. It was driving him crazy..er, âI never did anything to these other doctors. They were just weak. Got scared way too fast.â
âAnd what did you do to scare them away?â
âNothing.â He spat, âThey came in here acting all high and mighty, talked to me like i was beneath them. So i simply didnât bother to hide how much i wanted to strangle them. And somehow that makes me the bad guy right Doc?â
You shook your head, âNo, you have a right to respect too. They should never have treated you as unequals.â Lying was all in the job description.
âGood try Doc. But you and i both know thatâs a load of crap.â He finally peeled his eyes back open, and you couldnât help your mind from wandering to how attractive he was in the dim light. He was extremely built, and had the facial structure that made you clench your thighs. âNow, we gonna finish our game of twenty one questions or not?â
He was actually being cooperative.
âYes we are. How about i start?â
âIâll start.â There was no room for objection in his tone. âWhatâs your name?â
You contemplated whether to tell him or not, eventually letting it out with ease. Though you missed the small smile tugging at his lips when he muttered a small âcute.â
âMy turn, what was your childhood like?â You watched his face grow cold, a small glare being directed at anything in the room but you. âNext question.â
âSukuna..â
âI said next question. How old are you?â
You sighed, âIâm twenty eight.â His eyes widened, that was extremely young for a doctor. âIs there one good memory you have from before you killed for the first time?â
âI had twin kittens. Do you have a boyfriend?â
You were taken aback by the question, mouth opening and closing a few times before you chuckled. âNo. I do not have a boyfriend.â
âGood.â
You jumped when the door was yanked open, the guard eyeing Sukuna warily before nodded to you. âYour timeâs up, Doc.â
âOh, already? Could we get just a few more minutes?â
âYou know how dangerous he is Doc.. we canât risk it.â
âYou heard the man. Iâm dangerous, Doctor.â
You nibbled at your lips softly, and Sukuna fought a groan as you did exactly what he warned you not to. Standing up, you gave Sukuna a warm smile, the gesture making his stomach get all weird inside. âGoodbye until our next session Sukuna.â
He only hummed, the door being shut behind you as you were led away.
It was back to darkness.
There was more than enough light, sure. But it suddenly felt so empty without you there.
â
You couldnât keep Sukuna off your mind when you arrived home. A part of you just really wanted to figure him out. The other actually liked his company.
You mustâve been so sick in the head. Splashing your face with cold water as you mentally scolded yourself. What was wrong with you? He was a criminal.
â
The next morning you walked the path that you had taken the previous day to get to Sukuna. This time without the guards following you.
There was only one who stood outside of the door to let you in with a small nod of acknowledgement.
Sukunaâs head perked up at the familiar clicking of those heels you wore. His signature smirk on his face as he stared you down. âJust couldnât get enough huh Doc? Arenât you forgetting that iâm dangerous?â
You took a seat, no file in had this time. âGood morning Sukuna, how are you?â
âIf i said better now that youâre here, would that be clichĂ©?â
You laughed, an actual laugh. A sweet one that made his heart flutter the tiniest bit while blood rushed to his groin.
âItâs very good to see you too. How about we get started yeah?â You paused as you collected your thoughts. âYou seem to be heavily affected by people calling you.. dangerous. Why?â
âEverybody is dangerous. It just takes pushing at the right buttons to get it out of them. Half of the people here have done just as bad as i have yet iâm the only dangerous one. Makes so much sense right?.â
He shook his head. âTell me Doctor, do you really think i just happened to get caught? That i couldnât get out of this damn place if i wanted too? Hell, tell me you realize that i could drop a good twenty more bodies right here, right now.â
You shifted in your seat. âI think that you let yourself get caught because youâre tired. Because thereâs a small sense of peace you get from being in here. And i think that you arenât trying to leave because you donât want to.â
âYou almost had it Doc. See, i was well on my way out until you came. So i might stick around for just a little bit longer.â
Your heart fluttered, for you? Giving up on fighting the rational side of you as you continued to engage in conversation. Getting Sukuna to slowly open up to you more.
âDo you have any friends Sukuna?â
âI donât consider people friends. They just exist alongside me.â
âIf I asked you to be your friend, what would you say?â It was routine, but you really were curious.
âIâd say you came be whatever you want to be Doc.â
Another flutter.
âHave you ever been in love Sukuna?â
He was silent, jaw clenching as his gaze got harsh. âNext question.â
âWhat was she like?â
âI said next fucking question Doctor.â
âAnd i said, what was she like?â You leaned forward, pressing for him to answer the question.
âYouâre stubborn arenât you? I wonder what my hand would loom like around that pretty little neck.â He grinned, sharp teeth peeling from beneath his lips as he brought his face to yours. âShe was a lot like you.â
âWhat happened to her?â You knew how touchy that question wouldâve been.
âNothing. The bitch left.â
Oh.
âIâm sorry.â
He stared at you in confusion, âI never said she died.â
âYes. But thatâs only physically. When she broke your heart she died to you. And that hurts just as bad.â
He was silent, studying your eyes. Trying to get a read on you. âWhat else do you want to know Doc?â
You were getting somewhere.
Sukuna found you smart. Thought that you knew a lot. Found it hot how good you were at cracking him. But it pissed him off that the one thing you didnât seem to pick up was how much it hurt to watch you leave at the end of each session.
â
A week later had led to a Monday morning where you hadnât gone to the prison. You had quite an agenda for the day that could cost you your job if you didnât get it done.
That was something Sukuna was obviously clueless about. It was why he thought youâd just decided to up and go after he had just started liking to have you around. After heâd started opening up to you.
It was also why he was causing a fit. Yelling at guards to get you to him now. That he wanted to see you. Needed to see you. A line of men laying knocked out atop each other from being sent to âhandleâ the crazed prisoner.
Would you really not come back? Would you really abandon him? It seemed like that was common with the people he cared even the slightest for.
Sukunaâs fist met the wall near his bed, knuckles bloodied as he cracked into the hard surface. Chest heaving up and down heavily when his hands reached to tug at strands of pink.
He blinked when he heard the clicking of heels on the tiles. Immediately scowling at the unfamiliarity of them. âWho the fuck is this?â He growled through the small window.
âThis is Dr Smith, sheâs-â
âI donât fucking care who she is. Bring me my doctor. Now.â
â
Back at your flat, you dropped the piles of paper in front of you at the sound of your phone ringing.
It was a number you didnât have saved.
âHello, Doctor ___ speaking- yes? Oh my. I- i am so sorry. Yes, i will be there right away.â
What had you done?
You practically ran through the halls after parking outside the building. Finding many guards posted outside his door with guns in hand. Some of them spotting very black and blue eyes.
âYou can all go now.â You panted, it was clear that you had been in a hurry. âPlease.â
They all shared a look, finally walking away and allowing you to slowly open the door.
âWhere were you?â
âIâm really sorry Sukuna. I was so busy today and-â you gasped when a hand reached out to wrap around your neck. Slamming you into the wall behind you with his face buried in your neck.
Sukuna inhaled your floral scent, groaning to himself as his grip on your delicate skin tightened. âSo you just left me here today? Am i not as important as your other little patients? Is that it hmm?â
Deep down, you had hurt his feelings. And he couldnât help the way he clung to you as your hand lifted to his cheek. Turning his face to look down at yours.
âN-no i promise you. Youâre just as important as anyone else. I would have never missed our session if i didnât have to.â
âMake it up to me.â
It was the perfect opportunity.
âW-what?â
âStrip for me Doctor.â He let go of your neck, letting you catch your breath while looking up at him timidly.
âSukuna..â
âWhy so shy now doctor? We both know you want to.â
You shook your head, shrinking under his gaze with a protesting whisper. âI donât know what youâre talking about Sukuna. This is very unprofessionâ ahh.â
Sukuna brought his knee up between your thighs, pressing it into your clothed clit. His lips ghosted over your ear, hot breath fanning your skin as he breathed deeply. âYou can always leave if you want to. Iâm used to that after all.â
You shifted on your feet when your back arched. A small whine leaving your mouth when he pulled away from you and gestured to the door.
He smirked, âBlouse first.â
You bit your lip, unbuttoning your shirt until your bra was on display. The heavy swell of your breasts causing Sukunaâs mouth to water when he nodded to the bra.
With your eyes still on his you let your breasts spring out of their confinement. Two pert nipples pointing right at him as his dick rose. His hand palming himself under the pair of black pants with a shiver. âCâmere.â
You walked over to him on shaky legs. Sitting down on his lap with your head to the floor. âUh uh,â His hand reached under the your chin to force your eyes back on his. âNone of that Doc.â
You moaned when his tongue swirled around one of your nipples. Sucking your breast into his mouth while he palmed at the other. âThese are even more perfect outside that tight fucking shit of yours.â
Sukuna watched as you shivered when he ran his finger down your belly. Cupping your clothed cunt with the jerk of his hips into your ass. âFuck.. take that off.â
You hurriedly peeled off your pants, Sukunaâs pupils dilating at the sight of your lace panties. âWore this just fâme hmm Doc? All this for Mr Dangerous.â He groaned out.
Sukuan didnât give you a chance to respond before flipping you onto the hard mattress they called a bed. Lifting your heel clad feet onto his shoulders with his head hovering over your pussy. His tongue darting out to lick at the wet spot building from your arousal. âYouâre real dirty fâ a doctor.â He teased, glancing behind him with a chuckle. âImagine if you got caught.â
Your eyes shot up to the small window, taking note of the vacant corridor as per your request.
âGod, you smell so fucking good. Wanna devour that pretty pussy.â He breathed, large hand ripping the flimsy fabric to expose your glistening folds. âHmm, this wet all for me.â
You mewled when his long tongue licked a stripe up your slit. Swirling around your clit before sloppily dipping into your hole. His hums sending vibrations through your clit as he lapped at your dripping slick.
âSukunaââ you mewled, back arching as you reached for his hair. Tugging softly with the curl of your toes when his tongue and fingers swapped places. The two joints fucking up roughly into your g spot as he sucked noisily at your clit. âF-fuckk, nnghâ so good.â You cried out, tears welling in the corner of your eyes as your body filled with pleasure.
âYeah? You like that Doc? Bet you wanna get that greedy cunt stuffed right after.â He grunted, your eyes rolling back in a string of muffled moans as your other hand shot up to your lips.
Your legs began to tremble, Sukunaâs smirk growing wider and wider until he stopped his movements. Watching as you blinked down at him with a sniffled whine.
âYou left me. You know how much that fucking hurt? I thought i would never see you again.â
âIâm-â
âYouâre sorry. Yeah, yeah.. i know.â He rolled his eyes, crawling over your body with a sigh. Using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a stray tear before pressing his lips to yours. Making you taste yourself on his tongue.
You fell deeper into the kiss, eyes closing in satisfaction as his lips moves hungrily on yours. Pulling away with a string of salvia connected you to him.
âLetâs reverse the roles yeah?â He whispered, standing up to sit in the chair that you usually sat in. âSo, my adorable little patient.. put these tiny fingers to work on that clit of yours. I want you to make yourself cum.â
You whimpered, your fingers immediately meeting your sensitive clit with a shiver.
âYou know what to do.â He encouraged. Your fingers beginning to rub small circles on the small bud before speeding up. Little gasps and moans falling past your lips as your stomach burned with heat.
Your eyes locking onto Sukunaâs red ones as his head tilted. Just like it had the first day you met him. âAhh, K-kuna. Fuckk.â You cried, head falling back with your eyes still on his. The primal look in his eyes making your insides flutter as he did nothing but watch you. Not even freeing his painfully hard cock.
âSukunaâ c-canât. Canât hold it.â Your voice cracked, body shaking lightly as your orgasm washed over you.
âYes you can.â
âNngh, canât Kuna. Need to let go.â
He stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity, your breathing getting heavy as you desperately waited on his permission.
He leaned his head back, eyes boring into your fingers working your wet cunt before nodding. âGo ahead.â
You came with a silent moan, body spasming uncontrollably as your pussy leaked onto his only pair of sheets.
âDirty, dirty girl. Look at that mess.â You shied away feom his gaze. âAnd look at how hard you made me. Come fix it.â
You stood on wobbly feet, barely able to balance in your heels as you fell to your knees before him. Looking up at him through your lashes while pulling down his pants.
You blinked at the mere size of his bulge. He was huge. Tugging off his underwear to reveal his thick, veiny length. Pointing up to the sky with a fiery red tip. âSuck.â
You took him past your lips, barely able to take even half of him before he hit the back of your throat. Your fist stroking all the parts of him you couldnât take.
Sukuna groaned, head flinging back with another strained one at how good your mouth felt. âS-shit doc. You really got a mouth on ya.â He gasped, eyes meeting yours as you attempted to take him down your throat. Your drool coating both your lips and his cock as you lewdly sucked him off.
He took your head into his hold, letting you do your own thing as he grunted with each jerk of his hips. Defined abs tensing when he grew closer to his release.
âFuck Doc, gonâ shoot my cum down that tight throat of yours.â He breathed. Holding you down onto him as you gagged and sputtered lightly, Sukunaâs cock twitching before you felt the warm liquid run down your throat.
âWish i could fuck that pussy so bad.â He let go of your head, wiping a drop of his cum from your chin before pushing his finger past your lips. Watching as you sighed in content while sucking every last drop. âItâs too bad that in about one minute those guards are gonna come get you Doc. Our session is over.â
You had no time to question how he knew. Scurrying to redress with widened eyes.
Sukuna may not have had a clock. Nor was he able to distinctly see the sun rise and set. But heâd learned to count the seconds when you were around. He knew how much time he had with you.
âAnd⊠now.â
At that very moment the door swung open. Sukuna having easily pulled back up his pants after giving you your seat back. Both of you looking as professional as you possibly could.
âSee you tomorrow Doc.â He smiled innocently, watching as you scrambled out while avoiding his eyes.
You really fucked up now.
It was hard to keep him out of your mind before. But now, trying was futile. Youâd gotten a taste and you needed more. Which was why your brain would not let you close your eyes without thinking of him fucking you.
â
The next morning you bit back a whimper as your clit was caught between your rubbing thighs. You had worn a tight pencil skirt with no panties. Just for Sukuna.
You were thankful that the guards had complied to your wishes of them leaving.
You wanted to stop yourself. To go back home and forget about the red eyed prisoner. He may not have been dangerous to you physically. But to your heart and mind.. heâd be the death of you.
When the door closed behind you, you found yourself bring pushed roughly into the same wall as last time. Sukuna letting out an animalistic groan as he captured your lips on his. Kissing you so much more feverishly than yesterday.
âYou donât know how much i need you. Didnât even sleep last night.â He panted, turning you around so that your chest rested against the concrete surface. âMissed you so much Doc.â His voice softened, kissing down your neck while grinding up into you. His fingers finding their way under your skirt with a smirk against your skin. âAnd i thought you couldnât get any dirtier.. no panties huh?â
You moaned when he prodded at your already dripping cunt. The thought of him being enough to have gotten you soaked. âShit- tell me what you want Doc. Let me hear you say it.â He growled lowly, ready to snap the second the words left your mouth.
âPleaseâ please fuck me.â
Sukuna hungrily shoved your skirt up. The fabric bunching at your hips as he freed his aching cock. Both of you letting out a noise of satisfaction when he sunk into you, his large hands holding tightly onto your hips to pull you into him. Your back arching as your hands shot out to the wall for support.
âO-ohh God.â You cried loudly, your lips parted in shaky moans as Sukunaâs cock rammed deep near the entrance of your cervix. His veins grazing at your g spot as the fat girth stretched you to your limit.
âNah baby, âs only me.â
âKunaaâ so goood- ahhh.â Tears pooled in your eyes, Sukunaâs hand reaching into your hair to pull you back into his chest. Your nails clawing at the wall in front of you as he destroyed yours.
âTaking me so fucking well. Shit- pussyâs so damn snug.â He husked, hips snapping noisily into yours as he fucked into your walls mercilessly. Basking in the sounds of your choked screams and mewls. The way you sobbed underneath him when your knees buckled.
He was fucking you so hard and deep. Better than anything youâd felt before. His cock slamming into all the places that would drive you crazy.
âThe day you fucking leave me i will break outta here Doc. And i will find you. Youâre mine got it?â There was a certain seriousness in his voice that made goosebumps arise on your skin. Your salty tears mixing with your drool as they ran down your flushed face.
âAnd when i do get outta here youâre gonna have my baby Doc. âM gonna fuck you again and again tillâ i eventually give you my fuckâing kid.â His breathing became ragged, your body rocking forward with each of his movements.
He smirked. âIâve fucked ya this dumb already?â His cock twitching inside you as your body moved with his cock like a fleshlight. Your vision blurred as your head grew light, dizzy. You couldnât think, every roll of Sukunaâs hips clouding your mind as you let an incoherent babble drip off your tongue. Shakily chanting his name when he reached forward to pinch at your clit.
âLook at you. Look so pretty underneath me like this.â His free hand snaked up to your neck, groaning loudly at the feeling of your heart beat on his skin. Pulling you up so your back rested flat against his broad chest, wandering lips meeting your exposed collarbone. âLet go fâme.â
Your body quivered as you tightened around him. Letting out a whimper-like cry as you came messily on his cock. A breathy moan of his own sounding in your ear when his thrusts began to get sloppy.
âKunaaa.. inside. Want you inside. âM on the pill.â You begged, legs giving way as he held you flush against him.
âWhatever you want, Doc.â Slowly coming to a halt as he buried himself inside your warmth, tongue darting out to lick at your tear stained cheeks. Feeling his cock swell as he pumped you full of his cum. Painted your gummy walls in nothing but white
âLooks like iâm sending you back with my cum dripping down your thighs.â He pulled out with a grin. His cum leaking out of your fluttering cunt in small spurts when he used his hands to knead at the flesh of your ass. âHottest thing iâve seen in a while.. after you of course.â
You hummed, eyes shutting as you fell into him. Feeling the thick substance slowly dripping down your legs while spreading over your sticky folds. Sukuna stumbled back onto his bed with you on top of him. Your face nestling into his chest with a soft smile. âHey Doc.. i love ya but those guards are gonâ be back soon.â
âSo worth it.â Was the one thought branding itself into your mind as your body registered the rough, lust filled fuck.
âShit.â
â
You and Sukuna had gotten so much closer over yet another week. You had never believed in falling in love that quickly until now. You couldnât help it. You felt so much better when he was around. Seeing him was the highlight of your day- especially now that youâd convinced for longer sessions.
He felt the same way. You were the second person he had fallen in love with and somehow even harder. You made his heart.. swell. And he was serious about busting out to start a life with you.
âSo, your first love. We never finished talking about her.â You smirked, notepad back in hand as you did your job. Sukuna having been stealing small kisses from you between every question.
