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thexsilentxwordsmith · 7 months ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I was planning on having more out this week, but storms here where I live have set me back a bit in getting things out due to power constantly going down. I'm behind, but I promise things are still coming. We have the steamy risking it without protection fic and the angsty Truth or Dare part 6 coming, so stay tuned!

Lt. Riley doesn’t really want to be here, stuck in the middle of the loud, crowded bar right off base on his night off and yet here he is amidst it all. Just wanted to, he will repeat if pushed for an answer as to why he’s come out and a part of him might even mean it, at least that is what he will try to convince himself of because he can’t accept that he knows it’s a lie.

A strong grip wrapped around his glass from his large hand, he brings his bourbon to his lips as those brown eyes scan the place from within the recesses of his thinner black balaclava that he wears when back in civility. His dark eyes are constantly on the move to disguise their true target, flitting from Soap to Garrick to whoever else is speaking around the small group of tables the taskforce has claimed for the evening only to dart back to one person: you.

He eyes you across the bar chatting up some bloke with mid length black hair and a prominent neck tattoo, smiling and giggling in what looks to be a lively conversation of shared interests and it makes his blood pressure rise until he can feel the heat in his face. Lucky for him that the mask conceals enough, only being pulled up from time to time for him to take a drink or grab a quick smoke.

For whatever reason you both have never really gotten along with one another, even from day one. There is something about your personalities that just does not mix, a tension that always leads to an argument. Maybe it is the similarities in your natures, maybe it is because you aren’t afraid to speak out where he is more subdued and calculated. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, whenever you are in proximity it is like trying to force gasoline and fire to coexist in the same place without causing destruction. Sure, you can both be professional in the right setting, force yourselves to work together for a common goal as sergeant and lieutenant and you are good at it, but once the threat is gone and you are back on safe ground, the feud ramps right back up.

So it surprises you when the lieutenant immediately agrees to tag along tonight. He usually isn’t too keen on this type of rowdy fun, preferring quieter company, but over the past couple of months it seems like wherever it is you find yourself he is never too far away. It is a free country and he can do as he damn well please, even though it is obvious the way his stare keeps coming back to you.

He may have everyone else fooled, but not you, no. There is no mistaking the feeling you get whenever his gaze falls on you.

You have noticed it more and more in the past couple of weeks the way that somber glare subtly finds you when you are near. Clearly you are doing something right to piss him off and there is something euphoric about forcing his attention to constantly stick to you. Why not play it up? Maybe you like the idea of making him watch as you finally score.

You hope it makes him seethe to see you happy.

Those dark eyes stick to you for a couple hours until finally he has caught what he has been waiting for. He follows your form as you get up from your seat and make your way over towards the bathrooms. He can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity and before you have even let the bathroom door shut behind you, the lieutenant is already on his feet and drawing down his mask as he stalks towards the bastard you were just chatting up a second ago with only one goal in mind.

The same goal he has had for months now anytime you start to get too close to anyone.

Your mystery man has just brought the neck of his beer bottle up and put it to his lips when the shadow from the lieutenant’s large stature casts over the table he is still sitting at. As he looks up he is met with the most intimidating face he has ever seen staring right back at him. The firm stance mixed with the glare in the lieutenant’s eyes within the skull mask gives the man pause and the confidence he once had slips away as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I help…?” the dark-haired man barely gets out before he is cut off as the lieutenant steps up to him.

“That bird you’re talkin’ to just a moment ago,” Lt. Riley says, his thick British accent deep and viciously harsh from the very first syllable; he’s only got a few minutes to get this done. “Ya best leave ‘er alone if ya know what’s good for ya.”

The man swallows hard trying not to choke as he is caught off-guard by the intense hostility that has seemingly come out of nowhere. “Dude, if she’s with you I’m sorry, I didn’t know. She’s the one that approached me, honest,” he chokes out his apologies, hoping that it will be enough not to get his face bashed in by this hulking specimen of a man.

Lt. Riley ignores his comment and leans down closer to his face, his stare sharp and cruel as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. His fingers dig in hard until the man winces. “Don’t let me catch ya talkin’ to ‘er anymore tonight, got it? Cause if I gotta come over again you’re gonna wish I didn’t and by then it’ll be too fuckin’ late for ya. I’ll make sure ta put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Do ya understand?”

Eyes wide in fear, the man slowly nods; there is no need to be told twice, not from a man like this. He knows the type of guys that frequent the bar as the military base is not but a few minutes from here and he isn’t looking to get pulverized by a trained professional. A slight tremble in his hand, the man grabs his beer bottle and takes off into the bar with a worried look on his face.

Lt. Riley watches as the man hides himself behind a large group standing around the L-shaped bar near the bartender and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him as he heads back to his own table to finish his drink, content that once again he has succeeded in his mission. It’s not even a couple minutes that pass before the corner of his vision catches a familiar figure exiting the bathroom and heading back to the table he had just left from.

You return to your seat only to find your new friend nowhere to be found. Looking around, you second guess yourself that this isn’t where you are supposed to be, but this is your table; your rum and coke is still right where you had left it. You take your seat and pick up your drink; it’s possible that he had just scurried off somewhere and would be back any second. But as the time passes with no man in sight, frustration begins to wash over you as you realize that this shit is happening again.

It’s been months since you’ve been able to have your needs met by something other than your fingers and for some strange reason no matter how good things seem to be going, it ends in you getting ghosted. Why? Even the few times you’ve had encounters on base the guys you had flirted with for days suddenly go cold and avoid you like the plague.

Is there something wrong with me? you question yourself silently.

Across the way, Lt. Riley downs the last swig of bourbon in his glass, setting it back on the tabletop gently as he situates his mask back down. He doesn’t say a word or offer a goodbye, opting to silently slip out from his seat unnoticed to head outside with a smirk contorting his lips beneath the fabric covering his mouth.