âHow about we forget about my first love and focus on my current one. You.â
#jujutsu kaisen smut#divider by cafekitsune#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader smut#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader smut#sukuna#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu sukuna#jjk x you#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut
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âđâËâč⥠breaking the one rule he was always supposed to follow, rafe found himself sitting in the shadows of the gentlemenâs club where bitchy!pogue!reader worked at. imagine your surprise when you find out the person that paid for a private dance with you is your brotherâs best friend.. and business partner.
warnings: dealer!rafe, stripper!reader, brotherâs best friend trope, mentions of you and barry arguing, sexual tension, flirty banter, making out, heavy petting
a/n: this is what bitchy!pogue!reader is wearing in this btw.. i watched anora and worked on this right after lol
wc: 1.1k
rafe knew it was wrong the second he got in his truck and drove down to âpink sugarâ to see if you were there. he knew it was wrong when he walked in and scanned the room for you, and he knew it was wrong when he took a corner seat furthest from the stage. after overhearing you and barry arguing about what you did for work, rafe couldnât help himself from seeing what was making you come home with a duffle bag full of cash. his curiosity got the best of him, and when he saw you emerge from behind the curtains, pink lace lingerie hugging the curves of your body, the cutest pair of bunny ears adorning your head, with a little bunny tail on your g-string to match, all the guilt he once felt melted away into nothing.
you were sin with legs. rafe watched you smile at the men in the front, the group of them emptying their wallets when you hadnât even did anything to make them shower you with cash. then again, rafe felt the urge himself to give you all of his money just because you were so pretty. rafe swallowed thickly when your song started and the lights went low, everyoneâs attention zeroing in on you as you lowered yourself to the glossy floor of the stage. he watched you crawl to the center, arching your back as the rhinestones around your eyes sparkled under the club lighting. one of the men reached out, poking the little ball that was your bunny tail, slipping what looked like a hundred dollar bill in the string of your bottoms.
rafe hated the way the men in here were looking at you right now, his fists clenching at his sides as he imagined what kind of thoughts were currently running through their heads. âthatâs it, baby!â a drunken holler was shouted, the rest of the club following suit and bursting into a fit of cheers when you managed to spin around the pole in the middle of the stage. rafe watched in awe, deciding he needed to get you to himself, and away from the hungry stares of the crowded club. making his way over to the bouncers that stood outside of a concealed hallway, he handed both of them a few crispy bills. âget the one on stage with me and iâll double it.â without another word, both of the security guards moved aside, letting rafe through.
you finished the rest of your set, blowing kisses to the men who made it a mission of theirs to spoil you rotten tonight before you made your way to the locker rooms where you refreshed your hair and makeup. ây/n?â nancy, the ownerâs right hand woman walked in, âi have a private dance for a younger gentleman in room five.. he requested you specifically.â you smiled at her through the reflection of the mirror. âokay, iâll be right over.â you nodded, giving yourself one more glance before making your way down the dimly lit hallway. the first private dance of the night always made you a little anxious, but at least you knew you were guaranteed a hundred dollars that you didnât have to share.
you took a breath, twisting the door knob open before going in, shutting the door closed right after. âi must be special if you chose me..â you placed a hand on the manâs shoulder, walking around him before standing between his legs. looking down, you felt your heart drop to your stomach when he looked up, the face all too familiar to you. âyeah, you are.â you gasped, retreating your hand from him as if he burned you. âwhat the fuck do you think youâre doing, rafe?!â you nearly lost your footing when you stepped back, suddenly feeling exposed as his eyes trailed down your body. âwhat? iâm just a paying customer.â he shrugged, tossing back the drink in his hand.
âoh, yeah? tell that to barry. heâll kill you if he finds out you were here.â you scoffed, your eyes meeting his. rafe stared at you for a moment, motioning for you to get closer to him. you swallowed thickly, the small disco ball in the room illuminating his features. âiâm not gonna do anything to you, i just wanted you away from everyone out there.â he spoke lowly. you took a step, accepting the hand he held out for you before he guided you onto his lap. you wrapped an arm around his shoulders like it was second nature, his large palm running up and down your thigh. âsooo.. you think youâre doing me a favor by pulling me back here so no one else can watch me dance?â your face was just mere inches away from rafeâs.
âiâm losing out on a lot of money, âcountry club..â you whispered, the slow music playing softly in the background. âhow much do you want. throw me whatever number youâd like.â you smiled, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of his polo. âtwo thousand,â you spoke, âwith interest.â rafe laughed, nodding his head as he trailed his hand from your thigh to your hip, adjusting the strap of your g-string against your skin. âwith interest, huh?â he smirked, eyes falling down to your lips, â..iâd happily give that to you.â you leaned in first, just wanting to feel his lips on yours. rafe stilled for a second, a groan rumbling from his chest when he pulled you closer by your neck, returning your kiss tenfold.
âis barry home?â he was breathless when he pulled away, his hands roaming your body as if he wanted to take you right then and there. at the mention of your brother, reality seemed to grip its claws into you when you realized what you were doing right now. rafe saw the look of confliction pass over your face, his fingers cupping your chin to avert your attention back onto him. âhey..â he whispered, âi wonât tell if you donât.â his words echoed in your head, his cologne and his proximity overtaking your senses. as if you two were meeting on the same page, rafe watched as your eyes grew dark, a smile gracing your lips. âi donât kiss and tell, rafe.â as if a flip switched, you two began ravaging each other once more.
time slowed when you two moaned into each otherâs mouths, grappling onto one another as if the two of you would disappear if you let go. âbarryâs gone for the night.â you managed to speak between kisses, rafe nodding as he cupped you through your bra. just as he was going to tell you to leave with him, the bouncer outside the door yelled that rafeâs thirty minutes were up. âwhat the fuck, already?â he glanced down at his watch. you sighed, letting rafe pick you up before he kissed you one more time. âget your shit and letâs go, iâll be waiting at the front door.â he squeezed the globes of your ass, making you gasp as he walked out. and just like that, rafe never let you step foot in that club again.
#â€ïžâ âč works#âËâč⥠bitchy!pogue!reader#outer banks#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#rafe outer banks#obx#rafe obx#obx smut#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx x reader#dealer!rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#drew starkey
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bottle up old love (jjk) (m)
summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.
pairing: Jungkook x Reader
rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)
genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff
word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble đ)
prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)
warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol
MASTERLIST
âDonât fucking touch me!â
You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.
âWhy do you gotta be like that?â Seungcheol whines. âI thought we were having fun.â
âYou and I have very different ideas of fun.â You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.
âCâmon.â He matches your movement, reaches for you again. âInvite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didnât you? I told you that was just a warm-up.â
The buildingâs brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. âLast time you didnât follow me to a bar I didnât even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?â
âLet me come up, and Iâll tell you,â he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.
âStop!â you shout before heâs ripped away from you so suddenly that youâre left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.
Thereâs a thudâthe sound of a fist hitting fleshâand a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.
âWhat the fuck?â he shrieks, and itâs only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like heâs stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.
And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.
Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. âIâm giving you ten seconds to get out of here.â
âWho the fuck are you?!â
âTen,â Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheolâs direction. âNine.â
Seungcheol straightensâclearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkookâs shoulder. âThis isnât over, bitch.â
Then he spins and takes off running down the street.
Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but youâre shivering where you stand, unsure whether youâre more affected by Seungcheolâs behavior or the ghost whoâs unexpectedly in front of you.
âAre you okay?â he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.
He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when youâre halfway up the second stairwellâalmost to your floorâyou pause on the landing, spinning his way.
âWhat do you think youâre doing?â
His eyes are gentle, sincere. âMaking sure you get in safely.â
âThereâs no need for that,â you assert. âIâm already in my building. Thereâs a keypad. Iâm good.â
âThe keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.â
âSo I should be worried about you then?â
He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. âPlease just let me see you inside.â
You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know itâs no use. Know that heâs stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.
Itâs how he broke up with you after all.
You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until youâre in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.
âThere. Iâm in,â you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. âLeave.â
But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. âWhat are you going to do if he comes back?â
âThatâs my problem, isnât it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.â
Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You donât want him here. Donât want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.
Though, truth be told, you donât expect to ever be fully over him.
âWeâre done, Jungkook,â you murmur. âYou made sure of that.â
And you close the door in his face.
The distress subsides quickly once heâs out of sightâlike he was never there to begin withâand you donât linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how youâve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So youâve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.
You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that youâll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy thatâs plagued you on occasion where itâs his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).
The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and youâve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.
Or so you think.
After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.
And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? Youâre pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldnât be surprised if he filed it away in his head.
Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.
Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.
âWhat are you doing?â you ask him for the second time tonight.
âHe might come back.â
âAnd youâre going to what? Fight him?â
He shrugs. âIf I have to.â
âYeah?â You raise an eyebrow, challenging. âYouâre going to sit out here all night?â
He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like heâs firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. âYes.â
You roll your eyes at him but donât doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, itâs stubborn. âYouâre going to scare the neighbors.â
âWho, Mrs. Kwon?â A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighborâs apartment. âI think sheâd be delighted to see me.â
If youâre being honest, she probably would be. Sheâs always adored Jungkook and praised him as the âkind, handsome young manâ who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, sheâd asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldnât be seeing him anymore.
âDonât worry, dear,â she said. âHeâll come around.â
Well sheâs turned out to be right in that heâs certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you donât know whether itâs his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.
Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.
âYou coming?â you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.
Thereâs a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that heâs actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasnât been here a thousand times. Hasnât cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasnât watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.
Hasnât made love to you on the couch.
You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. Itâs strangeâseeing him here againâand you canât help but think about the last time he stood in this room. Itâd been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.
âYou never cleaned that?â He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.
You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how youâd knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.
âI kind of forgot about it,â you say. âStopped noticing it after a while.âÂ
Itâs a lie. There was never a time when you didnât notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you havenât been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.
Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkookâs face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.
âIâm sorry.â
Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.
âWhat?â
He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. âFor how things ended. Iâm sorry.â
You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.
âI donât know why you would be,â you challenge, âbeing that you didnât even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.â
Jungkook huffs at that; you think heâs resisting the urge to roll his eyes. âDid it really matter?â
âYes.â
He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.
âWas there someone else?â you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.
âNo,â he murmurs after a moment. âThere wasnât anyone else.â He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. âThere hasnât been anyone else since either.â
This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.
âSo then why?â
He sets his jaw, his Adamâs apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And itâs this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.
The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.
âDonât touch me,â you gasp, recoiling until youâre out of reach. âIâŠI hate you.â
It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like youâve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you donât mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.
Jungkook muddles towards the couchâmore of a defeated slump dragging his steps than angerâand you think heâs going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.
âThe gala,â he mutters. âThatâs when I decided.â
You know which one heâs talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you canât pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way heâd smiled at you throughout. The way heâd pulled you close and danced you around the room.
âI donâtâŠI donât understand.â
He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. âI realized that I didnât deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.â
Whatever you thought his reason had beenâwhatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past yearâthis is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, youâre surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.
âAre you fucking serious right now?â you growl, taking an angered step towards him. âYou were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I donât know, discuss it with me first?â
His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. âI was stupidââ
âNo, shit.â
âBut can you blame me?â he presses. âThere we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friendsâŠâ His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. âAnd Iâm just a tattoo artist.â
The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remainsâthe sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.
âJust a tattoo artist,â you repeat. âJungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You mustâve known that.â
His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesnât seem fully convinced.
So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. âYou started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.â You shake your headâhalf in irritation, half in awe. âAnd look at you now! Youâre thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.â
His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.
âSo how can you possibly act like you werenât enough?â you push. âYou are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.â One more step, and suddenly youâre almost chest-to-chest. As always, youâre unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. âI only wanted you. Iâve only ever wanted yââ
He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like itâs been waiting for this.
âIâm not. Not thriving,â he mumbles against your lips. âNot without you. Been miserable without you.â
And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.
You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.
Speaking of.
The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one youâd picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.
âBeautiful,â you whisper.
âJust like you.â
You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.
âYou left.â
âI did.â Fingertips press lightly against your waist like heâs afraid you might be the one to disappear now. âIâm sorry.â
âJungkook, ifâŠâ You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. âIf we do this and you leave againââ
âIf we do this, I'm not going anywhere,â he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. âJust wanna be here with you. Just want you.â
And itâs all you need to hear.
You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso.Â
âGod, I missed this,â he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.
Youâd agreeâecho the sentiment that your body has been aching for thisâif not for the fact that youâre too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.
But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. âNo,â he rumbles. âLet me.â
Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes
âFucking gorgeous,â he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like itâs involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, heâs immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.
âBaby, this wet for me already?â A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. âHell, I could justââ
A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.
âUse your words, love; you can do it.â He says it as if his fingers arenât currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if heâs not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.
You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. âInsane,â you pant. âI said youâre fucking insane.â
âOnly for you,â he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way heâs working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.
Like you said. Insane.
He gives you a moment to catch your breath until youâre the one whoâs getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxersâhis length springing free to slap against his smooth stomachâyouâre hit with an untimely realization.
âJungkook, I donât have condoms.â
He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.
âFuck, me neither.â
You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.
âIâm still on birth control,â you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like heâs not sure he heard you right. But you donât repeat yourself, only hold his stare until heâs tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.
âI told you. Thereâs been no one else.â His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that heâs telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you werenât comfortable, he wouldnât push.
So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.
âYou?â
It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?
You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. âNo one else for me either.â
This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, âWhat about the guy downstairs?â
A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.
âWe made out once,â you admit, hating that youâre even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. âBut nothing else happened.â
âGood,â he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like heâs trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, heâs devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.
âRide me, baby.â
Youâre quick to line him upâdesperate, at this point, to have him inside of youâand begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. Heâs always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.
âYesss,â he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. âYouâre doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.â
You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, youâd put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.
He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the roomâthe whole city probably able to hear you right now.
You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkookâs own muscled thighs.
âItâs okay; Iâve got you.â He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.
Hard.
Youâre practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. Itâs all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.
It builds and builds until it breaks and youâre falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.
The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this eveningâtension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.
âI missed this,â you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.
âI missed you.â
You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. âWhere do we go from here?â
He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. âTake it day by day?â he suggests. âWe donât need to rush into anything if you donât want to.â
âMm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.â
A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. âAnd what about right now?â
âNow?â you ask. âDo you remember the way to the bedroom? OrâŠâ You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.
âOr.â He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. âOr sounds good.â
a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3
#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#bts x reader#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook imagines#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#bts angst#bts smut#bts fluff#bts fic#bts fanfic
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader
Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader
Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.
Word Count: 4.7 k
Warnings:
âGet back âere,â Lt. Simon Rileyâs deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where youâre off to, but by the direction youâre headed, it looks like youâre going straight towards the parking lot.Â
God dammit, this isnât how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.
A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupidâŠlike put your fist through a wall.
Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. Itâs no use, youâre gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled âfuckinâ hellâ in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time.Â
The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driverâs seat and buckle up; at least heâs decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit.Â
âGod dammit,â you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. âWhat the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?â
The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like theyâve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava.Â
Those eyes thoughâŠif looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.
âLieutenant,â one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, ây-your good to go.â
Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck thereâs only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, heâs confident that heâll catch up to you quick enough.
And then what? Simonâs anger is still blinding and he hasnât thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he canât just leave it like this and until you listen, he isnât going to give up.
Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like youâre driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simonâs harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.
He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didnât even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.
If only he knew the truth⊠whatever, it didnât matter now. You wouldnât be kept on a short leash by someone who didnât care.
You arenât sure how many miles youâve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now youâre sure; you know that bike and its rider.Â
How the fuck did he get behind you so fast?Â
Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you arenât on base and donât feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, thatâs what he deserves. Who knows, maybe heâll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that heâll give up when he has his mind set on something.Â
A few more miles and again he hits his lights; heâs not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isnât done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.
âReally, Simon? I donât want to fucking do this,â you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate youâre ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. Itâs almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.
Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to âtalkâ.Â
Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.
âWhat?â you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; youâre gonna make him come to you.Â
He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. âI said I wasnât going to talk about this anymore,â you continue on in the same heated tone, âso why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?â
âThatâs really how youâre gonna talk ta me?â he questions, matching your energy. âIâm still your fuckinâ lieutenant.âÂ
âThatâs how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they donât belong and then get mad when they donât like what they find,â you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You donât want him to know just how much heâs gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway.Â
He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. âOh, is that right?â he growls. âIâm tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?â
âDonât turn this back on me,â you press the matter. âI didnât do anything; youâre the one that has the problem. I just donât understand why you canât let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?âÂ
Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. âBetter watch it, luv.â
Youâre done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. âI will say it again, so maybe youâll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.â
âI think I do,â he returns.
âWhy? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesnât give you the right to act like weâre a couple,â you say heatedly. âWe agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now youâre acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?â
Your blood is boiling now because heâs doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isnât even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you arenât about to tell him that. He doesnât need to know because it shouldnât matter; youâre not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors.Â
This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you donât.Â
Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you canât have it.
âYa couldnât even tell me ya were screwinâ around?â he says, stepping up in intimidation. âYa donât think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?â
His entitlement feels like an attack and you wonât stand for it. âYou canât keep me on a leash like this when you donât even have a claim,â you bark, getting in his face. âYou might be my lieutenant, but what Iâm doing or not doing outside of military business isnât for you to worry about. And once again, we arenât together. Stop acting jealous.â
He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. âNeva said I was fuckinâ jealous,â he starts, but you promptly cut him off.
âYeah, right,â the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. âAnd the fact you canât fucking drop it is because youâre concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I donât care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.â
You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your headâŠbecause you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him.Â
Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.
Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you canât get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so itâs still in your voice.
There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. âHandlinâ something,â he says with a growl.
âYou clearly canât handle anything, Simon,â you comment with an agitated chuckle.Â
âShut it,â he demands in a harsh bark. âYa think ya know every fuckinâ thing, donât ya?â He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. âYa canât even see whatâs right in front âa your face.â
Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell heâs trying to say, but heâs gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end.Â
âSince Iâm so fucking stupid, why donât you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.â
Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs.Â
There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath. Â
All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouthâs connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room.Â
âYa need ta understand. Canât just have ya a few fuckinâ times and thaâs it. Canât get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself anâ I donât share whatâs mine. Anâ youâre mine, luv,â he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. âYa hear that? Mine.â
He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he canât get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. âCanât âave anyone else tryinâ to get at whatâs mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, Iâm gonna fuckinâ kill âim.â
Admission finished Simonâs eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get.Â
All that pent up desire being released onto you.
His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you.Â
As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. âUnless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side âa this buildinâ, get to tha car,â he growls, his voice husky. âNow.â
It only takes a few seconds before youâre both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simonâs jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.
âNeed it,â he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. âNeed ta be inside ya right this second.â
âYes, Simon,â you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.
âYa said I didnât âave a claim, well Iâm âere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,â he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. âSay youâre mine.â
You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. âIâm yours Simon,â you say, but the measured nature of his strokes donât stop.
âAgain.â
The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. âIâm all yours Simon!â you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same.Â
His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. âI. Said. Again.âÂ
You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. âSimon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I canât fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there wonât ever be anyone else.â
The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. âLook who canât handle things now,â he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. â Now, arch ya back a little more for me.â His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled. Â
âFuck sweetheart, jusâ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,â he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. âNo one can âave ya like this âcept me. Understand?â
You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. âNo one.â Your repeated words are a plea.
Simonâs heart races at how you say it. âYouâre nevaâ gonna stray, are ya?â
âNo,â you whine.
âGood fuckinâ girl.âÂ
With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesnât give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesnât pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.
âYa think anyone else can make ya feel like this?â he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. âSome manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?â
Thereâs no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isnât enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.
âYa think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till youâre vibratinâ and your toes curl?â
How the fuck did he remember all that? Youâve only been together a few times and yet itâs obvious that heâs paid so much attention to detail that heâs memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.
âYa think I wouldnât care ta know what ya like?â he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. âHow else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckinâ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckinâ thing in that pretty head âa yours.â
As if youâd ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isnât him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didnât even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you canât get enough of; no one else can ever come close.Â
The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.
âCanât forget about these beauties,â he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth.Â
Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until itâs stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesnât even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants.Â
Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It wonât be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but thatâs not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of youâŠand fill you full.Â
âDonât pull out,â you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts.Â
Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.âWhat did ya say?âÂ
You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he canât escape. âDonât you dare pull out,â you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. âGod, Iâm so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.â
Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles.Â
âThen youâre gonna get what ya fuckinâ want, sweetheart,â he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. âYouâre gonna take every last goddamn ounce.â
âRight there,â you moan, the pressure euphoric, âstay right there.â
He grunts. âCome for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckinâ clench.â
He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.
God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane.Â
âMy pretty girlâŠâ he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy⊠âmineâŠâ he repeats, nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls⊠âall fuckinâ mine.â
Thatâs it, he canât take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high.Â
Such a masterpiece of flesh.
Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess heâs made; he canât stop staring at it as if heâs in a trance.Â
A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.
âThaâs a sight that could do me in,â he breathes. âYa did so good for me, sweetheart.â
He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; youâve been here long enough that if you donât get out of here soon itâs gonna draw unwanted attention.Â
âNow get your ass back ta base and make it quick,â he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, âI want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. Iâm not done with ya just yet.â
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod mw2#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon smut#simon#ghost simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost smut#ghost#ghost cod smut#cod ghost#cod
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ghostface!ellie x reader
minors & men dni , fingering, cunnilingus, knife play, nipple play, overstim
it's a chilly october night, the leaves are still vibrant with autumn hues outside your window. a crisp breeze weaves through the trees outside, sending a gentle rustle through the branches. the faint scent of vanilla, pumpkin spice and cinnamon hangs in the air inside your home, wrapping all the furniture and the trinkets like a shroud. youâre sitting on your sage couch, wrapped in a cozy crocheted sweater, wearing loose shorts and leg warmers to keep your feet warm on the cold tiles beneath you. your parents are away for a few days at your grandma's, with her health getting worse, it's been hard for her to take care of herself.
the glow from the TV feels distant now, the reporterâs voice filling the otherwise silent room. itâs the same grim news cycle: more bodies found, more gruesome and grotesque details of the dead bodies that should make your skin crawl and erupt with goosebumps. but honestly? youâre just tired. tired of the stories and the police coming up empty.
two of your friends from your friend group are dead, and what'd they have in common? you dated them both at some point. this detail shouldn't probably be necessary or even worth dwelling on, but considering how almost everyone who's either flirted with you or gone on a date with you has no doubt ended up deadâkilled by the infamous ghostface himself.
yes, a him. that's what mostly everyone believes but you're somehow sure it's not a man. the way ghostface toys with his victims, the blackmail and emotional mind gamesâit all feels too calculated, too clever to be the work of a man. not that you think men are stupid, but something about this whole situation just feels... off.
the sound of the doorbell jolts you out of your thoughts. ellie, your best friend, is supposed to be here any minute. she's been your rock through the whole ghostface ordeal. and you think you might be catching feelings for her. her stupid puns and that goofy smile plastered on her face whenever she'd talk about space, dinosaurs, comic books or anything that interested her really, got to you at some point.
with a sigh, you push yourself off the cozy couch, and shuffle over to the door. but when you swing it open, what should've been ellie on the other side is just empty air. thatâs strange. you step outside, scanning the porch and the yard, half-expecting to see some kids laughing at their ding-dong ditch prank. instead, youâre hit with a chill as a dark figure catches your eye. a ghostface mask. your heart drops. but before you can even process what you just saw, it vanishes into the shadows.
you stumble back inside and lock the door, but then you hear itâa crash from the kitchen. a china dish smashing to the floor. fuck, what if this is it? what if youâre ghostfaceâs next target? with a tentative breath, you step inside the kitchen, holding a lamp, ready to strike. except, it's not ghostface, it's just ellie, standing there with a sheepish smile on her face.
"fuck- i thought you were-" you start, your voice trailing off as the memory of the figure outside flashes in your mind.
"i'm sorry, jus' thought i'd surprise you and come in through the back." she explains, motioning toward the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar. "you should seriously learn to lock your doors."
her gaze then drops to the shards scattered across the kitchen floor, the delicate china dish now a jumbled mess of white and pastel blooms. "sorry 'bout that." she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck.
you let out a breath, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. lowering the lamp, you speak. "next time, just ring the doorbell?â
ellie grins. "yeah, sorry."
"whatever, just help me clean this mess." you motion to the mess on the white and black kitchen tiles.
"yep."
you can't stay mad at ellie and it's not the first time she's done something stupid like this.
đŻđ
after what felt like an eternity of cleaning up the mess, you and ellie finally collapse onto your bed, grateful for the distraction of a movie. the small TV on the cabinet across the room flickers to life, and the eerie sounds of SAW II fill the space. you can feel ellieâs presence beside youâsheâs sitting awfully close, her warmth radiating against your side. you steal a glance at her, and to your surprise, you catch her gulping, almost instinctively, not once, but three times already. though you're not sure if it's because of the proximity or the gore-y scenes displaying on the screen.
ânot a fan of gore movies?â
she chuckles nervously, her eyes glued to the screen. ânot exactly in love with the idea of people torturing each other.â  a hint of laughter in her voice, but you can sense something else underneath. something you pass off as anxiety.
you turn your attention back to the movie, but itâs hard to concentrate when you can feel the heat radiating from her. the scene on the screen darkens, and the tension builds as the characters navigate their terrifying predicament. you canât help but steal another glance at ellie, whoâs now looking directly at you.
the characters on the screen scream in despair, but you hardly register it. instead, your focus is drawn to the way her tongue glides over her plump pink lips. and god you want to kiss her badly, to taste the sweetness of her lips.
you don't miss the way her eyes dart down to your lips or the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. you take a breath, steeling yourself, and decide to be bold. you lean in slightly, heart pounding as you gauge her reaction. the air is tense, and you can see her breath hitch, taking that as an invitation, you close the gap.
her lips are slightly cracked but surprisingly soft. she makes a noise against your lips, hands gliding up to rest against your hips, but then they slowly start to wander. under your sweater, from your hips to your waist. ellie canât help how warm her hands feel against your skin, how smooth, thereâs not even callouses on them like hers. the kiss is a bit hungry and impatient, her tongue licking the seam of your lips. your hands move from your lap to cup her face as you part your lips.
the unexpected warmth of her tongue against your cheek sends a shiver down your spine, silencing the whirlwind of thoughts that had been racing through your mind. itâs a ticklish sensation, one that catches you off guard. you let out a small gasp which is muffled into her mouth. ellie continues to explore, her tongue tracing the soft contours of your cheek as if sheâs savoring every little bump and curve. thereâs a clumsiness to it, an awkwardness that feels endearing rather than off-putting.
when you pull away, a delicate string of saliva connects your lips. your cheeks heat up as you notice the drool glistening in her chin, a sight that is enough to make your panties wet. you lean in and lick the drool off of her, and you can feel her tense up, her hands on your waist squeezing gently. the only source of light is from the TV, and it casts shadows over both of your bodies, the screen and the voices of the characters now completely forgotten. you can feel her hands move from your waist and sheâs suddenly cupping your breasts over your bra.
âis this okay?â her thumb traces circles over the soft mounds, staring at you for an answer.
you nod in return and help her remove your sweater and your bra, tossing it somewhere in the darkness. her gaze flicks down to your breasts and for awhile, she just stares. and then a quiet curse follows. her hands move to knead your breasts, watching the skin closely. then, she takes a nipple between her fingers and gently pinches it, watching your every reaction. her mouth latches onto your other breast, her tongue darting out to swirl around it and suck the hardened nub as she pleases, the soft symphony of your quiet noises echoing in the night.
you arch your back, pushing your breasts further into her mouth. she alternates between both of them, giving them both equal attention. her mouth goes dry and she has to pull away with a pop, her green eyes searching your own.
âi wanna feel you.â
her breath hitches and before she knows it, your hands are on the waist band of her jeans, fingers looping into her brown belt. her eyes darken with desire as she looks at you.
âyeah, baby?â she exhales.
the nickname makes your cunt tighten around nothing and you're hastily unbuckling her belt and tossing it away. your fingers work to unbutton her jeans and you slip a hand inside. she lets out a gentle groan as your teeth bite into the flesh of her neck. you leave a series of bruising kisses in their wake as your palm comes into contact with her boxers. to your surprise, she's soaking wet. you almost want to tease her but your desire prevails over it and you're slipping your fingers into her boxers, tracing her slick folds. she's making the prettiest noises too, already falling apart under your touch. but little did you know, she's spent years dreaming of this moment. paintings and drawings of you hidden under her bed, along with the candid pictures that she oh so eagerly waits to get off to every night.
"say you want me."
her breathing is unsteady as she opens her mouth to speak. "fuck." she grunts softly and leans her head into your shoulder. "i want you, baby. please."
her pathetic begging and whines are enough for you to give in, her cunt throbbing as your fingers rub her slick along it. it greedily sucks in your digit as you slowly add it. she feels ecstatic because this isn't a dream anymore, it's real. you add another digit, eliciting a pornographic moan from her. it isn't long until your fingers are curling around her g-spot and her walls are squelching around them.
""m close..s-so close."
"i know. just cum for me, yeah?" you coo into her ear before nipping at the skin just below her ear. and she does exactly that, letting out a strangled sob as her body gets the release she's been chasing for. you take your fingers out of her boxers and suck them clean. ellie still has her eyes shut and her head against your shoulder but she can hear the way your mouth wraps around your fingers and sucks her juices off. she's pulling away and looking at you.
and then, she's guiding you down to lay on the bed, lifting your hips up to remove your shorts until you're splayed in just your cotton panties and leg warmers in front of her. she almost moans at the sight.
"you're so-" she starts, but cuts herself off. leaning down to hover over you and planting a kiss on your temple, on your cheek and one on your collarbone. one of her hands starts rubbing the inside of your thigh as she leans in and kisses you, sloppily. her hand comes to rub your clothed cunt and you feel her muffled moan inside your mouth, as you swallow the noise. she pulls back to look down at you.
"look how wet." she smirks and you almost regret not teasing her about her own drenched underwear.
you can only whimper and lift your hips up in return as her hands hook under the waistband of your underwear and pull it off of you.
"god, so gorgeous and so wet....all for me." she murmurs, more to herself than you. her pupils are blown wide, lips parted as she moves your legs up and pushes them apart. your hands find purchase on her ass beneath her flannel as she mouths at the skin of your neck like it's her hobby. as you squeeze her jeans-clothed ass, you swear you feel an outline of something resembling a... knife. in her back pocket. you take the object out and it's indeed a knife. ellie was in a daze to notice or feel what you were doingâ to busy enjoying your skin after only having imagined what it must have felt like in her dreams. your voice, however, causes her to look up from your neck. you dangle the knife in front of her.
"..why do you have a knife?"
her eyes widen a fraction before she smirks and takes the knife from you. "protection. why else?" she answers like you were dumb to even ask the question in the first place. âdonât wanna risk getting killed with ghostface on the loose.â
a pause. "but...it could come handy for other things." she glides the knife down your clavicle to your breasts, the hitching of your breath only serving to encourage her. she presses it down against one of your nipples before moving it lowerâ where you're aching for her the most.
the cold blade presses against your puffy clit and you moan loudly. "ellie..."
"shh." she coos, grinning down at you, almost sinisterly. she pushes it further against the bundle of nerves, making you whimper. "i need-" she cuts you off by lining the knife along your delicate entrance, you let out a cry and your eyes widen in fear and shock. she seems to notice it and pulls the knife away, but not before gliding it up and down your folds.
"i'm not gonna hurt you, baby." the words roll of her tongue like honey and you feel bad for fearing her in the first place. she places the knife beside you on the sheets and moves to place herself in between your legs. a couple of kisses to your clit before she's greedily licking at your pussy. tongue moving at a relentless pace against your clit as her hands come up to grope your tits. moans fall out of your lips like a prayer and she pushes her tongue inside your cunt before pulling back and lapping away at your juices. you're awfully close and she knows it, she can sense it by the way you're arching your back and gripping the sheets, your knuckles almost white.
"cum on my face, pretty girl." her words vibrate against your clit, causing you to moan out her name.
that elicits a moan from ellie, herself. something stirs in her, hearing you moan her name out like that. and she inserts two fingers into your sopping cunt. curling them graciously against your g-spot, hitting it over and over again as her mouth does the same to your clit.
"ellie..i can't..fuck-" your final cry of pleasure, reverberates through her body. she removes her fingers but keeps lapping at your pussy even after you cum. your weak cries do nothing to pull her away. her grip on your thighs tighten and she pushes them apart from closing. you squirm and squeak due to the overstimulation, nudging her away with all your force, but it's too weak. she doesn't seem too keen on stopping, a hand pushing down on your stomach to stop you from squirming.
"s-stop." it isn't until that word comes out of your mouth that she stops and pulls away to look at your wrecked form. cheeks flush and hair tousled. you don't know how much it affects her. you never do.
"sorry, got too carried away." she murmurs. but she's anything but sorry. after helping you lay your head down on the pillow, she pulls the covers up your body. she can tell she's tired you out by the way your eyes are half lidded and your limbs look sore. she soothes you by wrapping her arms around you, intertwining your hands, and placing a kiss on your forehead. eventually, you drift asleep.
the longer she looks at you, the world outside fades further into obscurity. you, who's sleeping blissfully, completely unaware of the fact that the knife that was pressing against your clit a few minutes ago was the same knife that she used to brutally stab and dismember the body of a classmate who dared flirt with you. you, who's probably having sweet dreams while she has to go and take care of the unconscious body of the guy who rang your doorbell this very night.
this is my first time writing smut or anything close to a fan fic!! so if you see any mistakes js ignore it :3
#ellie williams#lesbian#ellie williams smut#tlou#ellie tlou#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x female reader#ghostface#i have my physics exam tmr and im writing smut in the middle of the night#definitely failing my exam#smut đ â§â àŽ
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help! we're getting married!? â k. tsukishima
cws; gn!reader, swearing, kissing, sleeping in one bed NO SUS possible ooc and not proofread.
wc; 1227
"do you want to get married?"
you blink, thinking you may have misheard.
"do you want to get married?" he repeats. "to me."
what. you stare at the plate in your hands, dumbfounded. in no way are you prepared for this â today's just a normal saturday night. you're bent over the dishwasher, in your PJs and your old frayed slides. your sweaty hair sticks to your damp forehead, and your hands are covered in grease and soap.
tsukishima is at the table, doing taxes. he's not dressed for any particular occasion, in a loose white button-up and dark coloured slacks. neither of you are in any position for a proposal; his lunch is still half-eaten on the table, and you're both tired and sweaty, and neither of you are dressed well enough for this. but most importantly, you arent even dating!
he pushes his glasses up with a finger, staring at you with his usual lack of emotion. "do you have any hearing problems i haven't heard about?"
"no? are you joking?"
'do i look like i'm joking?" he retorts.
"no, butâ"
"there you go, got your answer, didn't you?"
"we arent even dating!" you protest
"yeah?" he says, leaning back and stretching his arms out. "we don't need to."
"fuck's that supposed to mean?" you demand. you're washing your hands now, back turned to him. even though his steps were light, unheard over the sound of splashing water, you still noticed his shadow looming over you. you turn around, exasperated. "what?"
"just give it some thought," he says, and he sounds normal, but there's a weird tension in the air. you know he's aware of it, though, because he pushes his glasses up even though they don't need to be, and runs his hands through his hair, rolling his shoulders back.
it's half past one in the morning, and you stare blankly at the television, feet on kei's lap. he's on the other side of the couch, scrolling on his phone with one hand. the other hand rests on your ankle, thumb brushing the skin gently every now and then. the question hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, untilâ
"yes," you blurt.
"hmm?" he looks up, putting his phone down. "what was that?"
"yes, i'll marry you." it's stupid, you're stupid to be saying yes to something as life-changing as this, just because of a stupid years-long crush-infatuation thing that you've harboured for him until now.
he nods, businesslike, and you swear you can see the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. "okay."
"why, though?" you ask. "is it like a marriage of convenience? i mean, it's not like you're into me or anything, are you?"
he rips his eyes away from yours abruptly, looking away. but the blush that spreads across his face like wildfire gives you the answer you needed â although it's definitely not what you'd expected. and suddenly you realise that kei tsukishima doesn't remember his other friends' coffee orders or let them put their feet on his lap. he doesn't pin their contacts to the top of the list, doesn't carry them to bed, doesn't pack lunch for them like he does for you. he isn't the kind of guy to show physical affection to anyone â yet you still recall the gentle, loving brush of his knuckles against your cheekbone just a few nights ago, when he'd settled you into your bed. speaking of beds, he doesn't let his other friends sleep in his bed, and he definitely doesn't hold them either, the way he holds you. a small spark of hope rises within you; with it, the flame of attraction and want that you've religiously kept suppressed all these years comes back to life.
"wait, do you?" your voice is half-serious, half-teasing as you yank your legs away from his lap, getting up to advance upon him on your knees instead. except, just before you reach him, you stumble and fall.
kei catches you smoothly, transferring you onto his lap with an effortless grace that is befitting of a 6'5" middle blocker. meanwhile, your hands shoot out to clutch at his shoulders.
"careful," he murmurs, steadying you, hands on your hips. his face â as usual â betrays no emotion, but his leg bounces up and down anxiously beneath you, and his thumb works feverish circles into your hipbone. "you'll hurt yourself."
although grateful for his concern, you acknowledge it with barely a nod, focused on the question you'd asked before. "do you?"
his lips press into a thin line, brows furrowing ever so slightly. "and if i do? what then, will you hate me?"
you laugh, a sound filled with euphoria, joy. "of course not, silly!"
realisation dawns upon his face. "then do you...?"
you nod as he trails off. he doesn't have to finish what he's saying got you to understand; the two of you have always been good at this mutual-understanding-nonverbal-communication thing, after all. he readjusts you on his lap, and you daringly let your hands fall off his shoulders in favour of fisting the material of his shirt instead. "what do you propose we do?"
"i think i have an idea," he replies easily, cradling your face with one large hand. the tips of his fingers thread into your hair, and he angles your head upwards. you can see the lightest smattering of pink dusting his cheeks, and he swallows harshly as your eyes meet his. "that is, if you'll let me."
"yeah?" you ask.
"yeah," he replies hoarsely.
you're not sure who initiates, but a second later, you're kissing him fervently â you're kissing kei tsukishima, and he's reciprocating, too. you can smell the mint from the toothpaste he's used for about ten years now â it's oddly nostalgic compared to the unfamiliar territory you're currently treading with him. he lets you take the lead, leaning back lazily, and only pauses to push his fogged up glasses to his forehead. when you pull away, he's grinning down at you lazily.
"yeah," he repeats.
you swat at his chest, flushing, and he catches your wrists, pulling you in so you collapse into his arms, and holy fuck, the two of you fit together perfectly. "so is that a yes?"