He has gotten what he wanted…well, not all. There is still something else that eats away at him, a specter at the back of his mind, and even as he convinces himself that he is only doing this to make you mad it still lays there in waiting.

Back at your empty table, you finish your own drink and are about to call it a night when you spot your potential lover tucked away at the far end of the bar, hunched down in his seat. It’s odd the way he is sitting; it almost looks like he is trying to avoid being spotted, but that can’t be right, can it? Moving your way through the noisy crowd of people, you make it over to him.

“Thought I lost you,” you say cheerfully and watch him choke into his drink.

He coughs a few times before he is able to get it under control and speak. “Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says. His response is quick and dismissive as he sets his bottle down and turns to leave, but you are determined to at least get some feedback as none of this is making sense.

You block his path with your stance and watch as his whole body tenses. “Did something happen? I thought we were having a nice time.”

The man uneasily looks around the area, searching for something that he ends up not being able to find, but that only alleviates some of the tension in his brows. “Look,” he says as he turns his attention back to you, “you’re really nice and all, but I’m not interested in getting my head caved in tonight, okay?”

Your cheerful expression falls. “What are you talking about?” you ask in confusion.

He takes a breath; he needs to get out of this conversation fast. “Some big masked guy came over while you were gone and threatened to put me in the ground if I didn’t leave you alone, so that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t know if he’s your ex or something, but I don’t want any part of that,” he confirms. “So, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna get out of here before he comes back.”

You want to convince him to stay, that there is nothing going on that he needs to worry about, that it’s just your vindictive lieutenant trying to ruin your night, but the way he is shaken up you know there is no stopping him. All you can do is defeatedly watch him walk away as you say goodbye at any chance you had at getting laid tonight.

But this encounter isn’t completely useless; with his revelation things begin to add up now. All this time you thought it was you who scared off your potential lovers somehow, that there was something wrong with you that kept driving them away, but no. It is Lt. Riley who is going around threatening people to stay away from you, you are sure of it now.

And that makes you see red. What even is his endgame? Things have always been tense between you two, but this is going too far. You need to find out why and now because this is becoming unbearable. He has messed with your life long enough without your knowledge; tonight it is all going to end.

You turn your head back over to where the lieutenant had been seated and you spot his glass still sitting on the table. He couldn’t have left that long ago if his empty cup hasn’t even been cleared yet; if you leave right now and hurry, you probably will catch him. Quickly getting the bartender’s attention you pay your tab and immediately head out into the night ready to get your answers.

Each step makes your heartbeat pound a little faster the closer you get to base. Fueled by the uninhibited state you find yourself in from of the couple of drinks you had, you don’t want the moment to dissipate; you need your anger to power your words so that your lieutenant knows just how far over the line he has crossed.

You make it back on base and head in the direction of the barracks, passing by the dark offices and other buildings that are seemingly empty for the night. It’s late so there are not many places he can be and soon you can see them come into view. That is when you catch a figure leaning against the brick, the light from a cigarette glowing orange dimly in the shadow and you know you have him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you spit the venom-filled words to him as you come to stand at his side, arms crossing tightly across your chest as you stop.

The lieutenant ignores you, keeping his face straight ahead as he brings his cigarette up to his lips, ignoring your presence like you aren’t even there as he takes a long drag. The audacity he has to disregard you completely after all he’s been up to behind your back makes your blood boil over and you react fast. Instantly you reach out and rip the dwindling cig out of his fingers to flick it angrily to the ground; only then does he acknowledge your existence.

“Don’t know what your fuckin’ on ‘bout princess,” he grumbles as he pulls out the pack of smokes from his jeans pocket and takes out another cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he lights it up and takes a few short puffs to get it going.

Christ, did you fucking hate when he calls you that, all condescending and shit and he knows it too. That’s why he always uses it, just to watch the way it makes your skin prickle and your pulse race as it riles you up…just like it’s doing right now.

Your cheeks are burning red hot with your anger and you know by the feeling alone that it is visible even in the low light. “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you accuse. “Thought you could ruin my fun and I would just never hear about it, did you? Well, guess what, I did. Guess you didn’t intimidate the guy back at the bar as good as you thought ‘cause he told me all about how you threatened him into staying away from me and now things around here are starting to make sense.”

So, pretty boy talked after all that scaring he had done; fucking hell, he wasn’t planning on being found out tonight. He can’t deal with this right now; he needs to get away before this gets out of hand. “I’m not doin’ this right now,” he mutters as he flicks away his second cigarette and begins to walk off.

You are right on his heels. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” you say as you quickly follow him as he takes off inside to a random room not far from the entrance. You barely register anything about the place, only caring about making sure you are on the right side of the door so he can’t lock you out until you’ve said your peace.

Slamming the door, you press your back up against it. There is nowhere for him to go, not with how you are blocking the exit and it is clear that you won’t be leaving. Goddammit, why tonight? The lieutenant isn’t drunk, but he still has enough liquor running through his veins and he is weary of being alone with you.

You aren’t going to let him be, though; your anger won’t let you. “Well, you got anything to say or are you going to stay silent like a fucking coward?” you ask pointedly.

His fist at his side clenches and unclenches to match his jaw beneath the mask. Gasoline and fire; he can’t stop himself from matching your energy. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? It was me. You’re distractin’, sergeant,” he says, that heavily accented voice harsh with his assertions. “Throwin’ yourself ‘round like a bloody slag ‘tween the men here and at the bar. Ya like that? Being a cheap piece a meat? Ya think that’s a good look for your rank on this team, hmm?”

You shake your head with a forced incredulous laugh before turning your gaze back to him. The only person who is ever allowed to make decisions about your actions is you; whatever you choose to do or not do isn’t up for debate with any outside party. “What I do on my own time is none of your goddamn business. If I want to screw every member of this operation, I will. If I want to fuck a rando from the bar, so be it. It’s my choice and you need to stay out of it.”