"yeahâ" you cut yourself off with a huge yawn, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. there's a different kind of affection in his eyes now as he takes in the vision of you melted into him, and he takes a moment to immortalise it in his brain. "sleepy?"
you nod, eyelids heavy, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. "thank you. go to sleep, i'll take you to bed."
"whose bed?" you snicker. "yours?"
it all backfires when you wake up much later than intended, kei still wrapped around you. all you'd wanted to do was make fun of him â but now he says he can't sleep without you ever again.
"let me go!"
"it's your fuckin' fault, go back to sleep."
BONUS BECAUSE ILYGS
"so what you mean to say is, you were secretly dating?" asks yamaguchi.
"no, the fuck?"
"but you were dating, right?"
"no, we weren't."
"how does that even work?"
"don't know, don't care. we're married and that's all that matters."
maybe he's hallucinating when he sees tsukishima on the phone, a huge, dopey smile on his face as he talks.
fuckin hate my english teacher she dont know what english is so i wrote this in my english class and answered all her questions too without paying attention cuz im cool like that. also i have a general taglist now so send an ask if you want in
also tysm @mitskicain s parents for the inspiration âïžđ
@akaakeis + @smiithys
#dividers by enchanthings#⏠mine mine mine !#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu tsukishima#tsukishima fluff#tsukki x reader#tsukishima kei x you#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima kei x gn reader#kei tsukishima#kei tsukishima x reader#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyu x reader#haikyu#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x gn!reader#hq fanfic#hq imagines#hq x reader#hq#I LOVE HIM SM YOUR HONOR#suckyshima my bb
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đđ đđđ„đđđđ âđđđ
Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.1k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Profanities, Mentions of wounds Summary: There was a connection between you and Sylus that went beyond the typical boss & his right-hand woman dynamic. When you finally had enough of his recent behaviour since his return, you decided it was time to quit.
[á°.á MASTERLIST]
âWe agree to your terms, and as soon as we finish the down payment, we expect to see the firearmsââ
Before you could even finish, the heavy double doors swung open with a crash. Sylus strode in, a dark aura clinging to him, and you knew that nothing good would come out of it.
âThe deal is off.â
You gasped. âYou canât be fucking serious.â
âMs. Y/N, I thought you said you could handle this deal solo?â Marcelâthat cunning eel of a manâdrawled lazily. âLooks like Mr. Sylus here still doubts your ability, even after all this time.â
On any other day, you would have knocked the smug grin off Marcelâs face. But your attention was fixed on your boss, Sylus, whose expression was a cold, impenetrable mask of indifference.
âIâve worked on this for months. Alone. When you were gone chasing shadows,â you hissed, âYou have no right to dictate me.â
Crimson eyes met your gaze with a fire of his own as he stepped closer. âAnd do I need to remind you whoâs the leader of this organisation?â
How dare he!
It took a while for the others in the N109 Zone to stop belittling you, to finally trust you as Onychinusâs indispensable weapon who could hold her own ground, even entrusted to run the organisation in his absence.
And he knew this.
âI donât meddle in your affairs, so stay out of mine.â
He exactly knew what, or who, you were talking about.
Somehow, this conversation was no longer about the deal; it was about something else that had been creating a rift between you both.
âYou donât understandââ
âYou have no idea what I understand!â you snapped, jabbing a finger at his firm chest.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Luke entering the room to usher Marcel out.
âIf youâre looking for a new job, my organisation is always open for a pretty little thing, buttercup.â He threw a mischievous wink your way.
The man was clearly not uncomfortable with the commotion; it was satisfying to see Onychinus crumbling before his own eyes.
Kieran cautiously stepped forward. âBoss, Y/N, letâs take a momentââ
âYou think I wouldn't find out about your little escapade with âMiss Hunterâ?â
That struck a nerve; Sylusâs eyes narrowed.Â
âWhat?â you continued, your tone dripping with sarcasm, âMephisto accidentally charged your card with millions just to buy every single protocore in the auction?â
Any heartfelt emotion you held for him was swallowed by fury and disappointment that had been building for some time. This was the last straw, a volcano ready to erupt.
âIâve warned you before, Sylus.â
Ever since he came back from doing who knew what, he had been distracted. Physically, he was thereâbut he wasn't present.
Conversations that once flowed easily between you were now peppered by half-hearted responses.
As a last resort, you decided to prepare dinner for him and the twins that one night, something you periodically did when the mood struck, in the hopes of getting him to come around.
Luke and Kieran were happily munching on the lasagna and sipping wine from Sylusâs favourite bottle, their lively chatter filling up the dining room.
But the man who was supposed to be the centre of it all took only a single bite before abandoning it for his phone.
âSylus, could you please put your phone down and enjoy the dinner?â
The twins froze, eyes flickering between the two of you, sensing the impending storm.
Yet Sylus didnât even acknowledge you, his attention firmly fixed on the screen in his hand. Somehow, it was more important than the company around him.
âSylusââ
âCan you get off my back for once?â Red eyes snapped to yours, flashing with irritation.
âYou are losing me,â you repeated the words you had uttered that night. The tremble in your voice was a blend of rage and a deeper, more vulnerable feeling.
Sylus's eyes flashed, revealing the first hint of emotion that you recognisedâa wounded look, perhaps, or something else that you didnât dare to think about.
Kieran, determined to defuse the tension, squared his shoulders. âWe all should take a breather and approach this with clearer heads.â
Eyes still fixed on your bossâs handsome face, the words came out with unwavering finality, âI quit.â
Ripping the brooch from where it rested just above your heart, you hurled it with such force that it bounced off his chest before skidding across the floor.
The sharp, unmistakable crack echoed throughout the silent room.
Sylus's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. âFine.â
And that was it. There were no apologies, not even a 'thank you' for your dedication to Onychinus all this time.
âPlease, don't do this. We need you,â Kieranâs voice had a note of desperation in it.
A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. âYour boss has made it perfectly clear that he doesnât need me anymore. Apparently, he has more pressing matters than ensuring the organisation's interest.â
Sylus crossed his arms, his voice cutting like a cold knife. âIf you're going to leave, then leave. We don't have time for theatrics.â
With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.
Luke, having just returned from escorting Marcel out, caught sight of the unexpectedly angry tears in your eyes and called out your name as you rushed down the hallway.
What you didnât expect from quitting was the depth of void it created in your life. You missed the twinsâ oddball humour and even found yourself longing for Mephistoâs often irritating caws.
It felt strange not to see the black bird outside of your bedroom window or atop the lamppost, as it normally would.
Despite the financial cushion provided by Onychinusâs paycheck, restlessness drove you back to the N109 Zone before long.
âThought that weâd never see you again, missy.â
The familiar surroundings of Elysium provided a soothing balm to the loneliness gnawing inside youâthe rich scent of aged booze mingled with the sound of rolling dice filling your senses.
âYouâre not the only one surprised,â you muttered lowly, sitting down on one of the stools.
âGuess you are more used to staying here than Linkon now,â the young woman behind the bar chuckled. âMany might see it as a slum, but the N109 Zone has its charm.â
During Sylusâs absence, you had called the base as a second home. Staying there made it easier for you to manage the daily operation, sparing you the hassle of travelling back and forth to Linkon.
âWhat would you like to drink? Itâs on the house.â Before you could answer, the woman beat you to it. âRum and lemonade?â
A sudden feeling of yearning washed over you. It was Sylus who had first introduced you to this concoction right here, you had even questioned his taste at the time, but it had since become one of your favourite drinks.
You gulped the emotion down. âYes, please.â
She sent you a sympathetic smile, obviously understanding what crossed your mind.
The burn of the rum started to warm your body as the second glass went down easily. Each sip brought back memories of standing side by side in battles and conversations shared in quieter moments, a foolish longing that settled deep within your chest.Â
As you set it aside, you felt someone slid on the vacant stool beside you, encroaching on your personal space.
âWhatâs a pretty girl doing here all alone?â
âLeave me alone.â You didnât even look at his direction.
Funnily enough, though you normally no longer felt the weight of the broochâa symbol of your affiliation with Sylus and Onychinusâyou now felt its absence vividly, like a phantom heaviness above your left breast.
With it, no one ever truly dared to come near you, wary of crossing paths with Sylus.
Without it, however, meant you were no longer under Sylusâs protection.
The man sidled closer, clearly not taking the hint. âStill playing hard to get even without Sylus behind you? You should have seen him dragged out of the raid like a ragdoll by his pair of thugs. It was pathetic.â
Your heart stuttered, finally looking at the man beside you. âWhat did you say?âÂ
Sylus, hurt? It was unthinkable. You had seen first-hand how his wound healed quickly.
âHeh, you really donât know, do you?â His smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. âThe idiot went to finish Marcel off by himself last night. Imagine taking down dozens of Marcelâs men alone, with all their weapons.â
He daringly placed a hand on your thigh, fingers digging in. âSo bitch, youâd better get off your damn high horse and listen. Without Sylus, youâre just another pretty face.â
In a quick manoeuvre, you slammed his head on the bar. His painful howl was cut short as you drew your concealed gun, the barrel pressed firmly against the back of his skull. âTouch me one more time and Iâll paint this bar with your brains.â
The barkeeper approached, her expression impassive as she took in the sight of your gun pressing against the man's head. However, when she noticed the colour draining from your face, a look of surprise crossed her features.
âYou didnât know?â she asked, her tone softer than you expected. âI thought that was the reason you came back here.â
Ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons, you stormed out of the bar, the weight of fear heavy on your shoulders.
The city's familiar streets blurred past as you made your way to the base, and you thought you heard familiar caws in the distance.
You didn't spare a second thought as the electronic lock still buzzed with recognision when your palm and iris scans were verified. The reinforced doors opened, granting you access just like usual.
Luke and Kieran met you in the hallway, no doubt alerted to your arrival. Whether by Mephisto or the security alert, you werenât sure.
Even with their masks on, their surprised body language was unmistakable.
âHow did you find out? Boss made sure that none of us tips you off,â Luke asked.
âItâs true?â you demanded, your voice was tight with anxiety. âAbout Sylus?â
The twins exchanged silent glances. âHeâs in his quarters,â Kieran said slowly. âBut be warned, he is in a foul mood.â
As you moved swiftly down the familiar corridors, your heart pounded in your chest. The smell of antiseptic hit your senses as you slid the door open, revealing the dimly lit room.
Sylus was seated on the edge of the bed, his back to you as he changed his bandages. âI told you guys to leave me alone. Iâm fine,â his voice gruff.
You took a steadying breath. âSylus.â
His silhouette tensed, and the set of his shoulders turned rigid. Slowly, he turned to look at you.
âWhat are you doing here?â His voice was rough.
âIââ you started, but the words caught in your throat. The sight of bandages covering his injuries made it difficult to articulate your thoughts. âWhy did you go after Marcel?â
âThis isnât a place for someone like you right now.â
That comment was odd, but you dismissed it as you crossed the room, closing the gap between you. Up close, you could see the bruises and wounds peppering his bodyâdark, angry splotches that marred his skin, evidence of the brutality inflicted by Marcelâs men.
While the healing process was slower than usual, it was still significantly faster than it would be for an ordinary person.
You had been working with him for quite some time yet you had never before seen him in such a state.
âIâm fine,â he repeated, catching your concerned gaze.
âYou donât look fine,â you said firmly. âIâm not going anywhere until you explain what happened.â
Sylus shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he rested his back on the headboard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, âMarcel was the one behind the bombing of the hunterâs grandmaâs house.â
As much as you felt sorry for the UNICORN hunter, you couldnât understand why he would put his life on the line for her.
Was it because of the connection they had with the Aether Core? Or was it something else?
Unconsciously, your steps faltered backwards. The anxiety for his well-being took a backseat as the grip of jealousy clawed at you.
It was stupid to feel this way.
Suddenly, you felt rooted to the spot, your body freezing in place. The unexpected use of his Evol caught you off guard.Â
âYou came all the way here, so youâd better damn well listen to me before jumping to any conclusions.â
Even in his weakened state, he managed to pull you back to the edge of the bed and keep you seated there. He wasnât close enough to touch, but not so far that you couldnât see the fatigue etched into his features.
âI kept her around because she was useful. Marcel had been trying to frame Onychinus for the bombing.â His fists clenched, knuckles white. âBut that wasnât what set me off, that scumbag had been running his mouth about you, spreading lies of your incompetence, claiming that youâre nothing more than an empty shell.â
You looked at his injuries pointedly. âYou took on his entire army because he taunted me?â
He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. âDonât you see? I was the one feeding him that narrative. He had the front seat to everything that happened that day. Iâm the one who unravelled the respect you worked so hard to earn.â
Was that a hint of guilt you heard in his voice?
âHeâd been saying that youâd be better suited working in a whorehouse.â
Well, that explained the man's aggressiveness back at the bar, you thought.
âIâm not your responsibility anymore, you donât need to protect me.â
Sylus looked away. Despite his rough edges, there was a glint of raw, exposed emotion that he struggled to conceal.
âItâs not just about responsibility,â his voice low, âSome things... theyâre not as simple as just walking away.â
This was the Sylus you recognisedâthe same man who, in fleeting moments, had looked at you with an intensity or a softness that spoke of unfulfilled longing.
Everything had shifted since that one kiss, an impulsive act born from an evening of too much drink and unspoken feelings. A kiss that, in its haze, blurred the lines between what was accepted and what was desired.
Yet, every subtle brush of his hands, every act of ensuring your safety, was a quiet rebellion against the boundaries he had set from the startâthis was not a place where work and pleasure were meant to mingle.
âThat was the reason you called the deal off that day.â You fit the puzzles together.
He nodded. âI had a feeling that he was up to something.â
âAnd yet, I still donât understand why you had to go behind my back with the hunter. Thisââyou gestured to his injuries and the distance between youââcouldâve been prevented.â
You tried to mask the hurt. âI thought you trusted me.â
Sylus shifted closer, and even though you felt that his Evol no longer held you in place, you allowed him.
âIt wasnât about trust, not in the way you think,â his voice was softer now, âIf he found out you were involved, I couldnât risk him coming after you.â
âI donât need your protection as much as I need your honesty. And you were being a jerk.â
âI know and Iâm sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.â
He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning in closer, he cradled your jaw with a careful touch.
âThank you,â you whispered, your voice catching in your throat at the intensity in his eyes that he didnât try to mask any longer. âFor caring. But Iâd rather not see you get hurt again.â
âCanât promise,â he murmured, âI will always stand between you and anyone who dares to harm you.â
You could feel the warmth of his breath before his lips touched yours, moving in a gentle, unhurried rhythm.
He wanted to savour this moment, to truly taste you with a clear head, unclouded by any alcohol.
Though, before long, a more primal voice seemed to overtake him. The intensity of the kiss grew, fueled by the unfiltered emotions coursing between you.
It was a fierce, unrestrained need to claim you.
No longer feeling tender, his tongue urged your lips open with a determined persistence. Sylus groaned into your mouth as you parted easily, the need to taste you becoming more urgent.
As he took a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, your gaze locked with the searing flame in his eyes.
A sudden weight pressed against your neck, and you looked down, startled, to find a crow whose wings arched protectively around a red diamond pendant. It was similar to the brooch he had given you, but this was more than an accessory.
It was more personalâmore intimate.
âWill you do me the honour of becoming my partner again?â His voice was husky with emotion. âOnychinus needs you. I need you.â
Carefully, you pushed him down the bed, legs spreading daringly caging his form. âMaybe if you beg a little more, Iâll consider it.âÂ
Both his eyebrows arched in surprise, visibly taken aback by your boldness.
âBut, werenât we supposed to keep work and pleasure separate?â you teased.
A hint of a smirk curled at the edges of his lips. âIâm the boss. I make the rules. Besides, this is more than just a pleasure.â
His large palms settled on your hips, fingers splaying across the curve of your body with a possessive yet tender grip, pulling you closer.
âCan I start by begging you to kiss my wounds and make them better then?â
As he whispered his request, his masculine hands sneaked their way inside your clothes, fingers trailing a line of fire against your skin. Just as the moment heated up, a rustling noise came from outside the door.
The two of you paused, eyes narrowing with suspicion.Â
Suddenly, the door creaked open just a fraction. Before either of you could react, Luke and Kieran let out a startled yelp.
âOh no! Theyâre doing the hanky panky!â Luke whispered loudly, scandalised.
In a flurry of hurried movements, the twins slammed the door closed and bolted down the hallway, leaving you both staring after them in stunned silence.
Sylus sighed, hiding his face in the soft bend of your neck. âWeâll definitely have to set some new rules about privacy too.â
‷ á°.á MASTERLIST
#á°.á đ±đđ©đĄ'đŹ writing nook#love and deepspace#lads#l&ds#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x y/n#love and deepspace x you#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#hurt/comfort#fluff
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chewtoy | s. gojo
âź tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+
âź wc ; 2k (????)
âź a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this
"The young Master is calling for you."
You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.
"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"
You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.
You put the dream to rest quickly.
"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."
You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.
He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.
You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.
A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.
A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.
"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"
You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.
"Yes, Master?"
"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."
"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."
"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."
You lift your head, but do not look at his face.
"Come closer,"
You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.
He glances at you. "Look at me."
You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.
His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.
"Lift your skirt,"
Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.
You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.
"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."
You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.
You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.
"Look at me."
It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.
He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.
He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.
"Young Master,"
He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.
Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.
There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.
You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.
He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.
He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.
You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.
"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."
You don't have the strength to say anything.
It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.
Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.
Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.
"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"
He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.
"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."
He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.
"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.
He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.
"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."
"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."
He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.
"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"
You don't answer him. He goes on.
"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."
You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."
It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.
He's too fond of you for that.
The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.
His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.
He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.
But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.
To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.
No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.
You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.
"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.
You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.
"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."
Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."
"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."
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It's a Love Story - Chapter 1
Summary:
Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.
Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.
And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.
Warning:
Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues
If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.
Koschei the Deathless Sorcerer was killed by the Spymaster of the Night Court.Â
It was less dramatic than it sounded. At least Azriel thought so.Â
And if Lucien hadnât been a fucking idiot and put himself into a position to be kidnapped by the very same deathless sorcererâŠthen they wouldnât even have been in that kind of situation.Â
But he had been and so it ended with Azriel so magically exhausted that he collapsed the very same moment Truthteller stroke true once more.Â
At least Koschei was slayn.Â
And the only reason Azriel had gone to rescue the red-headed male in the first place was the fact that Lucien was Elaineâs mate. Lucien was the male Elain loved. Azriel couldnât let him die.Â
Couldnât let Elain feel the devastation of a mating bond broken by deathâŠso his decision making had been quick. Either he would manage to get Lucien freeâŠor he would die trying. There wasnât many things that he wouldnât do for the female he loved. Even when he knew it shouldnât be.Â
Azriel had never been very good at knowing when enough was enough after all, wasnât he?
No price was high enough to pay when it was about Elainâs happiness, as far as Azriel was concerned. Â
He hadn't expected to wake up, and yet⊠there he was. Alive and whole.
*I hope it was worth it, Master,* the shadows sniped at him.
He blinked, taking in the dim light of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. His room in the House of Wind.
âYou are a fucking idiot, you know?â Cassian hissed at him from his place at his bedside and Azriel blinked at him.