It’s a lie, you have no intention of becoming some barracks bunny, but that doesn’t make the point any less true. There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship from time to time and you aren’t going to let him take that from you. This job is hard enough as it is. Still you can’t shake the question that is floating around in your head.

Why does he care so much to go to all this trouble? Why not just stay away?

The Lt. peers down his nose at you, those striking amber eyes looking at you through the opening in his balaclava to give him a dangerous appearance as they are cloaked in shadow. Standing in front this beast of a man has left many shaking in their boots, but not you, never you. Fuck him if he thinks this bit of intimidation is going to do anything; it’s not.

“It is my goddamn business,” he growls. “Ya talk a big fuckin’ game, but ya don’t know what the hell your doin’. Gonna get yourself in trouble one a these days.”

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for me is that it?” you ask. “I don’t need a savior. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Even he can’t deny that you can handle whatever it is that comes your way. He has worked beside you for quite a while now and there is a reason you were selected to this task force in the first place. No, it isn’t his need to protect that causes him to put himself where he doesn’t belong, but he can’t face the truth; he can’t…can he?

“Besides, what the hell do you care, Lt.?” you spit the question harshly into his face to break him out of his thoughts. “Just like to screw with my life as a part of some goddamn powerplay? You got nothing else better to do than fuck everything up? Pathetic, even for you.”

The lieutenant’s jaw shifts as his dark eyes are silhouetted within the confines of his mask silently stare back into your own. There is a glint in their depths, a catch of the light that makes them glisten as he locks your vision in that stoic glare.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone there, princess,” he warns as he moves in closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, you’re gonna get fuckin’ burned. Ya best quit it now or else.”

Taking your pointer finger, you lean forward and poke the tip of the digit directly onto his sternum over his t-shirt and push down. “Make me.”

Hearing those two deadly words come from your mouth while being this close with emotions this high makes his brain short-circuit and he scrambles to get control of the thoughts at the back of his mind; no, he can’t let them get out. For a split second you catch a flash of something in his gaze that gives you pause and leaves you with a strange but familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach before it is gone just as fast as it came on.

Flustered and confused, you don’t notice that his hand has moved from his side until it is wrapped around your wrist as he wrenches yours off his chest and smacks it against the door, pinning it there next to your head. “You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now,” he threatens as he gets into your face. “Keep it up and see what happens.”

The lieutenant is so close now the sensation from the warm air leaving his mouth is felt against the lower half of your face even through the fabric of his mask. You can smell the bite from the tobacco and liquor as he exhales a weighty, ragged breath. There is a curious tension permeating the space now, filling the area around your bodies until your chest begins to ache with anticipation for something you can’t put into words.

What are you wanting to happen? You aren’t entirely sure you want to admit it, but still there is a growing impatience that makes your limbs tingle as you wait for the moment to break. “You’re not going to do shit,” you scoff. “I haven’t been touched in fucking months and it’s all your fault; you think I care about showing you respect? The way I see it, you have two options: either leave me the fuck alone or I make your life a waking nightmare until you do.”

Why aren’t you shoving him away? Your wrist is still gripped in his fist and yet you haven’t even tried to free it. Sure, your words are ruthless and heated, but you’re still here and he doesn’t understand what is happening. The atmosphere is shifting and he can feel it like a perplexing magnetism, a push and pull that he is finding harder and harder to fight off. He needs you to leave and quickly as he isn’t sure how long he can last under this growing torment.

“Ya best get out, now,” he growls under his breath. “It ain’t a good idea for you to be here anymore.”

His threat does little to make you back down and instead you tilt your head with a cocky smirk on your lips. “Why’s that? Can’t take the fact that someone can actually stand up to you?”

“Not that,” he says curtly.

“Then what?” you push him for the answer.

Lt. Riley stays closemouthed to your question. How the hell is supposed to answer that when your pulse is pounding through your veins and he can count the rapid beats through his palm that is around your wrist? He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves the feeling of it.

The silence is heavy and dangerous, too much and you aren’t sure what is going to happen, but you can’t leave with nothing; one of the many questions you have has to get a response at least. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that one I’m not gonna make you, but if you want me to leave you are going to have to give me something. I’ll go back to my original question: why do you care about any of this?”

The lieutenant is suffocating on the strength of the tension shared between you. It’s intoxicating, more than the whiskey he’s consumed tonight. Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from wanting more and suddenly the fingers on his free hand are lightly grazing along the waistband of your jeans in that sliver of space between your shirt and your pants where just a millimeter of skin can connect with his touch. It’s too late for him now; he can’t let you go.

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat at the electricity of the contact. The longer his touch lingers on your body the more disoriented your thoughts become until you aren’t sure what is happening. You desperately want to slap him, shove him off and storm out, but a secret part of you that has started to glow like a tiny ember in your chest quietly begs for him to keep going.

Why can’t you tell him to stop?

“I can’t let anyone get to ya,” he murmurs with a labored inhale. “Don’t care what it costs.” Those hazel eyes with their blown out pupils never break the connection with yours as his fingers draw a line over your warm, soft skin and suddenly it’s near impossible to pull in enough air to keep you sane.

“Why?” you ask. “Hate to see me enjoying myself? Just want to keep me miserable, is that it?”

Those rough, thick fingers risk a bit more as they slip ever so slightly up so that his palm can rest against the meat of your hip and that’s where he stops. His gaze drifts down just a moment to admire how far his touch has gotten. This is the closest you both have ever been in the time you’ve known each other and it is overwhelming.

A shift in his stance, a half step in closer, his hand still resting against that soft, balmy flesh, and is that the pounding beat of your heart you hear pulsing in your ears? You need him to say something, anything, in hopes that it will break the spell that is making you more delirious by the minute.

“Say it!” you demand as you wrestle with the flood of sensations.

His eyes drift back to your face. “ ‘cause,” he says, that gruff, masculine voice making his words firm, “if I can’t fuckin’ ‘ave ya, then no one can.”

The confession knocks the wind from your lungs and you struggle to intake a breath. This has to be a new game he’s playing at; that’s it, a new tactic to make you lose your shit and destroy you in new ways. There’s no way he is serious, right? You study his gaze for any sign of deception, for him to crack and mock you for falling for it, but all that meets you is a fervent stare that makes your body burn.

“Fucking bastard,” you snarl as your resolve to break away from him slips silently away.

“Slag,” he responds.

A few seconds drag on into eternity as you stare back into those dark eyes, your heartbeats racing faster and faster with each labored breath you intake from one another. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, you are supposed to hate each other, but is that really what it is?

You’re the only one who has always treated him like a person, not some monster to be feared. It’s true you fight and bicker and drive each other mad at times, but not once have you ever backed down from him. You’re headstrong and steadfast in yourself and that is something he respects. And more than that, he desires.

His words, why do they sound so good? If it was anyone else you would have slapped them silly and told them to fuck off, but the way he covets you feels like ecstasy. You enjoyed his attention before and now that you have all of it, it’s all you could ever want. There is an ache in you now that can only be quenched one way and that is from him.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins blurs that thin line between hatred and desire until it no longer exists. As if another is piloting his body he cannot stop. All at once something snaps and before you can fully comprehend the action, he is shoving his body into yours as his hand wraps around your throat. A wall of massive, bulky muscle presses tightly into your curves, pinning you to the surface as he wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips and grabbing your face between his hands, those large, rough things that have more experience holding a weapon than something soft and tender within them, he meets your mouth with an insatiable intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

Things you’ve both buried deep rise to the surface as the dam breaks wide open, feelings that you both had suppressed under the guise of hatred because you couldn’t…no, you wouldn’t admit that maybe there was something there. It all comes pouring out into the kiss with a feverish urgency as you unsuccessfully scramble to contain them.

There is no restraining this fire of desire from catching you both ablaze.

Lt. Riley’s grip is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn as the brunt of his need is forced upon your lips until they sting the harder he presses into you while the stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth. The taste of the bourbon that he had been imbibing all night is on his breath, crisp and sharp as it hits your tongue with its bite, but it does nothing to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace and matching it with your own.

You want him tighter against you still and your hands run up the back of his head through the cropped bits of hair that have popped out from below the edge of his pulled up mask. The feeling of your fingers running through the short hairs near his neck as you bear down on his mouth make that hulking military man shudder and you sigh delightedly into him at the reaction.

Is it really that easy to make that big man fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him.

Strong fingertips jab themselves into your hip so that he can pull your pelvis flush against his while he shoves his boot between your feet to pry your legs apart, widening your stance so that he can fit his bulky thigh between them. The curve of your hip is accentuated by the position and he runs a heavy hand across the length of it as he pushes up against your pussy and you both gasp into each other’s mouths from the feeling.

That instant pressure against that gnawing ache in your clit has you grinding on his thigh. “Christ, Simon,” his name falls from your lips onto his while you cling to his neck to hold your body up as you push down on him as hard as you can to get enough friction through your clothing. He lets you have at it, using his leg however you see fit until you can feel the gathering moisture in the crotch of your panties.

“Do you even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he growls, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tastebuds as he shoves his tongue into your mouth past your lips to meet your own so that they can dance.

He has a taste for you now, a craving that cannot be quenched, an insatiable hunger that eats him alive. And he needs more.

Catching your bottom lip, he sucks it in between his teeth to give it a fierce nip that smarts, but you like the pain; it only makes you feel more alive as the aggressive nature of your attraction makes you feel like you are drowning.

“Fuck, need it now,” you demand desperately. “Where can we go?”

The question makes him pause and Simon pulls from your mouth to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. “Ya know where we are, dontcha?” he teases.

Your eyes drift from him and really look at your surroundings for the first time since you got in here; you are in a bedroom, not just a random room like you thought. There is a small chest of drawers beside a bed not far from where you stand and on top is laying that familiar hard shell skull mask.

You’re in his room.

“Shut up,” you breathe. “Just fuck me already, bastard.”

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says with a smirk before he is back on your mouth again.

Coarse hands desperately paw at your clothes as softer ones claw at his, undoing buttons, pulling off shirts, shoving down pants; a flurry of lips caressing while limbs frantically move until both of you stand bare naked before each other. The last is his mask that he removes himself; he is about to be inside of, there is no need to hide from you anymore.

You barely have time to take in his striking features: that strong jaw accentuated with old, faded scars, that prominent nose, that stern brow, before two strong arms pick you up and carry you the few short steps to his bed, forcing you down and shoving you onto your back so that you are pressed down against the surface as he clambers on top with you. His hands part your legs like warm butter and he keeps them spread as he positions himself on his knees between your thighs.

Quickly he leans over to the short chest of drawers and flings open the bottom most one, reaches inside, and grabs a small, square packet. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he brings it to his lips and grabs it with his teeth, shredding the top to pull out the rubber. He tosses the packaging to the floor and in one swift motion, slips the condom over the fat tip of his girthy cock and rolls it down the long shaft.

That is it, without another sound he sits back up and clenches his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers hold onto the meat of your hips as he makes sure he is aligned with your entrance. “Ready, princess?” he asks through short, quick breaths.

Your hands grip into his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking and get inside me,” you order aggressively.

The tip of his cock is prodding against your opening and you are panting with anticipation as you wait to feel it break through the threshold. It’s right there, right at the point you need it to be to give you the relief you’ve been seeking after the months of agony during your dry spell. Then all at once Simon’s hips rock forward and the head slips inside, stretching you wide open.

You gasp and buck your hips as he gathers the strength for another thrust to slip it in a little more; you are taking him so well. God, he could not ask for more. One more strong thrust and his cock rips into you deep until he reaches the base, bottoming out with a loud, guttural moan.