"Lucien?" he brought out hoarsely.
"Not as much as a fucking scratch on him. Thanks to you," Cassian responded. "You on the other hand...Madja thought you were going to fucking die from pure magical exhaustion!"
Even Azriel he had...it would have been worth it. Lucien had made it out alive - and that was all that mattered in the end. Elain would be happy. That was all he cared about.
He didn't say that aloud though.Â
He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "How long was I out?" he asked.
"Three days," Cassian growled. "Three. Days."
Azriel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his muscles. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise, every inch of him pained and sore.
"Lay back down," Cassian snapped.
Azriel shot him a glare, but sank back onto the bed nonetheless. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just tired."
"Yeah, well, we'll let Madja be the judge of that," Cassian snapped. "And when you are feeling better, I am going to kill you for going off on your own!"
Azriel just gave him a weary look. "Better me than you," he said dryly. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion settle over him. Cassian had Nesta to think about. Azriel didn't. Azriel just had himself.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Cassian demanded.
Azriel didn't have the energy to answer
He dosed off, feeling the shadows twine around him. They were muttering, words he could c quite understand, bitching under their breath but for once it was comforting.
He woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were heavy. He groggily blinked at the room, feeling like he was in a haze.
It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Cassian was still there, as was Madja.
Azriel groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, and his vision was a little blurred. He rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.
Cassian and Madja both looked at him, their expressions relieved. "How are you feeling?" Madja asked him, moving closer to the bed and waving a hand in front of his face.
"Like I was hit by a wagon," Azriel admitted. His muscles felt tight and sore, his body heavy with fatigue. His wings felt like they were made of lead, and every movement took a huge effort.
"That's unsurprising considering you nearly magicked yourself to death," Madja said gruffly. "Your body had a tremendous amount of stress and strain put on it. You're lucky to be alive."
He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of other options," he pointed out.
Madja just let out a huff and began prodding and poking at his body, running her hands over his wings and checking his pulse. Cassian watched anxiously from the side, his arms crossed over his chest.
Azriel bore her ministrations in silence, trying not to wince as she poked and prodded at him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it didn't make the ordeal any more pleasant.
After what felt like forever, she finally stepped back, nodding to herself. "You're lucky, shadowsinger," she said gruffly. "You're lucky you're so damn resilient," she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or just an observation.
He looked at her blearily. "I guess I can add that to my list of things to be proud of," he muttered sarcastically.
Cassian barked out a laugh, but Madja just rolled her eyes. The door opened at that moment. "How's he doing?" Rhys demanded.
Azriel wanted to let out a sigh at the sight of Rhys. He loved his brother, but he didn't have the energy for a lecture right now.
Madja turned to Rhys. "He's weak and he's stupid," she snapped. "But he's alive."
Rhys let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you, Madja," he said. "Would you...give us a moment?"
Madja nodded, patting Azriel's leg as she got up to leave. "Rest," she ordered. "And no strenuous activity for at least a week."
As soon as the door closed behind her, Rhys turned to Azriel. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.
"I was thinking that I was saving Lucien's life," Azriel replied evenly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I couldn't let him die, Rhys."
"Wouldn't that have made it easier for you?* Rhys demanded sharply mentally. *You are the one that fancies himself in love with Elain.*
Maybe it shouldn't hurt him as much as it did. He didn't fancy himself in love with her. He was in love with her. Had been in love with her and Rhys had been the one to order him away from her, which had given Lucien the opportunity to swoop in and Elain had...Elain had given in. Given in to that Siren Song of the Mating Bond and was very much in love with her mate now.Â
It hurt to hear Rhys say it like that, like it was just some passing infatuation that he'd gotten over.
*Lucien is her mate,* he responded simply. He didn't say what he really thought. He didn't say that he would rather have Elain be happy and never talk with him again than to have her wilt like one of her flowers because her mate had died and the mating bond would be broken⊠He didn't say that he loved Elain enough, that her happiness was more important to him than anything else. He didn't say any of that.
*At least you are recognising that now,* Rhys said with a snort. Azriel didn't flinch. Didn't react.
He hid away in that little corner of his brain he went to when everything became too much. Where he could just shut up all his feelings, all these pesky emotions, and just be...nothing. Nothing. That's the only thing he still had left.
He just shrugged, schooling his face into a careless expression. "I did what I had to do, Rhys," he repeated stubbornly. "Lucien is a good male. He didn't deserve to die."
"Elain wants to thank you," Rhys said suddenly.
Azriel's stomach twisted as Rhys mentioned Elain. He felt a pang of longing in his chest, a desperate ache to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't subject himself to the torture of seeing her with her mate, seeing her happy in Lucien's arms.
So his answer was definite: "There is no need for that," he said simply.
Rhys gave him a sharp look. "Don't be an idiot," he said gruffly. "She's been worried sick about you."
But Azriel just shook his head, even as his heart thudded in his chest.
*You can keep it together for 5 minutes,* Rhys snapped into his mind.
"Rhys," Cassian said carefully. "If he doesn't want to, just let it..."
"He's being ridiculous," Rhys snapped, interrupting Cassian. "Elain is family.â
Azriel grit his teeth but didn't respond. He didn't have the energy for an argument right now. He just wanted to sleep.
*See her for 5 minute snad then you can sulk like a spoiled child until you feel better about yourself,* Rhys bargained drily.
Azriel hesitated. He knew he should see her, knew that it would make things easier for everyone if he did. But the thought of seeing her, seeing her happy with Lucien when he was so miserable, was like a knife to the gut.
"Does it even matter what I want?" he asked, his voice flat.
Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, looking at him with exasperation. "Az, stop being so damned stubborn. Elain has been worried sick about you - the least you can do is let her see that you are alive."
Azriel didn't say anything. Didn't respond. He just stared at Rhys, feeling like every fiber of his being was being pulled apart. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her more than anything. But he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. He would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces.
"Just...come on, Az," Rhys said finally. "Let her see you. She needs to know you're alright."
Azriel knew he couldn't say no. Knew he couldn't hurt her like that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he said softly. "But just for five minutes."
Five minutes. He could do five minutes. He had to. For herâŠ
She was still as achingly beautiful as she always had been. These devasting brown eyes, the caramel curls...
Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Love, longing, sadness, and that bittersweet pang of being so close to something he could never have.
Behave, Rhys warned him sharply.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to push back that wave of feelings that threatened to drown him. It was just five minutes, he reminded himself. Five minutes. He could do this.
The shadows swirled around him, welling up with intensity, shrouding much of his body in inky blackness and Elain flinched back from them.
She had never quite warmed up to them. Azriel was just thankful for that display, for keeping her away from him as she entered the room, Lucien on her heels.
"How...How are you feeling?" she asked him, her voice soft.
He could tell that she was worried, that she was concerned for him. It warmed something inside him, and he hated himself for it.Â
"I'm fine," Azriel answered hoarsely. "Just tired.
"I...thank you," Elain said softly, binting her lip. "If you hadn't...if you hadn't killed Koschei and freed Lucien...I...Thank you, Azriel."
Hearing her say his name again was like a punch to the gut. It was both a comfort and a torture, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He swallowed hard, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.
"You don't owe me any thanks," he said quietly. "I just did what had to be done."
"I do owe you my life," Lucien disagreed. "Thank you. Without your interference...I wouln't have survived, " he said flatly.
Azriel just shrugged, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. He had saved Lucien, had risked his life to save the male who was mated to the female he loved. It was a strange sort of irony.
"It's fine," he said roughly. "I'm just glad I got there in time."
He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at Lucien. It hurt too much. So he stared at the floor, willing the shadows to consume him entirely.
"We are all just happy you are feeling alright," Elain said softly. "I...I was worried about you. Everyone was."
Azriel forced himself to look up at her, his heart clenching at the sincerity in her eyes. She really had been worried about him. "I'm alright," he promised her, his voice rough. "Really. I just need some rest."
Elain hesitated, taking a step forward. He could hear her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was torture to be so close to her and yet so far away. It was torture to know that she was so close and yet so unattainable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. He held onto that last shred of reason he had.
She tugged a piece of hair behind one delicately arched ear...and that was the moment he saw the gold and pearl ring that decorated her ring finger.
"Congratulations." He wasn't sure how he even brought out these words...how he managed to make them sound...appropriately happy for her.
It took a herculean effort to say those words, to offer a smile that barely reached his eyes. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, yelling that he should have been the one giving her that ring, that he should have been the one by her side. But he pushed back those feelings, burying them deep down inside of himself. He couldn't let her see how he truly felt. He couldn't let her know how much it was tearing him apart to stand there and look at her. Look at her with her mate, with the male she loved, the one she had chosen.Â
"Congratulation," he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before.
"It wouldn't have been possible without you," Elain said, with a smile.
Azriel just nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't find the words to express the tangle of emotions swirling inside of him. He just sat there, feeling more alone and isolated than he had in a long time.
Elain took another step in his direction, seemingly ready to reach out, but Cassian intercepted her. placing a gentle hand on Elain's shoulder. "He needs his rest," he said softly. "Let's leave him be for now."
Azriel felt a pang of gratitude towards Cassian. Elain hesitated, looking torn.
"I wish you every happiness," Azriel brought out his voice hoarsely. Not even a lie. It was the frank truth in these words and Elain gave him a smile, before Lucien's hand came to rest at her lower back, guiding her out of the room.
Thank the cauldron. They were gone.Â
He slumped back into the pillow. He was falling apart. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He just wanted to be left alone, to lick his wounds in peace.
"Az..." Cassian said carefully, but he cut him off.
âI am tired,â Azriel said, his voice hoarse. âI need to sleep.â
The shadows swirled around him tighter.Â
Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, before Cassian nodded, "Alright," he said. "Get some rest."
He laid down properly, closing his eyes, calling the shadows to him wordlessly. They swamred around him immediately. Damn Near suffocating him. It was the only thing that kept him from starting to sob.
The shadows embraced him, wrapping him in their inky blackness, shielding him from the outside world. They were his only comfort, just like they had been for centuries.Â
*We are there, Master.* They promised him softly. *It will be fine, Master.*
He didnât believe a fucking word they said.Â
*We are not willing to lose you, Master. We arenât interested in finding a new master,* they told him seriously. He choked out a laugh that turned into a sob.Â
*Sleep, Master. We'll keep watch,* they promised him.
And they did.Â
Bone deep exhaustion meant that at least his sleep was dreamless. At least that was given to him. It was a small mercy.Â
When he woke up again, Nesta was there, sitting in an armchair reading.
Azriel blinked, feeling disoriented and groggy. He sat up slowly, wincing as his wounds protested the movement. Nesta looked up from her book, her expression neutral.
"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.
"Fine," he answered, his voice hoarse. He was fine. He would be fine.Â
"Thank you," Nesta said suddenly.
Azriel looked up at her, surprised. He wasn't even sure what she was thanking him for.
"For what?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
âYou nearly got yourself killed to save my sisterâs mate. I think Thank you is the least I owe you," Nesta said drily.
She mustered him with grey eyes and he knew that she knew. Knew that she knew or at the very least could guess about his feelings for Elain and probably be right. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.
He didnât want to talk about this anymore. It was over with. Done.Â
Lucien and Elain could be happy and AzrielâŠAzriel would hide away somewhere.Â
"You don't owe me anything," he waved Nesta off weakly, but she didnât seem to want to take the hint, sticking out her chin.Â
"Yes, I do," Nesta disagreed. "You are the reason why my little sister is happy right now," she told him fiercely. He swallowed down the unkind words at the tip of her tongue...didn't say anything. Didn't.... He didnât want to think about this. He didnâtâŠ
"Is there anything I can do?" Nesta asked him, her voice soft. "Anything at all, Az?" H knew that he could ask for anything and Nesta would do her level best to give it to him. She was stubborn like that. He had half a mind to ask her to use her silver flames to put him on fire and put him out of his misery.Â
He didnât.Â
Even that wouldnât fix it.Â
There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to make it any better. There was nothing that could...that could fix the ache in his chest.
"Porridge," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Porridge?" Nesta repeated incrediously.
"Porridge with honey. I am hungry," he repeated, meeting her gaze. Food. Food. More Sleep. More Work. He could fill his waking hours with useless things and everybody would be happy.Â
Nesta just looked at him for a moment, then inclined her head.
"Porridge with honey. Alright," she agreed. Just a moment later a massive bowl of Porridge with honey drizzled on top, appeared on his bedside table, so hot it was steaming. Seemed like the house was in a mood to spoil him. He even got a whiff of cinnamon from it.
"Thank you," he thanked Nesta's creature aloud as the shadows fetched the bowl and held it up for him to eat a spoonful. "What are you reading?" he asked Nesta, changing the topic.Â
She was polite enough not to say anything about it.Â
Nesta held up her book. âThe newest Sellyn Drake novel,â she replied.
"Is it any good?" he inquired, stirring his porridge gently.
âItâs brilliant," Nesta gushed, her eyes devoured the pages as soon as she looked down to continue reading.
"You seem to really like it," he pointed out, taking another bite of his porridge. "It is brilliant," Nesta agreed readily. âThe plot is so intricate and twists and turns and the characters are so deep and complex and their emotions are so real and the romance is so...â she trailed off, blushing slightly.
He opened his mouth to respond...but then he heard her.
Mor. Of course.
He couldnât deal with Mor. Not right now. But there she was, Rhys hot on her heels.
Nesta heard her too, rolling her eyes, curling back up on her chair, making it very clear that while she was going nowhere, she was letting him deal with it on her own.Â
And he didnât want to deal with Mor.Â
But there she was.Â
Mor came strolling into the room, her usual confident smile firmly in place. Rhys just looked at Azriel, his expression unreadable.
He didn't say it. But Azriel knew. Behave. Thatâs all Rhys was telling him these days. Either it was about Elain and Lucien...or about Mor and Emerie. Like Azriel would ever do anything to put that in jeopardy. Like Azriel was a jealous child that wouldn't allow Mor to be happy on her own terms. Like...
Azriel ignored the sharp pang of hurt that shot through him at Rhys's look.
Still it was better than looking at MorâŠhe couldnât bear to look at Mor.Â
 Didn't want to look at Mor, in her usual bright red, skin baring dress, that clung to all her curves...didn't want to look at the female he had spent centuries in love with even when he had known that she was never going to return his affections...it hadn't helped him. He had still been in love with her.
And he had still hoped...hoped against all hope that maybe...maybe there would be a time where she would return his affection...that maybe there would be a time where...
But there wouldn't. He knew. He knew. And he had still been in love with her.
Would have given damn near anything for her attention, for that broad smile on her face to be directed in his direction...would have given anything for her to bound over to his bedside and envelope him in her arms...to feel her soft skin against his as she hugged him fiercely, cinnamon and citrus enveloping him.
Now...now it felt like somebody was pouring salt into a gaping wound. Now it felt as painful as the fire and oil on his hands had. She was flaying him alive and she wasnât even aware that she was hurting him.Â
"How are you feeling, Az?" Mor's voice was gentle, concerned. He knew it was genuine, knew that Mor really cared about him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when his heart was bleeding out just from the sound of her voice.
"Fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Nothing that sleep won't fix," he promised her, even as her hands fluttered around him as she sat down on his bedside...
She was so close. He could reach out and touch her, could feel the soft fabric of her dress against his fingertips. He clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.
But he couldn't help it. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He could see the concern there, the worry. He felt a pang of guilt for putting that look on her face. He didn't want to cause her any distress.Â
"I'm just glad you are feeling better," Mor sighed, gently patting his arm. "You had us all worried for a moment there," she admitted softly.
Even just the touch of her hand felt like she was branding him. He wanted to flinch away and forced himself no to.
It was like a bittersweet poison, the way she touched him. It was so familiar, so comforting. But it was also so painful, a reminder of what he could never have.
He looked away, staring down at his hands. They were shaking, just a little. He clasped them together, the monstrous scars that covered them, standing out starkly.
The shadows trembled around him, pulling nearer, growing darker and Mor watched them with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are they?" she teased him slightly.
*You are fine, Master,* the shadows promised him. *No more fire,* they promised him fiercely. But it didnât help. He didnât trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.
Mor seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up, her hand slipping from his arm. "Just rest and get better soon, alright?" she said softly, taking a step back.
"Thank you," he thanked her, his voice hoarse.
He risked a glance up at her, just a quick look. Her face was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and he had to look away again. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.
"We should let him rest, Mor," Rhys said, giving Azriel another look.
"Right, right," Mor agreed, already turning towards the door. "Rest up, Az," she said again, giving him one last smile as she disappeared out the door.
Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as she left the room.Â
Gone. Thank the cauldron. He couldn't take much more of her presence, not right now.Â
He didn't even want to know why Rhys had accompanied her. Probably because he was worried that Azriel wasn't going to behave.
What was he supposed to do instead? Tell Mor about how much she had hurt him over the centuries? How she had given him jut enough scraps of her affection to make him yearn for more but never telling him that she didnât love him like that?Â
He wasnât going to do that.Â
He didn't want to look at Rhys right now, didn't want to face the scrutiny of his high lord's gaze. He just wanted to be left alone.
He knew that Rhys was watching him, that the male wanted to say something. But Azriel didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear the lecture, the warning. He just wanted to be left alone.
The room fell silent, except for the sound of his own breathing. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the mattress. Maybe if he just pretended to sleep, Rhys would leave him alone.
"He's tired. You should let him sleep," Nesta said flatly.
Leave it to Nesta to tell Rhys to stuff it, he reflected weakly. He heard Rhys sigh, but he kept his eyes closed. And after a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room.
He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.Â
Alone. Safe. Mostly at least.Â
Life went on. It always did.
The exhaustion went away after a few days... he caught up on Paperwork in the meantime. He sent the shadows off to find him one information or other and they didn't even bitch to him that badly, which told him that even they felt bad for him.
Behave. Thatâs all Rhys was telling him these days.
So he did. He behaved.
He did his job. He did everything Rhys could possibly want from his spymaster.Â
He didnât argue. He didnât fight. He did his job and he trained and he did everyhting that was expected off him.Â
And then he hadnât tortured himself enough⊠and he went to visit Rosehall.
Where his mother lived.
Under the Mountains had itâs own kind consequences. This was one of them: His mother didnât even want to talk to him anymore.Â
50 years without him...and his mother had made herself a new family. A family that he wasnât welcome in. A family that she wanted him nowhere near. He couldnât fault her for it. Not at all.
She had been half a child when she had had him and it hadnât been by choice.
So who could blame her for making a new family with people that werenât as fucked up in the head as he was? Not Azriel.
Azriel didnât blame her at all. Azriel left her in peace. He didn't reach out. He made sure that she was fine, that she had enough money to never worry about it and otherwise dissappeared from her life.Â
His shadows kept an eye on herâŠHe shored up the wards around Rosehall and caught a glimpse of her. And then he left it at that. She looked happy. Thatâs all he cared about.
Happy and safe andâŠshe didnât need him. She didnât want him around her either, and he could understand that too.
And still, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.Â
ButÂ
*You know the rules,* he told the shadows quietly. *You donât need to report to me about her anymore. Keep an eye on her and only tell me if she is in danger or hurt.*
*Yes, Master,* they agreed readily.Â
So he went back to the House of Wind. Back to VelarisâŠBack to work.Â
He went back to his routine, back to his duties, back to his mask of indifference. He hid the pain behind his usual stoic facade, only letting his shadows know how much it hurt. He threw himself into his work, using it as a way to distract himself from his own loneliness.