“N-nh… ah…” Simon groans as he twitches from the constriction around him. “Fuckin’ hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

Breathing through the intense feeling of being stuffed full you roll your hips into him to send shock waves of ecstasy through his shaft and his head falls forward to hang limply as he attempts to calm himself enough that he doesn’t blow his load right here and now just from that initial contact.

“Gimme a second,” he growls, but you shake your head.

“No,” you say, “waited too long for this.”

You will be the death of him and what a fucking sublime death it will be.

Fine, if you want fast and rough that is what you are going to fucking get. He holds on tight as he begins to pound into you hard, making you bounce with the force of his thrusts up and down as he takes you at this unyielding pace. You are anything but fragile and he uses that to his advantage to be as animalistic as he wants.

The longer he drills his cock into you in that relentless tempo the more lost in the feeling he gets until he is completely ravenous only for the sensation of your body. He has waited so long for this, dreamt endlessly of this, yearned in secret for months for this, and it feels exhilarating to finally have it.

His primal grunts fill the room the harder he gets and you are suddenly swept up in it all as your needs are finally being met. You lose yourself in the moment, whimpering and whining as the euphoria washes over your body to make your limbs tingle. Soon you are so loud that you are surely going to draw unwanted attention.

Reaching out his fingers find your lips and roughly he pries them apart so he can shove two of those thick digits inside your mouth. “Keep quiet,” he grunts as he continues to thrust. “Don’t need anyone hearin’ us before I’ve finished with ya.”

Getting you quiet, he needs something for himself and he knows just the thing. Leaning down over your body, his hot mouth latches on to the side of your throat just below your ear and you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig into the supple flesh. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. A token of who has claimed you.

And he is going to make sure it sticks.

It is a while before he unlatches his mouth and when he does he brings his lips up from your throat to your ear to fill your mind with only his voice as his hand finds the top of your pussy so that his finger can stroke over your clit. You’re gonna come and you’re gonna come hard if he has anything to do with it. “Look at ya, fallin’ apart just for me, princess. God, I wanna fuckin’ ruin ya.”

Simon pulls his fingers out of your mouth so that he can kiss your raw lips, making you swallow all his desperation until you are gasping for air. “I’d do whatever it takes just have ya all to myself,” he says, the words husky in his throat as he groans them into your mouth. “Need ya to belong to me and only me.”

Simon leaves your mouth to sit up higher, taking the pressure off his knees and pulling your body up slightly with him, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of your bodies at the point of their union and fuck is it a beautiful sight. The way he disappears inside of you is mesmerizing and he doesn’t want to look away, but he also needs you to see it. You need to know how both your bodies are made for each other.

His hand moves to the back of your neck and tilts your face down. “Look at how well your gorgeous body takes me. Do ya think anyone else can give ya this?”

Your dreamy gaze drifts lower between both of your bodies and stares at Simon’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles as they contract and release with each thrust, his hips plowing into you, filling you up completely as each of his thrusts go down to the very base of his shaft. Your mind is in a daze as you feel him hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again before his shaft reappears covered more and more with your juices over the condom.

There is something so primal about watching his cock slip in and out of your tight body, watching as you slowly fall into oblivion.

His amber eyes catch yours and he smirks. Your cheeks are flushed bright and it thrills him to know that it is because of how he makes your body feel. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a picture wrapped ‘round my cock like this,” he groans, his strokes becoming more sloppy as the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt get louder.

The longer he thrusts the more his sanity wanes until there is not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he comes. You can see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrills you more as he becomes a hunter ready to catch his prey; it makes you shiver.

“Ya like the way my cock feels inside ya, dontcha?” he asks in a low growl. “Fillin’ ya full, stretchin’ ya out. Ya think anyone else can give it to ya like this? Ya think anyone else is gonna make ya come as hard as I’m gonna fuckin’ make ya? This pussy is gonna belong ta me after I’m done with it.”

Ragged, broken moans escape your lips while your hips rut up to meet him at the height of each thrust as his voice begins to push you over. Your hands around his shoulders tense and as he strikes into you again your nails dig in, raking across his back in angry red lines that tingle and burn as you drag them down over his muscles. Oh, you are definitely close.

“Ya gonna come for me, princess?” he teases mercilessly, desperately clinging to you as he too is about to spill and wanting you to go first. “Do it then. Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The way this beast of a man is wrapped around your body, you are completely at his mercy, his size letting him do with you as he pleases and you have no say whatsoever. And yet here he is furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingertip strokes at your clit; he is doing his utmost to get you off even though he could leave you high and dry at any moment.

Never have you ever wanted someone to take away your power more than you want him to right now.

Your hands leave his body only to gather in the sheets, gripping them so tight you can hear threads popping and feel the strain on your fingers. Each slam of that throbbing cock into you causes the warmth to grow in your stomach, each second that passes the pressure gets stronger and stronger. Finally at long last, you fall completely silent and with a few more desperate thrusts that pressure is released and shoots through you white hot as you come hard and fast.

Simon continues to grind into your pussy through your whimpers as he lets himself go and within a few more seconds he too is falling over that ledge, his torso shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he pumps all that built up frustration into the tip of the condom inside you. His hips buck and are punctuated with deep groans until he has nothing left to release and he slowly comes to a stop, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs to help him catch his breath again.

You both stay locked that way as you calm yourselves back down from the high, your legs trembling around his waist, the sound of his inhales the only thing to break the quiet that falls over the room. Once he is able to he pulls out and falls down onto the bed beside you.

Moving onto your side, you look over at him with a smirk. “Well, shit, never would have expected that,” you mutter sleepily.

He turns his head to face you. “Is that right?” he asks in that low, gravely tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “As if you haven’t been flauntin’ yourself to keep my attention. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes for months now,” you push back. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Reaching out his arm, his fingers lock into your hair, tying it into a ponytail in his grip before he gives it a strong tug. “Yeah well we’re gonna change that. Cause I wanna be the only person ya look at, princess,” he says harshly so you know he means business, “the only one that holds your attention, the only that gets ta be in your ‘ead. I’m gonna be the only one that gets between your legs and no one else; I wanna be the one that knows just how ta make ya fall apart. And any bastard that tries to get in my way is going to fuckin’ get it.”

You chuckle. “Possessive much,” you say snarkily only to receive a solid tug on your hair.

“Absolutely gonna be selfish with ya,” he returns as he brings your face in closer, “cause I would rather fuckin’ die than watch anyone else take this away from me.”

Pulling your head to him, Simon licks the smile from his lips before latching onto your mouth one last time. Maybe you two can find common ground after all…can’t be too mad at each other when you’re making each other orgasm.

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kosije · 1 year ago

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c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel x fem!afab reader. smut. all smut. miguel tries to exercise restraint. spoiler alert: he fails. sins in silk extra <3

duke!miguel o'hara: who enjoys taking you in the most compromising of places.

he'll fuck you in the garden, behind the tall bushes of flowers taunting you on how loud you're getting.

"oh princess, i don't think it would fool anyone if they heard the flowers calling my name. if you can't bite your tongue, even the k-kingdom next door will hear of this."

"heavens," he groans. "i bet you'd like that, huh? want everyone to know how you have the best fucking cunt, yeah?" he all but moans into the back of your neck. "too bad it's all for me."

he'll excuse himself from the table just to eat you out inside the kitchen storage room, away from your father, his colleagues, and the cooks.

messily making out with your puffy pussy, moaning into your mound when your hand pulls on his hair. "m' baby needs 't don't she?" he slurs like a drunk man. his large hands wrap around, digging into the meat of your thighs only to pull himself in deeper. you're having trouble keeping your voice down, but thankfully the kitchen is a mess of noise and masks your low mewls and his groans completely.

he sneaks back to the table while you to your chambers, but you don't miss his cheeky "oh, im afraid i've already eaten dessert."

his favorite place, however, is the place he took you for the first time. he takes his time in those moments. working you up, till you almost break, then taking you apart only to put you back together over and over again.

slowly licks up your neck, with your legs fold in front of you, he pistons himself in and out of you. your antsy hands drop from your thighs to his back, up to his neck, and down into the sheets, crying out at how deep he fucks you—at how much you can see how he's been needing you. how he's been missing you.

it's in the way he kisses and worships your body, the way he whimpers whenever he's inside you, how he looks at you, even while around so many people at your father's party. how big they got when they saw you, how wrinkled the sides were when he smiled. in the way he holds you after he's fucked you—tight and warm. how he nuzzles into your neck, kissing your shoulder, completely flush to you.

but you're no better. calling out for him whenever you touch yourself, wearing his favorite color every time he comes around, with matching panties. how you wrap your hands over his arms, kissing the meat of them. how you hide little gifts, sonnets you've worked, sweets you've baked, intimates you've worn. and the way when he writes you back, "thanking you," you feel like you could die.

it's easy to secretly write about him. gush to yourself about your scandalous love with "mr. frown," you write for hours. tuck them safely into the hole inside your closet that you made when you were younger. you write all the days you don't see him, and when you do you always have to mention something from them.

"i wish time would stop when we are together, so we can see what forever feels like."

"i need you more and more every time we part. you take a piece of me with you i desperately need back. that spins and leaps inside of you when you see him again.

"if only you'd stay tonight, then my room wouldn't feel so empty."

when you tell him this, with that sparkly look in your eyes, he pauses. looking you over.

"it won't be good for us, princess."

"why is that?"

"i won't—i won't be able to control myself, just not safe for us."

"you don't know that," you all but plead. "you have to at least be curious, of what can happen if we try?"

he understands what you're referring to because those same thoughts bounce around his mind whenever he's alone, missing you. those pestering "what if's," that keep him up, keep him wondering. the ones that eat at his resolve.

so even though it's risky, and is no good for him at all, he sinks back into your bed. kisses the back of your neck, nosing your baby hairs, and whispers a weak, "i can never say no to you"

and for a night, you two don't have to spend it missing something.

#( ☆ ) smuts #( ☆ ) fluff #( ☆ ) spiderman: atsv #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel smut #spiderman across the spiderverse smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #duke!ohara #sins in silk

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monstacheol · 3 months ago

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𝓓𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝓗𝓸𝓶𝓮

❀Pairing: C.SC x afab! reader

❀Summary: When your husband goes on a two-week business trip, you are left alone in the comfort of your shared home until your heat hit unexpectedly. With Cheol away, you have to break this heat soon before he comes back. Turns out….he came back sooner than you thought.

❀WC: 4.3K (Originally supposed to be 2K words but I wrote too much.)

❀Warning: Dom! Alpha Seungcheol, Sub! Omega Reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe everyone), mild dirty talk, breeding, mention of a baby, pet name: (y/n): baby, princess, sweet girl; Cheol: cheol, daddy( a few time) (I'm missing out a lot. Let me know and I'll add more.)

❀Taglist: @kyeomiis @onlywonwoorideul @scoupsieee @jimintopiaaaa @gyuguys @rissepuffs04 @yawnozone

❀Notes: It has been a while since I wrote smut, especially an omegaverse one, so I don't know if this is good. I worked hard on it the best I could. Please bear with me. I am rusty and my writing style has changed. It is also proofread and edited. I edited it the best I could. So if there is any minor grammar error, I'm so sorry. If this is any good, I'll write the next prompt I had in mind. One of two or three that I have before school starts for me. So I hope you enjoy it and if it's awful (I think it is but that's my opinion because I was stressing about it for weeks), I'm so sorry and I hope to improve soon. Please comment, like, reblog for support.