And when he wasn't working, he would spend hours and hours in the training ring in the House of Wind, working himself to exhaustion. Anything to try and drown out the ache in his heart.
For gods sake, he even attended Elain and Lucienâs mating ceremony. And gifted them an appropriate gift. He behaved just like Rhys wanted him too.
He even summoned up a smile for them on their special day, hiding his own pain behind a mask of false happiness. He congratulated them both, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of Elain's beaming face. But he didnât let it show. He behaved. Like Rhys wanted him too.
He stayed for the whole thing. Stayed for the dancing, stayed for the feast. Stayed until he could physically take it no more. And then he had retreated to that training ring again, beating his pain and loneliness out on whatever dummy he could find.
He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Tired of pretending like nothing was wrong. He wanted nothing more than to just scream and rage and shout and cry. But he didnât. He held it all in. Bottled it up like he was so good at doing.
He was in the bathtub, sluicing off the sweat he was drenched inâŠshaking off his wings just because he could move them however he wanted to
*You should go out, Master,* the shadows suggested seriously. *Go out and find a female.*
He just snorted. *Not interested,* he sniped back harshly. *I am not getting my heart broken again.*
Everybody could just fuck off and leave him alone. Even when he was achingâŠaching for somebody in his life that loved him. For whom he could be everything. Somebody he could dote on. Somebody that wanted his attention, that wanted his loveâŠthat would like his ruined hands on their body and wasnât paid to simply acccept it.Â
*You could let us pick her!* the shadows suggested brightly.
His eyes snapped back open and he glared at the shadows swirling around the room. *Absolutely not,* he said firmly. *I mean it, you stay out of it.*
*We canât do a worse job than you do,* they sniped at him. *Neither The Seer nor The Morrigan would have suited you at all.*
*Excuse me?!*Â
*You heard us, Master,* the shadows said, sounding far too smug for their own good. *And you know it.*
Azriel just glared at them, feeling his temper start to rise. *I know I wasnât good enough for them,* he snapped. *You donât need to tell me that.*
*You think you werenât good enough for them?!* The shadows asked him incredulously.
*They deserve better. So much better than me,* he said quietly. "I'm not good enough for either of them. Never was.*
What was he, after all? An Illyrian bastard? A monster? Either? Both?Â
He had never said it out loud before, not even to himself. But in that moment, lying in the water, his heart so raw and exposed, he couldn't help but speak the truth that he had always known but never admitted to himself. "I'm not good enough for either of them," he repeated softly, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest.
He knew it was true. Mor was a golden ray of light, the embodiment of beauty and grace. Elain was sweet and gentle and kind, a pure soul in a sea of darkness.Â
And what was he? Damaged. Broken. Scarred. Inside and out.
He had done unspeakable things, things that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come. He was nothing compared to them. He was darkness, they were light. And they deserved better than him, far better than him.
Even if he had loved Mor with every fiber of his being, even if he had yearned for her with every beat of his heart, even if he had dreamed of her every night, it didn't matter. It had never mattered. Because he wasn't good enough for her. And he never would be.
He wasnât good enough for Elain. The mother hadnât thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Both of his brother had been gifted with a mating bond, but not him. That should tell him everything he needed to know abotu the state of his own soul.Â
So whyâŠwhy should he even try anymore.Â
Why shouldnât he just stew in his own misery, alone and heartbroken and a monster and expect everybody to just leave him alone? There was no point of putting himself out there again. There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but more pain.ââ
So he closed his eyes again, sinking lower into the water, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles. He let out a long sigh, his mind already racing with thoughts of his next missions, his next assignments. Because that was all that really mattered now. His job. His duties. His responsibilities. That was all he had left.
Behave. Thatâs all he was good for.Â
*Alright, thatâs fucking enough,* the shadows snapped. *You are not letting The High Lord talk to you like that any longer, Master.*
Azriel was so surprised by their fucking vehemence that he could just stare at them.Â
*The Morrigan used you for centuries to make herself feel better about herself,* the shadows snapped. *She used the feelings you had for her and that she was very much aware of to strangle you and keep you in line.*
Azriel swallowed. He knew they were right. He knew that Mor had used his feelings for her for a long time. She had led him on, given him false hope, only to yank it away time and time again. It had been a painful cycle, one that had left him feeling used and broken and worthless.
*She could have stopped at any time but she never did,* the shadows hissed. *But instead she hurt you on purpose. Instead of turning you down, she slept with other males to show you that you would never have her!*
Azriel felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Mor had flaunted her other lovers in front of him, making it clear that he would never be enough for her. She had used his devotion to her as a weapon against him, wielding it whenever it suited her needs. And he had let her. He had been foolish, desperate enough to cling onto any scrap of affection she might throw his way.
*And The Seer?! Granted she has never done that, but her feelings for you werenât particular deep when she replaced you on her affections with The Fox as soon as you werenât available anymore! If she had cared, truly cared, she would have thought about what happened during Winter Solstice,* the shadows snapped.
*And The High Lord? Donât even let us get started on him,* the shadows snapped. *You havenât even done anything since that Winter Solstice, and he keeps behaving like some kind of despotic Overlord, worried that his orders wonât be followed. If you wanted to punch him in the face, you probably had every right to it,* they mumbled.
Azriel couldnât help but snort.Â
*You deserve better, Master,* The shadows told him fiercely. *You deserve somebody that loves you.*Â
. He wanted to believe the shadows. He wanted to believe that he was good enough, that he deserved more. But the scars on his body and the memories in his mind told him otherwise. He had done terrible things, things that he could never undo. How could someone like that be good enough for anyone?
*Alright,* he finally agreed weakly. *Find me a house,* he told the shadows, as he closed his eyes.
*A house? What kind of house?* the shadows gave back, sounding surprised.
*A house,* he repeated. *A home. Somewhere in Velaris. Find me a home.* Something that could just be his.
A home. The idea sent a flutter through his stomach. He had neverâŠnever truly had a home. Had something that could just be his and nobody elseâs. JustâŠa place that was his, where he could be whoever he wanted, where he was accepted and loved...it was appealing. Maybe even more than just appealing.
He closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. A cozy little house, just large enough for himself. Warm and cozy and filled with light.
*Thatâs what a male needs to take a wife after all, right?* He asked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Was that what he should want? What he was supposed to want? He had never really thought about getting married before. But now, at the mention of it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. A wife...a family...love and companionship. It all sounded soâŠso nice.
*You want to get married, Master?* the shadows asked curioulsy. *To whom?*
*You pick,* he told the shadows. They swarmed out in pure excitment. Azriel couldnât even remmeebr the last time they had been so excited.Â
He couldn't help but chuckle at their reaction. Maybe they would do a better job than him. At least they could probably sieve out females that were in a romantic relationship or preferred females themselves.Â
*Find me somebody that I could make happy. Somebody thatâŠ.Somebody that could want me.* Some long-suffering female for whom Azriel could maybe try to be enough. Somebody that would love him.
*What should she look like?* they asked seriously.
*I donât care. Find me somebody that loves me and sheâll be the most beautiful female to me anyway.*
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"Mom," Steve whispered in the inky blackness of his parents' room. "Mom, there's something under my bed."
Patricia Harrington turned over. "Steven, go back to sleep," she murmured.
"I can't." Steve said. "There's a monster."
"No such thing." his mom said, angrier, more awake. "Go to bed now, and if I catch you out of bed again you can forget going to Tommy's this weekend."
Steve nodded and padded back down the hall, pausing at his door then taking a running jump into bed.
The room was silent.
"I know you're here." Steve whispered, making sure all his limbs were tucked safely away under the covers. "You don't scare me."
A couple minutes of quiet, then Steve heard a scraping sound come from under his bed. He squeaked and pulled his blankets up to his nose.
A horrible, raspy laugh came from below him. "I do scare you!" said a voice. "You lied!"
"No-no you don't!" Steve said boldly. He clutched his blanket tighter, then said, "I can't be scared of something I can't see! That's just dumb."
Something dark began to slither across the floor out of the corner of Steve's eye. Oh, I'm gonna regret that, he thought.
The thing began to pull itself up, looming over Steve. It cracked a smile, and sharp white teeth gleamed in the light from his closet.
Steve screamed.
"Shut up!" his dad shouted angrily from downstairs, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking between the shadow and the door like he wasn't sure which monster to be more afraid of.
The monster crept toward him, and Steve dug his fingernails into his face, scooting away from the horror. He whimpered, not daring to close his eyes.
Then the monster began to shrink.
It shriveled away, changing color and backing up, until a little boy, about Steve's age, stood in front of him. He had long curly hair and was dressed in a t-shirt that was way too big on him. When he opened his eyes, Steve flinched, because the whites of his eyes simply...weren't there. His eyes were an onyx black.
"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Eddie."
Steve was too stunned to speak, but he did uncover his mouth.
"I'm the monster under your bed!" Eddie said. "I'm supposed to scare you, but, um-" he risked a quick look at the door "-I don't think you need my help for that."
"Why are you supposed to scare me?" Steve asked.
Eddie shrugged. "Dunno. Every kid's got one. It's just how it works. I was made to be your monster, forever!" He sat down on the edge Steve's bed, bumping Steve's shoulder against his. "Weird to be on this side of the bed. No dust bunnies or anything."
Steve giggled, forgetting his fear. "You're fun!"
Eddie grinned at him. "Thank you! None of the other monsters think my jokes are funny."
"So you have to scare me?" Steve asked. "But you're not scary. Not after talking to me."
Eddie paused. "Oh, right. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Um..."
"What if we just say you're scaring me?" Steve asked. "I'll pretend I'm really scared of the monster under my bed, and you pretend you scare me every single night. But really we're hanging out instead of scaring!"
"Ooh, I like that idea!" Eddie struck a dramatic pose. "I'll be the monster under your bed, but I'll be ready to protect you if you need it too!"
Steve stuck out his hand like he saw his dad do for business deals. "Deal?"
Eddie shook it. "Deal."
-
Steve sprinted through the forest, the kids hot on his heels. "There!" he shouted. "Everyone in!"
The kids bolted to the abandoned cabin, and Steve slammed the door shut. "Is there a bed in here?" he called. "A couch? A fridge?"
"Bed's in here!" Will yelled, and Steve followed his voice to the cluttered bedroom, complete with partially-caved-in bedframe. He gingerly took a seat on the mattress, cringing when it crackled. He did not need to know what was on this.
"Eddie?" he called, tapping on the flaky painted wood.
The shitheads crowded in, and Mike murmured. "What the fuck is he doing?"
Steve ignored him. "Eddie, come on, I need your help."
Something tall, dark, and lanky slid out from under the bed, and all the kids jumped back in fright, raising their various weapons. Steve leapt to get in front of them, raising his hands as a shield. "Chill! Calm down, this is Eddie!"
Eddie shrank into his human form, draping himself over Steve. "You had to summon me to the nastiest bed in Indiana? Really, Steve?"
Steve shrugged. "This was the closest one. We need your help, Eds."
"We?" He focused on the Party. "Well, these must be the infamous buttheads." Eddie slid into the shadows and reappeared behind the Party, inspecting them. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, right?" he said, pointing at each one as he said their names.
"What the fuck are you?" Dustin asked.
Suddenly Eddie was under Steve's arm, wrapping a hand around his waist. "I'm Steve's monster under the bed." he said. "I'm just... friendlier with Steve than most of the monsters I work with."
Steve rolled his eyes. "You can tell him you're my boyfriend, they know I'm bi." He kissed Eddie on the cheek.
The kids all broke into gasps, except for Max, who fake gagged. "Don't be gross!" she yelled. "Demogorgon outside, remember?"
"Ah, right." Steve said. "Eds, can you-"
"On it." Eddie kissed Steve. "I'll be back."
The kids watched Eddie melt into shadows, then wheeled on Steve. "Steven Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Harrington," Dustin said. "You have a lot of explaining to do."
edit: i did not expect this response to the short little thing that took me 30 mins max at 2am!! iâm planning on rewriting it and turning it into a full length fic, so iâll come back and edit this with the link!
edit #2: if thereâs anything you guys want to see in the full length version of this please let me know!! iâm trying my best to make it a slowburn which is horrid for my adhd so let me know if thereâs anything you want!!
#weirdest au ive ever written LMAO#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#idk where this came from either
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Threshold
Simon asks you to take his virginity, just not in so many words. Or any words at all, really. 5.7 k
cw: virgin!Simon, PIV, oral sex f and m receiving, stop and start sex, lack of communication (typical Simon), poor writing, soft!Simon, hints at past trauma, contraception.
-
A Ghost shaped shadow falls over the table. Your eyes lift to find him standing there, the neck of his beer bottle held loosely in his hand. His mask is drawn down below his chin, revealing to you one of your favorite parts of him: his mouth. Simon has a pretty mouth, scarred though it is. Maybe you have such an affinity for it because it is so often hidden away from your sight, or maybe itâs what that mouth is capable of, being just as likely to crack a poor dad joke as it is to cut a grown man to the bone with just a few words.Â
He takes the seat across from you, the screeching of the chair on the floor lost to the ambient sounds of the pub. The others are playing pool (Gaz is taking all of them to task), and the place is packed with bodies, a cacophony of voices and laughter. Feeling overstimulated, you had sequestered yourself away to this little corner hoping to catch your breath and tether yourself back to the earth instead of spending the rest of the night in a dissociated haze.Â
The sight of Ghost is like a light slap to the cheek, rousing you from your stupor. Lights burn brighter. Sounds are sharper. If you wrack your brain you can count on one hand the number of times youâve ever been singled out by Ghost, so you know whatever is about to happen is out of the ordinary. Leaning in, you lace your fingers together on the table top and nearly have to shout to be heard as you say: âWhat can I do for you, Ghost?âÂ
âWe should hook up,â he says. Then he takes a long drink from his bottle, eyes sharp and dark where they are narrowed in on you over the top. A sniperâs eyes.Â
âWhat?â you shout back, positive that you have misheard him.Â
He shrugs. He wonât repeat himself.Â
âMeâand you?â
He raises his brows, looking around the empty table as if to ask, Who else?
âWhy?â
He takes another drink, and you see him mulling over his potential answers this time, sucking on his teeth as he thinks. What you wouldnât give to be a fly on the wall in his head. Heâs got you on tenterhooks, leaning forward onto your elbows, fingers absently (anxiously) playing with a condensation ring left by someone elseâs drink earlier in the night.Â
Finally, he says, âWhy not?â
-
His hand rests low on your back as the two of you say goodbye to the others. You see the downright thunderstruck looks Gaz and Soap throw at each other at your announcement that Ghost is driving you home, but the deeper meaning hardly registers. Who cares if everyone knows that youâre taking Ghost home to fuck him? Youâre both adults; you need no oneâs permission. Still, as soon as you are outside, you press your palms to your heated cheeks, wondering how you will be able to face any of them in the future.Â
âYou driving?â you ask him.Â
He lifts his hand, showing you the keys in his palm. He doesnât open the car door for youânot that you had really expected him to. It isnât as if this is a date. Itâs just two adults hooking up.
Inside, he shifts the vents towards you and turns on the heat, soothing the goosebumps that had begun to bloom on your arms. He waits until youâve buckled your seatbelt before backing out and onto the street. Itâs only then that you remember what Soap says about Ghostâs driving. You wish you had a second seatbelt.Â
âSo what brought all this on?â you ask, feeling remarkably shy in the passenger seat. Youâre beginning to sober up from your drinks at the pub, not that you had ever been that drunk to begin with. Maybe this was a mistake. Youâre already suffering from nerves, and you havenât even gotten back to your apartment yet. How were you supposed to fuck Ghost without looking like a fawn, your knees knocking together coltishly, nauseous from anxiety?Â
âIâve been thinking about it for a while,â he admits.Â
Alright. Downright digestible news. Before tonight, you wouldnât have even considered you and Ghost friends, necessarily. More like friend-adjacent, thanks to your mutual friendship with Johnny. Itâs good to know that apparently you had caught his eye somehow, even if it was by being the only woman among a male-dominated group of friends.Â
You canât leave it alone. âBut why?âÂ
âThatâs what people do, isnât it?â he asks, like heâs not a person, like heâs only ever heard about what itâs like to be one from a friend of a friend. âThey think about fucking each other. Donât you think about fucking me?âÂ
Your mouth goes dry. You do. You think about fucking Ghost a lot than one might expect for how few minimal interactions youâve had. Being perfectly honest, tonight is sort of becoming a dream come true. Youâd had an attraction for Ghost ever since youâd met him, even before heâd taken the mask off and youâd seen that he has such a pretty face underneath.Â
Youâd be willing to examine under a microscope your affection for aloof, seemingly unaffected men on a different day.
Ghost looks at you, trying to interpret your silence, the car swerving slowly into the other lane. You make a sound remarkably close to a screech and reach out to adjust the wheel, but he adjusts it before you do, batting your hand away softly.Â
âWe donât have to do this,â he says, eyes firmly on the road now. âIâll just drop you off.âÂ
âNo, I want to,â you say. âItâs justâitâs been a while for me. I want to, though.âÂ
Ghost casts you a doubtful glance. He pulls into your apartment complexâs parking lot and the two of you head up together. True to form, you feel his eyes taking in all the new sights: the man behind the desk who doesnât even look up as you both enter, the elevator that was last inspected two years ago, the proximity to the neighboring apartments.
After you unlock the door but before he crosses the threshold, he reaches up and runs his hand along the top of the doorframeâand easily pulls away your spare key. For a moment he holds it between you both, staring. He seems nearly as surprised as you are by his own actions. Reaching out, he sets it down on the end table just beyond the entry and says: âYou couldnât find a better hiding place for that?âÂ
âGoddamnit, Ghost,â you whine, slipping off your shoes. âYouâre not here to assess my, my security measures. Youâre here to fuck me. Will you get in?â
He comes in and makes a circle of the living space, his steps silent in a way youâve never been able to replicate, not even here in your own living space. You cross your arms, wondering what heâs thinking. Does he think you a slob? A terrible interior designer? You told yourself that you didnât care. The space was yours, and yours alone, and you liked it well enough. He could survive being in it for one night.
âWhatâs the verdict?â you ask after the silence stretches too thin.Â
âItâs nice,â he says. Then he amends, or perhaps adds: âItâs you.âÂ
âIâm choosing to take that as a compliment. Do youâŠwant a drink?ââÂ
âNo,â he says, taking off his jacket and resting it on the arm of the couch. âWant you to câmere.âÂ
Your feet obey before your mind even thinks to question it, padding across the living room in your socks until you stand in front of where he has seated himself on your frayed, careworn loveseat. He looks up at you, eyes dark and all-seeing. His hands find your hips, testing the width of them, and he makes you feel like something small, something precious, something to be cradled in the palm of his hand like a gem or jewel.