You were curled up on the bed, panting, hot, and wearing nothing but your husband's t-shirt and your fingers stuffed inside as you were surrounded by your husband's clothes in your lovely nest. Your mind was lost in a daze as you could smell his scent flowing around you, leading you to fuck yourself in bliss. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten as you imagined his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, and his breath on your skin. You moan softly, feeling the intensity building up inside you. The fantasy of him being there with you pushed you over the edge, bringing you to a shuddering climax that left you breathless. But you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. You kept pumping yourself, imagining how he would do it.

How did we come to get to this point? How did this even happen? Well…

"Two weeks," you question.

Your husband nods his head as he adds, "Yes, two weeks."

A two-week business trip alone here in your home. You knew that your husband would be taking an upcoming business trip, but you didn't know it would be this long. You anticipated a few days at most, not the entire two weeks. The thought of being alone in the house for that long makes you feel a bit anxious and lonely as you pout.

"I know that look. You're pouting," Seungcheol said with a teasing smile.

In denial, you softly argue, "I'm not pouting; I'm just... not used to you being away for so long," you reply, trying to mask your disappointment. Seungcheol chuckles, knowing how much you will miss him. He then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. As I breathed in his scent of cherry and sandalwood, "It will be alright. I promise to call you every day and make it up to you when I get back," he reassured you, kissing your forehead.

You knew he was right, but what to do in a house by yourself? You and your husband have always been together. You were first college sweethearts, meeting each other through a mutual friend. Then, the moment you both graduated, he gave the sweetest proposal, and you've been inseparable ever since. But after three years of marriage, this will be the longest he has ever been away. You can't help but feel anxious about being apart for so long, but you have to make the most of it. Maybe you can hang out with your friends more often, or take Kkuma to that park she likes to go to. Perhaps you can finally finish that project you've been putting off. The possibilities are endless. He finished packing his luggage for this journey, and after he was done, you both walked to the door. You could hear tiny steps coming behind you as Kkuma followed closely. You both stopped at the entrance doorway as Kkuma sat there below your feet, looking up with those big eyes. Your husband kneeled down to pet her and show her lots of affection.

"Kkuma. Be a good girl, princess, while Daddy is away. Make sure to look out and take care of Mommy," Seungcheol cooed as he ruffled her hair, trying not to ruin the cute pink bow he placed on her head. He stood up from his kneeling position, and he turned to you, still pouting.

"You promise to call," you assert, looking up at him. Seungcheol smiled down at you, his eyes filled with love and reassurance. "Of course, I promise," he replied before kissing you.

"Don't worry, I will be back before you know it," Seungcheol assured you with a smile, grabbing your face and pecking your lips.

That was nine days ago. And now, here you are, sitting on your shared bed, surrounded by his clothes. In heat. Trying to relieve yourself before your husband returns. The first day without him was fine. You got your daily message from him, telling you how he misses you and sending you pictures, and you always responded. You even get to spend time with your friends. The second day went without a hitch as well. Then the third, then the fourth. But on the fifth day, you felt off. You sensed that something wasn't right. You felt tired. You didn't feel like yourself. You care less about eating or drinking and more about just lying down and resting. You tried to shake off the feeling, but it persisted. It was then that you realized that, you were about to go in heat. You didn't think it would happen so soon and on the day that your husband was gone. You gasp as your fingers pump inside you vigorously, the pleasure building as you give in to your body's desires. You came so many times, leaving the bed and your panties soaked with your release, but it wasn't enough. You need more. You crave for him. You need his touch. You need him.

"Cheolie," you whimper.

"Y/N," you heard.

You froze as you heard the voice you didn't expect to hear. You look up to see your husband staring there, wearing only casual clothes with a surprise on his face.

"C-Cheol. "W-What are you?"

"You're in heat, aren't you?" Seuncheol asked.

You didn't say anything, but your silence said it all for him. "My poor baby," he said as he stepped closer to you. He climbed into the bed toward you, his hand reaching out to gently touch your face.

"Left alone, all hot and bothered. Missing your Alpha so much that you made a nest out of all of his clothes. So much that you have to finger yourself just to feel a little relief. It must hurt, doesn't it?" Seungcheol said as his hand brushed through your hair.

Tears trickled down your cheeks as you nodded. "It hurts so much, Daddy," you said as you reached out, clutching his shirt. "P-Please," you begged.

Seungcheol shushed you gently, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "It's okay, baby girl. I'm here now, baby. Daddy's home. Daddy will take care of you," he whispered soothingly, kissing your head.

You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent, making your head spin. He pulled away to drape kisses across your face until they finally landed on your soft lips. You melted into the kiss as it became passionate and intense, completely losing yourself in the moment. You wrap your arm around him as he deepens the kiss, laying you down on the bed. The kiss became electrifying. His hands traced the curves of your body, causing you to gasp in pleasure, allowing his tongue to explore every inch of your mouth. His lips then traveled from your jaw to your neck. You couldn't help but lose yourself in the passion of his touch.

"My sweet girl," Seungcheol murmurs into your neck as he inhales your scent. Your sweet scent of (whatever scent you want it to be). He groans softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You were going crazy. Him. His touch. His scent was intoxicating. It was enough to make you go wild. You never wanted it to end.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs, his voice filled with longing. His lips attacked your neck, kissing, biting, and sucking, which you were certain would leave a mark. You uttered a soft gasp, feeling a rush of desire and anticipation coursing through your body. His hands gripped your waist tightly, pulling you even more.

"Miss you so much that I came back early to surprise my darling wife, and what do I see? You in heat, wearing my shirt, fingers inside that pretty pussy of yours, smelling so irresistible." He presses his lips against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your collarbone. He grabs h̶i̶s̶ your shirt, pulling it over your head, revealing your naked body underneath, just for him. "It's enough to send me into a rut," he whispers huskily.

His words made your pussy clench. God, do you need him? You reach out for him, grabbing his shirt. "Cheollie. Your shirt," you whine.

Seungcheol faintly chuckles. "What? What do you want?" he teasingly asks. You grab his shirt and pull on it. "I want it off," you whisper, your voice filled with desire.