âSit down,â he says. So you sit beside him, close enough to breathe in his clean scent.Â
âIâm going to kiss you,â he says, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. âAs soon as you say youâll let me.âÂ
âIâll let you.âÂ
His lips are soft as they look, mouth warm and insistent as he coaxes you to part your lips and taste himâas if you need the incentive. He tastes like Priceâs whiskey that he had sipped at the bar, like he would settle warm in your belly and everywhere else. His hand relaxes his hold on your chin, choosing instead to cup your jaw, suffusing warmth throughout your cheek.Â
It turns into the longest makeout session youâve had since you were a teenager. You kiss until your jaw aches, until your lips are raw, until youâre throbbing between your legs. Each time you try to move things along, Ghost gently deflects your advances, seeming content to kiss you for ages. If this is how he fucks, it will be an all night affair.Â
âGhost please,â you mutter against his mouth when you feel liable to burst, when he wonât even let you slip a hand beneath his t-shirt.Â
âHere,â he mutters, hauling you onto his lap. Thatâs headed in the right direction. Your thighs spread obscenely wide to accommodate him, lowering yourself until you feel that hard line beneath his jeans. Instinct has you lining yourself up until you can rub off against him, a choked sound rising up in the back of your throat at the blissful friction.Â
He sighs into your mouth, a trembling little exhale of air, his hands finding your hips and pinning you in place. Pulling back, he mutters: âNone of that.âÂ
âWhy not?â you pant. âFeels good.âÂ
âIâm trying not to embarrass myself. Work with me.â
The two of you move to the bedroom. You stand on legs that are already shaking, stripping clothes off along as you go: socks here, leggings there. The typical anxious thoughts have just started spiraling in your headâwhat underwear are you wearing? Have you shaved recently enough? Is the light flattering? When did you last change the sheets?âwhen Ghost catches you, looping his forearm around your waist and pulling you back against his firm chest.Â
âI wanted to undress you,â he says against the nape of your neck.Â
âI can put the clothes back on if you like.âÂ
âThink Iâll just do the rest myself, if itâs all the same to you.âÂ
His hands are remarkably gentle for his line of work as he helps you out of your shirt, your arms lifting obligingly to help him. The light from the lamp in the corner is actually quite flattering, casting shadows across you both in a way that is artful. His fingertips, calloused but careful, trace up the lengths of your arms and around to your back.Â
He fumbles a little with the clasp of your bra.Â
âI hate those things,â you breathe once he finally gets it figured out, coaxing the straps off your shoulders.Â
âMe too,â he says in that dry, bland way that youâve come to associate with his humor.
All thatâs left are your panties. He presses you back onto the bedspread and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, peeling them off your thighs. Your legs try to close on instinct, but he is quick to wedge himself between them, thumbs finding the creases where your thighs meet your pelvis and stroking the sensitive skin until you donât know whether to laugh from being tickled or cry from being teased.Â
âFuckinâ pretty, arenât you?â he murmurs, eyes on your pussy. Maybe heâs talking to it and not to you. âWant to get my mouth on you. Can I?âÂ
God, how long has it been since youâve gotten head? You nod, near frantic. Even if heâs no good, some effort will be better than nothing. Besides, a part of you has high hopes for Ghost as a lover; so far he has been thorough and careful, both points in his favor. He leans up and kisses you again, your nipples brushing against his t-shirt, reminding you that you are naked while he is still entirely dressed. He seems content, and as desperate as you are to see him naked, youâre even more desperate not to break this blissful little soap bubble you both have somehow managed to find yourselves in.Â
Nudging your head up and to the side with the tip of his nose, he trails his mouth down your neck, tasting your skin and searching for your most sensitive spots. When he finds them, he drags his teeth against them softly until your heels are digging into the bed beneath you, hips up and searching for any kind of friction, even if you have to rub yourself against his jeans to find it.Â
Ghost continues down over the plains of your chest, teasing first one nipple and then the other with his mouth and his hands, testing the heft of your breasts in his huge palms. He explores your body with an admirable single-mindedness, not the perfunctory, half-hearted way some of your past lovers had. His eyes are never far from your own, categorizing your reactions; for what purpose, you arenât sure.Â
After kissing a line right over your navel, he grips your thighs in his hands and spreads you wide. That close to your cunt, he must be able to smell how desperate you are, must be able to see the way it drips from you. He ghosts a thumb along your slit, turns it towards himself until your slick catches on the light. That thumb disappears into his mouth, and it takes all your breath and all your thoughts with it. His hum of approval vibrates against your calves which are pressed to either side of his chest.Â
âOkay?â he asks.Â
You nod, unable to trust your voice.Â
He leans down and kisses your folds, chaste and sweet as he might have kissed your mouth. He uses the fingers of one hand to spread you open, and there is a rush of warmth as he lets the saliva pool on his tongue and then flood against your sex, leaning down to chase it with his mouth.Â
He is all merciful tongue and lips, no hint of teeth as he licks and sucks at that hidden knot of flesh at the top of your sex. He barely pays your entrance any attentionâwhich is fine by you, honestly, his tongue is direly needed elsewhereâbut shifts an arm free to sling it over your pelvis, palm resting over your mons, thumb pulling back that hood that seeks to keep your most sensitive parts hidden from him.Â
Your hands grip fistfuls of your bedspread, unsure if heâs willing to let you touch his hair. The noisesâgasps and whines and choked groansâcoming out of your mouth would have your soul leaving your body if only you could hear them over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.Â
Heâs strong, fighting against your natural urges to clamp your thighs shut around his head. Instead he presses you open wider, leaving no where for you to run to or hide as the pleasure in your pelvis blossoms, swells into some sweet fruit that bursts all over his tongue, your back arching into a neat bow.Â
You find out then that Ghost eats pussy the same way he kisses. He seems content to lap you clean and continue sucking at your swollen flesh, and even though you donât think you could cum again, it still feels good. You melt into the mattress, boneless. Against your better judgement, your hand finds his hair, tucking back the longest strands that just begin to tickle the tops of his ears. Â
His mouth stutters against you at the touch, losing its easy rhythm. He pulls back until he is out of your reach.Â
âSorry,â you whisper, throat raw. Your hand falls to rest on your soft belly, feeling exhausted.
âYou can touch. Just donât pull. I donâtââ he stops, like he is searching for the right words. ââI donât want it to hurt.âÂ
âNot at all?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
âMe neither. Would you kiss me again?âÂ
His only answer is to shift upwards so that he can meet your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue. His cock, still confined in his jeans, brushes against your thighs. One of your hands wanders down his firm chest, down his belly, til you can map the shape of his erection with your fingers. His biceps tense around you where he braces himself on the bed to keep from putting his weight on you, head dropping til his forehead rests against the juncture between your neck and shoulder.Â
âYou should get undressed,â you remind him.Â
He lets out a breath through his nose that sounds suspiciously like a sigh, leaning back onto his haunches to tug his shirt off over his head. You stare, awed. Heâs so thick, all over: muscles hidden beneath a nice layer of soft padding, chest hair broken up by the odd scar here or there. You reach out toward his belt but he stops you.Â
âI can do it,â he says. He stands and strips himself naked in one fell swoop, like ripping off a bandaid. Heâs thick here too, just as you had suspected: thighs and cock included. Already you can feel the phantom stretch of him between your legs and in your jaw. It burns away the last bits of sleepiness your orgasm had given you.Â
Throughout your perusal, he stands still, at attention, mouth turned downward in its most comfortable frown, meeting your eyes with an almost obstinate persistence. You kneel up and crawl to the edge of the bed, letting your legs dangle off of it.Â
âCan I touch you?âÂ
âAlright,â he says.Â
You start at his shoulders, tracing over the broad width of them. Everything about him displays his strength. Even his scars, which some might consider signs of failure, only showed his persistence for survival. You ran your hands across his pecs, pausing to toy with one pale, pink nipple, so soft beneath your fingers. With each breath he takes, his abs are thrown into sharp relief.Â
âGod, Ghost,â you mutter, tracing a line down to his cock.Â
âI know,â he says dully, though what he knows, youâre unsure of. âCondomâs in my pants.â
âWe donât need one.â
âI donât want any surprises.â
âYou wonât get any. Here.â You take his hand and guide it to your upper arm where your implant sits just beneath the surface of your skin. He flinches, unsure what he is touching. âItâs my contraception.â
âThatâs horrifying,â he mutters.Â
âDo what I doâdonât think of it.âÂ
âRight.â
You shift backwards up into the bed, thighs falling open invitingly. Instead of filling the space between them, he lays next to you, rolling you til you both face each other.Â
He runs his calloused palm up the length of your leg and grips your thigh, tugging it up and over his hip until you are spread open for him. Thereâs a question in his eyes, a slowness to his movement that gives you ample time to deny him this if you donât want itâbut you do. God you do. You ache for itâfor him.Â
He reaches down and slips two fingers into you, easy as anything in your wet, relaxed state. The fullness is divine, even more so when he decides youâre ready for that third finger, the one that stretches your entrance and makes you hiss a breath through your teeth.Â
Ghost doesnât even fuck you with them, just leaves you stuffed full of his fingers while he kisses you more. He waits until youâre the one shifting and thrusting against his touch before pulling out and wiping your wetness across your tender folds.Â
He grips his cock, guides it to your entrance. Hesitates.Â
âPlease,â you mutter, face flushed with heat, hoping he doesnât want you to beg. Youâll debase yourself, but it will be painful.Â
Whether or not it was your word he was waiting for, he slips inside you, a near-unbearable fullness and pressure that has you burying your face in his chest. His own breaths are stuttered, shallow as he sinks as deep into you as your body will allow and no deeper. Once heâs inside you, he seems to relax, like some great race has been run, some threshold has been crossed and now he can rest.Â
âLet me know when I can move,â he says, running his hand up and down the length of your back, down over the curve of your ass.Â
âNot yet,â you beg. âFeels like youâre in my fucking throat. Jesus, Ghost.âÂ
His cock twitches. You both suck in a breath.Â
âDonât say that shit,â he mutters, breathless, fingers digging grooves into the soft flesh of your hips. âLean back. I want to look at you.â
You uncurl yourself away from his chest, tilting your chin up towards him. The last twinges of pain in your cunt have receded until all that lasts is that ceaseless fullness. He moves at last, laying down his arm so you can rest your head on his bicep. Only then are you aware of how painfully intimate this position is. There is nowhere to turn away to, nowhere to hide. Youâve had sex with partners less intimate than this.Â
âYou can move,â you assure him, hoping for a distraction.Â
He takes a breath so deep his chest brushes your own. The pace he sets is downright agonizingly slow, less thrusting and more of a solid grind against you that has you a shivering mess in his arms. Thereâs little chance you could cum at this pace, but it feels good, and all of it is strangely secondary to him.Â
Thereâs a look in his eyes. You donât understand it. Is it tenderness? Genuine affection? Gratitude? Youâve never had sex with this much eye contact before, never felt like breaking that gaze could take you out of the hazy headspace youâre in. Ghost finds your hand and grips itâdoesnât lace your fingers together but instead holds them like a tiny bundle of sticks in his giant hand.
He rests his forehead against your own. His eyes fall shut for just a moment, and it gives you the freedom to examine his features freely: the low brow, the curve of his nose, the pink scars tinged pale purple in the low light. You feel like youâre seeing him for the first time. You feel like youâre the first person to ever see him.Â
That strange thought starts a domino effect in your mind, sets off a chain reaction, slides a dozen puzzle pieces into a Ghost shaped puzzle and all at once it hits you.Â
âGhostâstop.âÂ
He stills, eyes opening. Reverses, withdrawing from inside you. âWhat hurts?â
âNothing,â you assure him. âButâIâm sorry. Youâve done this before, right?âÂ
He doesnât respond. Heâs meeting your eyes, but he has that obstinate, pained look again, like heâd rather be looking straight at the sun.Â
Your voice pitches upward with a hint of panic. âGhost??â
âFucking hell,â he groans, rolling onto his back, cock slipping free and leaving you feeling bereft. The mattress dips, making you sway toward him. You shift away. âWhat gave me away?â
âOh my god. Youâre kidding, right? Please tell me youâre joking.âÂ
âBloody wish,â he mutters, arm thrown over his eyes.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âThe fuck would I tell you for?â He sounds genuinely baffled.Â
âSo I couldâI donât know! So I could have known!âÂ
âDidnât want you to fucking know,â he says, letting his arm down so that he can glare at you fiercely. At the sight of you huddled at the other side of the bed, naked, arms wrapped around yourself, the fury seems to melt out of him. His shoulders sag. He palms at his eyes briefly, like a headache is brewing.
âFucked it,â he mutters to himself, going for his jeans and sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on. âFucked it all.âÂ
âYou didnât,â you offer hastily, though it does feel a little fucked. Suddenly you realize that your chance to fuck Ghost is slipping through your fingers like so much sand. What had started as a dream come true was turning into a nightmare, and you couldnât bear the thought of letting him leave. Not like this.Â
At your words, he tosses you a look, and how a human can fit so much skepticism in a single expression is beyond your belief.
âReally. I just wish Iâd known so I could have been better for you.â You donât realize the truth of the statement until you say it. The last thing you wanted was for him to look back on this moment with disappointment.Â
He shakes his head and mutters: âYouâre mad.âÂ
âWe could stillâyou know.âÂ
He stops, jeans halfway pulled up his thick thighs. âWhat, fuck?â
You find a loose thread on your bedspread and twist it around your finger, shrugging. Aiming for cool and missing by a mile.Â
âYou want to.âÂ
âWell, yeah.â You abandon the thread, feeling too exposed. Tucking your legs up toward your chest, you wrap your arms around yourself. âLike you said in the car. Iâve been thinking about it.â
âAbout fucking me.â
âAre these questions?â you ask, face warm. âYes, I think about it. Thought about it. I have thoughts.âÂ
His lips twitch, a ghost of a smile, gone before you can imagine what a full-fledged grin would even begin to look like. âYouâre serious.â
âReally serious,â you offer, sensing that he might be coming back around to the idea himself. Though youâre no vixen, you let your body unfold just to watch the way his eyes drop to look you over. You never knew eyes could be hungry. âPants off? Please?â
Heâs still and quiet for several long moments, but at length he shoves them back down his thighs, naked once more. Heâs only half hard, but no less intimidating in this state. You eagerly shift to the edge of the bed and off, back down onto your knees in front of him, palms against his thighs.Â
âIs this okay?â you ask, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, aware that this is one of your most flattering angles.Â
âGo on,â he says. He sounds doubtful. You are too, unsure if you can find the same rhythm you both had going before. Unsure if you want to, now that you know him better.Â
You take one of his hands and coax it into cupping your cheek, then slide it back and up into your hair. âDonât pull. No pain, right?âÂ
Something hard in his expression softens marginally. His fingertips scratch gently at your scalp, a silent praise as he agrees: âNo pain.â
Leaning forward, you nuzzle at his cock. It is velvety soft against your cheek. His scent here is more concentrated, masculine and warm. Above you, he sucks in a breath through his teeth.Â
How much you enjoy giving head usually directly depends on your partner, and Ghost is brilliant to suck off. Some might find him stoic or unaffected, but his expressions are just understated. When you place an open mouthed kiss against his shaft, his fingers twitch in your hair. When you take the tip past your lips to rest heavily against your tongue, he lets out a shaky exhale. By the time heâs nudging the back of your throat while you work the excess inches of his cock in your fist, he is grunting in between in sharp breaths. You find yourself becoming hyper attuned to his reactions until each minuscule motion feels exaggerated to your brain. A twitch becomes a caress. A sigh a moan. Â
âIâll cum in your mouth if you donât stop,â he grits out.Â
You pull off, jaw aching, lips slick. âIâd rather you came inside me.âÂ
He pulls you to your feet and kisses you. All the kisses tonight, and this one has been the most honest, the most needful, the most raw. Had he never even kissed anyone before tonight? you wonder. Itâs hard to believe that the answer might be yes. The way he kisses melts your brain, fizzles your thoughts.Â
âGhost,â you breathe when he gives you a moment to come up for air, his mouth dipping low to your collarbone where he sucks softly.Â
âYou know my name,â he says, mouth against your skin. âUse it.â
Simon. You have to say it in your mind first to get used to it. Simon. Simon. Then he finds one of those sensitive spots in the crook of your neck and you are whispering it, voice trembling more than youâd like: âSimon.âÂ
âI like the way you say it,â he admits. âYouâve got a pretty mouth.â
âSo do you.âÂ
He snorts softly, shaking his head, like you have said something very silly.Â
âUp.â He grips your waist and helps you up onto the bed. You scoot back, making room for him between your thighs, and he fills the space so fucking snugly. His cock nudges at your sex and reminds you of how you ache all anew.Â
This time when he slips inside you, it punches a sound out of you that is remarkably close to a whine, your toes curling.Â
âFuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck,â you gasp, hands scrabbling for purchase against his broad shoulders, careful not to scratch him.Â
His head drops, forehead resting against your own, eyes shut. âFuckâs right. Not a chance Iâll last after being in your mouth.â
âWait for me,â you choke out, working one hand between you both until your fingers can find your clit. The angle isnât the best, not with him so close, but itâs made up for by how blissfully full you are, by how Simonâs arms are trembling where he holds himself up above you. Briefly you let your fingers take a side trip, teasing his cock where he stretches you open, and Simon groans. Fuck, it goes right to your head. It makes you feel like you could walk on water.Â
You find his mouth and kiss him, kiss him til your head is light with lack of air, kiss him til your thighs are shaking with how close you are from your own expert touch.Â
âFuck me, now, fuck me please,â you beg into his mouth.
He draws back until just the thick head sits inside you, giving your fingers room to work for a moment before he thrusts back in slow and smooth, pinning your fingers against your clit and that simple pressureâitâs enough. Your body bows against him, choked sounds lost against his mouth as he swallows them whole, fucking you so softly through the peak of your pleasure.Â
Simon stiffens not a handful of moments later, cock twitching inside you. The burst of warmth is pleasant, making you shiver. He drops down til his chest presses against your own, careful not to crush you with his weight.Â
âDonât pull out yet.âÂ
His softening cock twitches inside you. All he says is: âAlright.âÂ
You hum, warm and sated. Sleepy. âYou sleeping over?â
âDidnât plan on it,â he murmurs, lips against your shoulder.Â
âBut the walk of shame is a valuable part of the experience.â
ââM not ashamed of fucking you,â he says.Â
Youâre strangely touched. âMe neither.â
âDid you fake it?â he wonders.
âIâm no good at faking,â you admit. He leans up so his eyes can scan your face, looking for any hint of deception. Whatever he finds must satisfy his curiosity because he lowers his head back to rest against your shoulder.Â
He rolls you both onto your sides, and his soft cock slips free with a rush of seed. You make an unhappy sound in the back of your throat. Afterward is always your least favorite part, when you feel so empty.
Simon hushes you as he slips from the bed. âBathroom,â he tells you.Â
âThrough there.â
âNot for me, for you.â
âWhy?â you whine, tired and petulant.Â
âBecause pissing afterward is a valuable part of the experience for you. Can you walk, or did I break you?âÂ
When you donât answer, he grips one of your ankles and pulls you toward the end of the bed. You shriek, rolling onto your belly, but itâs no use. Looping his arm around your waist, he tosses you over his shoulder and carries you to the bathroom like you weigh nothing more than a sack of potatoes, which is patently untrue.Â
âAre you going to watch me go, too?â you ask.Â
âKinky,â he says, already disappearing into the other room.Â
By the time you clean yourself up and take care of any âvaluable post-sex experiencesâ, Simon has dressed himself. His clothes are gone from the floor in your bedroom. You canât help but feel disappointed; a part of you really had been hoping heâd stay. Slipping on your panties and a clean shirt, you chase after him hoping he hasnât left only to find him toying with your spare key at your door.Â
The way he reaches for your hand and draws you to him soothes some of the ache of seeing out. He thumbs your pulse and says: âI have to be ready to leave for work at a momentâs notice or Iâd stay.âÂ
âItâs fine.âÂ
âYouâre lying,â he says, pressing his thumb more firmly against your wrist. âDonât lie to me, or Iâll know. Do you want tonight to happen again?âÂ
âAre you seriously copping a feel of my pulse to see if Iâm being truthful?â
âEvading the question,â he says, clicking his tongue in disapproval. âThanks anyway, for tonight. Iâll see myself out.â
âYes! Alright, yes. Of course I do.âÂ
His mouth quirks upwards, his grin a little crooked thanks to the scar, but no less precious. His thumb strokes softly. âI donât need your pulse to tell when youâre lying. I just like to feel it racing when you look at me.â
You groan, burying your face in his chest. How embarrassing is that?Â
âNext time, Iâll stay,â he promises. âAlright? Repeat it back to me.âÂ
âNext time youâll stay.âÂ
âNext time,â he murmurs softly, turning away. He takes the stairs. Â
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At First Sight PT2
Alastor x doe!reader
PART ONE PART 3
this is a short part 2 to a request, tbh i didnât think about continuing it before so i struggled a bit and itâs quite short! iâm so sorry gang ;-; i hope it satiates yall if not lemme know what i can cook up for you
Warnings: love sick alastor + reader, ooc alastor, mates/soulmate trope, mentions of reproduction and pregnancy (dw yall i didnât do the no no there is no pregnancy itâs just mentioned bc it supposed to be gn), short short, swearing, not proof read, hmmmm i think thatâs it lmk whatcha think
wee little taglist for the people who asked kiss kiss: @fairyv-ice @chirimeimei
Tucked underneath Alastors chin you laid comfortably alongside him in bed. Youâd been awake awhile now tail thumping softly behind you as you watched the demon sleep his smiled soft and barely showing. He laid in pyjama bottoms only chest bare and on display for you. You absentmindedly traced the scars along his torso feeling him respond with goosebumps every now and again.
âGoodmorning my doe,â Alastors voice rang out, killing the silence. It was shocking to hear his static gone and his regular voice out on display, dripped in sleepy sultry. âGood morning my buck.â You reply sickeningly sweet while crawling up to lean over his face, his eyes were lidded now gazing at you with a loving look in his eyes.
âDid you sleep well?â You asked playing with the stray hair that swept across his face. âIndeed darling very well. I should be good for several days.â He chirped happily, ears flicking. âWe should head down, i need to talk to Charlie.â You say with a grimace.
Last night when Charlie caught you and Al, you felt guilty, you knew Charlie was a sweetheart but you practically abandoned her all day for Alastor, then scared her silly with a deal and sex! Groaning you grab your head while Alastor stood. With a snap of his fingers the two of you were dressed, and that did take a load of stress of you. âCome now my doe, Iâll be there the whole time, no shame and if there is weâll be ashamed together!â
Alastor seemed pretty bright in his exclamation holding his arm out to you. Obviously you trusted Al you gave yourself and soul to him and only him just last night. So while attached at the arm the two of you trotted downstairs.
Arriving downstairs interlocked you were both greeted by all the patrons already in the living area next to the bar. Charlie was the first to make a noise gasping, meanwhile Angel was practically vibrating in his seat. Just as Angel was about to talk Vaggie interrupted. âYou made a fucking deal!?â Screamed the fallen angel, hands thrown behind her as the rest of her body lurched forward. Frowning you bit your lip, of course this was gonna be an awkward conversation with Charlie, but with the whole hotel listening. Even worse!
âNeva mind that Vagina! Letâs talk about the real stuff. How big? Seven? Eight? Twelve?! Ouch-â Vaggie knocked Angel over the head with the back of her spear. âYikes alright, twelve is greedyâŠ. ten?â Angel whispered cackling at Vaggie who growled at her. Alastor, obviously unhappy, began to crackle with static, black shadows oozing out from the floor and encompassing the room slowly.
At the sight of Alastorâs figure demonically stretching the room fell silent, you only gazed up at the deer slightly aroused by his stature and the way his antlers screwed out like branches. âYouâre quite the sight.â You say dreamily, barely even noticing you spoke to begin with, Alastorâs head cracked down to you. Coming back to himself Alastor hummed out adoringly, petting your head but wanting to kiss you, unfortunately that was a step too far for him right now.
âUhm anyway, YN, can you please tell me about the deal?â Charlie begged worry on her face as she looked to you and Alastor. You felt the guilt crawl at you again. âI⊠well Iâm not sure why but thereâs just this pull i have to Alastor, he asked me to be his i said yes iâŠâ You veered off feeling too embarrassed by all the eyes, thankfully Alastor pulled you in theatrically waving his microphone around, taking the attention off you.
âWell this lovely doe was just made for me you see? Iâm perfectly capable of protecting such a divine creature and though I don't doubt your ability, princess I'd feel a lot more comfortable being the one to do so.â Alastor fired off sounding like a proper radio host as he did so. Charlie looked confused but then perked up happily.
âThis is thee perfect redeeming quality Alastor, love is so pure! This is great!â As Charlie felt giddy, Vaggie felt suspicious eyeing the red demon. âSo what did you even sell- what was the deal?â You hummed tapping your finger to your lip; well you didnât know, just that you gave yourself to him.
Looking up to Alastor for help here he happily obliged. âWorry not you angry little woman,â Alastor replied, pinching Vaggies cheek, her angrily pushing him off. âThe contract was nothing greater than marriage.â The entire room, yourself included, was surprised at this. You knew this was a soul binding contract, but for him to make that connection on his own was well to you sweet as ever. Your tail flicked happily behind you as you looked to Alastor who returned to your side.
Charlie was as equally as happy as you were, but Vaggie and Husk kept within the same boat of apprehension. âWhy so suddenly?â Asked Vaggie again, but Alastor shrugged her off. âIâm unsure dear, just that i couldnât resist this little doe. Like fate.â Alastor pondered meanwhile you briefly seethed at Alastor for referring to Vaggie as dear.
âMaybe itâs like some soulmate bullshit between deer?â Angel pipped up, putting in his required two cents. Husk groaned at that, but Charlie squeaked jumping up. âThat is totally possible! It happened with my dad! Well, yâknow in the beginning.â Charlie chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. Alastor shook his head rapidly a soft laugh echoing out of him.
âNo way dear, how is that possible?â He mocked bopping Charlie atop the head with his mic, you again werenât happy hearing him call another demon dear, but you let it fly. âWell you both are deer, could it be instinctual?â Charlie reasoned her pitch, giving away her uncertainty.
You hummed looking up towards Alastor to see him already looking down to you. âI think Alastor and I would need to talk about it privately before we have a group conversation about it. Itâs kinda of embarrassing.â You admit already tired of the discussion. Charlie however didnât like the idea of not having an answer, so with a plan in mind she turned to Vaggie. âVaggie can you take them to the library, maybe look some stuff up online? We need to figure this out.â Charlie asked giving Vaggie a look that conveyed this was more of a do this rather than a can you do this.
Nodding her head Vaggie looked at you, who looked at Alastor. Alastor shrugged and muttered he didnât see the issue, so long as you were safe. So you and Vaggie headed off, meanwhile Charlie calmly asked to speak with Alastor in private.
Alone in Alastorâs radio tower, Charlie sat on one side of the broadcasting table while Alastor sat behind it, tunes playing out of him. âSo Al,â Charlie started breathing out a deep breath. âCan you please tell me whatâs going on with the deal, listen i canât have them get hurt! Iâll even make a deal.â Charlie said sadly gazing off, she didnât want to make a deal, but she would.
Alastor watched her, and pitied her odd behaviour. Resting his chin on his hand Alastor sat quietly for a moment, Charlie waiting with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. âIt was nothing malicious that i can assure you. Although, iâm not sure what happened between them and myself, I felt pretty agressive in my feelings to protect them. Of course that private moment between us shouldâve stayed private,â Alastors words were stern as he glared down at Charlie who shrunk bashfully in her seat.
âBut suppose since you know i will confess in that moment of intensity, i did the only thing I knew how to do to my dear. Iâm not particularly good with emotions, and so I simply ensured Iâd have them with a deal.â Tapping his nails on the desk Alastor kept his composure but inside he was scolding himself for even letting that much truth out. Charlie seemed to like the sound of that though, nodding her head in agreement.
âSo you wonât, and you donât have any plans to hurt them?â Alastors ears pinned back subconsciously, he didnât enjoy being accused of cruelty when it came to you, and he didnât know he could be any more truthful. âMy dear i swear, on my mother, not a hair on their pretty doe head, will ever be hurt by me.â Holding his right hand up, head high Alastor watched as Charlie eased into a smile. Nodding at him.
Rejoining the crew downstairs Alastor and Charlie were shocked to see you and Vaggie had returned. âHow come you guys are back so quick?â Vaggie turned at the sound of Charlieâs voice, eyes bugged slightly. âYeah you wonât believe what we found.â Vaggie said handing Charlie a book about demons and mating. Charlie didnât seem too keen on the book âuhsâ immediately falling from her mouth.
You stepped up, opening the book to the checked marked place. âItâs species dependent on how mating affects someone, in this case Doeâs are more of a rarity in hell meaning it was an instinct for the two of us to kinda âmateâ or âbondâ to one another, as if we had to worry about going extinct.â You scoffed watching as Charlie glazed over the words while listening to you. âWeird. It must be because youâre a hellborn and an angel, so technically you can reproduce.â
A record scratch sounded out from Alastor, the lot of you looking towards his stiff figure. âDonât worry Al, weâre pretty sure youâre still unable to.â Charlie hushed to him, before giving you a look that told you, she didnât really know that to be true. You werenât worried though, almost a hundred percent certain that he would not be able to have children. âWelp, at least now we know thatâs a thing,â Angel sighed from the background, Vaggie glaring at him.
Pulling you into his side Alastor grinned his poise returned. âLook at us figuring stuff out why wasnât this just the teamwork we all needed, good job.â Alastor applauded slightly condescending, but Charlie was happy with it nonetheless giving two thumbs up to you and Alastor.
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â twist of fate
This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, marked on your calendar for the best part of a year and the start of a beautiful future. Youâd met the love of your life, the man you were going to marry and grow old with, and youâd made it through navigating the torturous dating scene. The awkward first dates and first kiss, and the first âI love yousâ, and yet here you were drinking on a rooftop with the Number Two Pro-Hero Dynamight.
I promised Iâd post some more Bakugou cause it has been a little while and I do miss him! I actually wrote this for his birthday, but then I ended up posting the collab fic instead so I never got to write the smut part but I hope someone enjoys it anyway.
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.
Warnings: breakups (not with Bakugou), mutual comfort, alcohol.
Word Count: 1.8k.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, marked on your calendar for the best part of a year and the start of a beautiful future. Youâd met the love of your life, the man you were going to marry and grow old with, and youâd made it through navigating the torturous dating scene. The awkward first dates and first kiss, and the first âI love yousâ.
I love youâ what a big fucking lie.
You scoffed as you took a large gulp from the champagne bottle you were holding, grabbed from the bar at your now abandoned reception as you looked out at the view of Musutafu at night. The viewing point was somewhere you used to visit with your fiance, and to think it was the first place youâd decided to go when you found out heâd left you at the altar was borderline morbid. But considering your perfect life had now crumbled around you, you could forgive yourself for the psychological torment.
Kicking your heels off as your feet began to ache, letting them drop to the floor as you swung your legs over the ledge. Your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you sat on the grass, âYour pretty dress is ruined!â Not that youâd have any use for it now, your perfect life was pretty much gone.
âYou know how dangerous it is drinkinâ so close to the edge?â You rolled your eyes in irritation at the sound, turning your head ready to shot some expletives in their direction before your words caught at the back of your throat.
You had to do a double take to make sure you were actually seeing what you were seeing, and that you werenât this inhibriated already. The Number Two Pro-Hero Dynamight stood a few feet away, arms crossed with his face set in a a heavy glare. But he didnât appear to have his gauntlets with him, even though his belt was still full of grenades and his mask sat over his eyes. Instead he was covered in a thick black hoodie that was zipped to cover the garish orange X that splashed across his chest.
âWell it must be my lucky night, Iâve got a Pro-Hero here to save me.â Sarcasm oozed through your tone as you held your large bottle up in a mock cheers to the Number Two hero that had appeared over the hill.
Besides the randy teenagers that used to frequent the area to make out and get high, this side of Musutafu was usually pretty abandoned so you were disappointed to see you were no longer alone.
âIâm off the clock, sweetheart.â He sneered back, shaking his head, âAnd I shouldnât have to waste my time saving stupid people like you.â
âSo donât save me then,â You shrugged, turning back to face the city as the sun slowly fell over the horizon.
You expected him to walk away and leave you there, probably on a patrol to catch the kids that used the area to get high. But what you didnât expect is for him to take a seat in the dirty grass beside you.
âThought you couldnât waste your time.â
âHowâs it gonna look if I see your face all over the papers tomorrow with my face under it sayinâ I shouldâa saved you?â
You turned to face him, noticing the dark rings of charcoal around his eyes filled in from where his mask sat. A three-day strubble cast a shadow across his jawline and you had to take another sip of champagne to pull your attention away.
âI didnât think you cared what the media said about you, Dynamight.â You laughed, remembering a post youâd seen online earlier that month where heâd shoved a reporter to the ground at the scene of a crime and broke his camera.
âI donât.â He scoffs, âBut I ainât a total fucking asshole.â
âCouldâve fooled me,â You laugh, gulping another mouthful of champagne as you look down at the city lights below, âYou make it your business to go around breaking cameras?â
âVery fuckinâ funny.â Bakugou sneers, âThat guy deserved it. Tryinâ to take pictures in the middle of a fightâ heâs lucky I saved him or heâd have come out far worse than his shitty camera.â
âWow, youâre a real hero, Dynamight.â You teased back.
âSo you gonna explain why youâre up here inââ
âOh, why am I wearing a wedding dress and drinking alone?â You smiled bitterly, shaking your head. âMy fiancĂ© decided to stick his dick into my best friend.â
Bakugouâs eyes widened beneath this mask at the blunt statement before he shook his head, keeping his attention ahead to the bright lights in front of you.
âShit.â He muttered beneath his breath.
You scoff, taking another swig of champagne, âSo I guess you could say Iâm celebrating.â
âThatâs rough.â He reached up to scratch at his stubble before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
âSo why are you up here, Mr Number Two?â You smile, âNot got any babies to save from burning buildings? Or camera men to hitââ
âShut the fuck up.â He scoffed, his nose scrunched in irritation before his face paled.
You thought perhaps he might get up and leave after your bold question but instead he sniffed, using the outside of his wrist to rub his nose before looking across at the city.
âA villain attacked a building just outside Musutafu tonight,â He muttered hoarsely, âI didnât get there in time.â
âShitâ Iâm so sorry,â You immediately stammered, feeling like such an asshole. Your problems were miniscule in proportion to this, âI didnât meanââ
âItâs fine,â He shakes his head, âI wouldâa never made it, but it still fuckinâ sucks, you know?â
âYeah,â You murmured back. How could you even comfort someone for something like that? There werenât enough words in the world that would convey the empathy you felt for him, and the victims.
âI just needed to get away for a bit.â He rasped.
âMe too,â You smiled, âI was sick of everyone looking at me with pity.â
Your family and bridesmaids had been suffocating after it happened, pulling you into their arms and drowning you in faux sympathy.
âOh my god, I couldnât imagine that ever happening to me.â
âItâs okay youâre such a strong person, you can do so much better.â
âIf my husband ever did this I donât know what Iâd do.â
âIâm glad this came out now and not at my wedding.â
âSuch a waste of a pretty dress.â
It was all the same bullshit as you listened to your friends slowly start to make it about themselves while your world crumbled down around youâ So you left, thankful you hadnât bothered to bring your phone as you were left to your own devices.
You offer the champagne bottle out to Bakugou as he stared down at it for a moment before taking it. Adjusting it in one large fist around the base of it before taking a large swig.
âIf it means anything, it seems like heâs the fuckinâ idiot for cheating on you.â He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he passed the bottle back, âOnly a real piece of shit leaves his missus on her wedding day.â
His words still managed to have your heart fluttering. You werenât naive, you knew he was only trying to be nice, especially when thick black lines of eyeliner and mascara smudged in tear stains down your cheeks. Your lipstick faded around your lips and stuck to the neck of your champagne bottle, and your hair was now a complete mess from where youâd ripped out your veil, and still he managed to have you smiling as you couldnt stop the grin that spread across your cheeks.
âHow long were they fuckinâ?â He asked, and you appreciated the bluntness of it.
âSix months,â You shook your head, âApparently they got close planning the wedding.â
âShit, thatâs fucked up.â He shook his head, reaching back for the champagne bottle as you watched him take another drink. Certain your lipstick was pressed against his chapped lips now as you shared the same bottle.
âYep,â You rolled the âpâ, âAnd apparently he spent the night with her after the rehearsal too,â You sighed, âI just canât believe I didnât see the signs.â
âAinât any of this thatâs your fault,â He shook his head, taking another swig of champagne before handing the bottle back to you, âAnd thinkinâ like that will eat you up inside.â
âCould say the same thing to you, Dynamight.â
âI didnât say it didnât suck,â He shook his head, âAnd call me Bakugou, I ainât workinâ.â
âIâm glad to hear the Number Two hero doesnât drink on the jobâ fuck.â
You shivered as a gust of wind swirled through the vantage point, reminding you of your outfit as youâd left the venue without a suitable coat. Hugging your arms around your body to try and stop your teeth from chattering as you drank more champagne, hoping the alcohol would warm your veins.
You heard a zip to the side of you and before you could object, Bakugou was shrugging his hoodie off to wrap it around your bare shoulders.
âDonât worry about me, youâll get coldââ
âShaddup,â He cut you off, taking the champagne bottle back off you so that you could slip your hands through the arms, âJust take it, woman.â
You were immediately surrounded by warmth, his body heat still radiated from the fabric as you breathed in the scent of him. A mixture of ash, smoke and cologne as you pulled it tighter around your frame.
Bakugou pulled his hero mask up over his eyes to let it sit on his forehead, his messy hair now spiking upwards as he rubbed his eyes with the ball of his palm. The dark eyeliner around them smearing against his skin as he breathed a relaxed sigh, taking another drink as he turned his attention back to the view in front of him.
âYouâre quite pretty actually,â You smiled at him, âThe media always get you pulling the ugliest faces.â
âHah?â He turned to you with a raised brow, his nose scrunched in irritation, âThatâs still my fuckinâ face you know.
âYeah, and Iâm saying itâs really pretty.â You definitely blamed the alcohol flowing through your veins for giving you this level of confidence, certain the words would never have left your lips if you were sober.
âI ainât ever been called pretty before.â He scoffed.
âI dunno why notâ because itâs true.â You smiled.
âI ainât the pretty one out of us two, sweetheart. Trust me.â
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