Seungcheol obliged, removing his shirt and throwing the piece of clothing on the floor, not caring where it landed, revealing his well-toned chest and toned abs. Was this man gorgeous or what? You couldn't resist running your hands over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Like what you see, baby?" Seungcheol asked with a smirk, his eyes full of mischief.

You nodded eagerly, unable to tear your gaze away from him as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, and you couldn't resist kissing him back. The kiss deepened.

His large hands cup your breasts, massaging them with care, and then he leans down to attach his lips to one of your nipples as he toys with the other. You arch your back in response, a soft moan escaping your lips as his touch sends shivers down your spine. He continues to suck and bite your sensitive flesh, making you squirm with pleasure as he repeats it to others.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close and feeling his cock pressing against the front of his pants, hard and ready for you. You gasped as you felt the fiction of him grinding against you. "Cheol," you whimper.

He looked up at you with a smirk. "Patient baby," he whispered before teasefully biting your nipple. You pouted. You want more. You need his lips. You need more. You need to feel him inside you. He releases your swollen nipple with a 'pop' before trailing kisses down your stomach to the waistband of your panties. You knew you were going to get exactly what you wanted. He hooked his finger on the waistband of your panties, pulling down slowly until they were completely off, revealing your wet core. You could hear a sudden, small curse fall from his lips as he saw how wet you were.

"Baby, you're dripping so much," Seungcheol murmured. You gasped as his fingers traced the outer edges of your folds. "How many times did you cum?" he whispered, his voice husky with desire. You felt a surge of arousal at his words, your body responding eagerly to his touch. "So many," you admitted breathlessly.

Seungcheol softly chuckled at your cuteness. He lightly blew on your wet heat, causing you to shiver and whine. He then grabbed your thighs to place them on his shoulder, placing kisses along your inner thighs and making you shiver with anticipation. "Then allow me to make you cum some more," he whispered seductively as he trailed his lips up towards your core.

His tongue dips between your slick folds, eliciting a moan from your lips. "You taste so sweet," he growled before diving back in with fervor. The intensity of his actions sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you arch your back in ecstasy. His tongue traced from your dripping hole to your clit, as he sucked on the sensitive bud, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your hands grip his hair as he continues to expertly work his magic. "Please don't stop," you beg, desperate to reach the peak of ecstasy.

"Feels good," he murmurs. "So good," you whisper, feeling the tension building within you. He groaned against your core, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensation. If there's one thing that Seungcheol loves the most, it's pleasing you until you're a quivering mess of pleasure and desire. He could eat you all day if you let him. The way he makes you feel is unlike anything you've ever felt before, and you never want it to end. Seungcheol's skilled tongue continued to work its magic; you could hear the knot in your stomach tighten. You were close.

"I'm close," you gasp, your body trembling with anticipation as he brings you to the brink of release. He muttered, not even letting up, "Let go, baby."

His voice was low and husky, and his words sent a shiver down your spine as you finally let go, the intensity of your release washing over you in waves of pleasure. Seungcheol continued to please you, drinking everything you had to offer, his skilled tongue never faltering in its movements. As you came down from your high, he leaned up to your lips to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled away for a moment to pull on the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing length. Your mouth watered as he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly stroked it. "You want it?" he asked, his voice husky.

You nod eagerly. "Beg for it," Seungcheol growls.

"P-please. Cheol," you begged, your voice filled with need and desperation.

"Please, what?" he titillated, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Please put it in, Daddy. I want to feel you. I want you inside me so bad. I want you to knot me up. I want you to fill me up completely with your cum," you whimpered. Your body ached for his touch, aching to be filled with pleasure.

"You want Alpha to cum inside? Want me to fill you up? Give you my knot. Fill you up so deep with cum until you are swollen with my babies? You want that, don't you?" He whispered seductively, his voice low and husky. You nodded eagerly. Just the thought of him breeding you and filling you with his cum just sent shivers down your spine. You want it so badly right now.

"Please, Alpha," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. The anticipation of feeling him inside you was almost unbearable. "What a good girl, asking so politely," he compliments.

His hands roamed over your body, teasing and tantalizing you as he positioned himself between your legs. With a smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "I'll give you everything you want, my sweet Omega."

With a low growl, he slowly pushed inside you, making you gasp and arch your back in pleasure. He groans as the feel of your tightness envelopes him. "Fuck, you're so tight, princess," he murmurs.

As he began to move in a slow and steady rhythm, you felt every inch of him pulsating within you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The sight below Seungcheol was so mesmerizing. Just seeing you writhing beneath him, your eyes fluttering and your lips parting in silent ecstasy, was enough to drive him wild with desire.

With each thrust, he could feel your body responding eagerly to his touch, igniting a fire within him that only grew stronger with each passing moment. His thrust began to pick up speed as your moans grew louder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room with an intoxicating rhythm. "Alpha," you moan. Your voice is filled with desire and need. You are in ecstasy right now.

Seungcheol's name on your lips only fueled his passion further, pushing him to give you everything you craved. As he continued to move inside you, the intensity of your connection soared to unforseen levels, rendering both of you breathless and lost in the moment. The two of you were intoxicated by each other.

He lifts your legs to place them on his shoulder, deepening the penetration and intensifying the pleasure. The change in angle allowed him to hit all the right spots. "T-There," you utter. "There?" he reiterates, his voice husky with desire. "Yes, right there," you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside you, making your body tremble with pleasure. He chuckles slightly as he repeatedly hits that spot, causing you to lose control of your senses. Your hands grip the sheets tightly as your hips move in perfect sync with his thrusts, the sensation becoming more intense with each movement. The way your moan was mixed with the squelching sound of your wet cunt was music to his ears.

He paused his movement to pull out, leaving you to whimper in protest. He lifts you up and changes positions. His back presses against the headboard, and you now sitting on his lap. Holding your body in place, he lines his cock up with your entrance and slowly enters you again, filling you. Your body takes over, and you ride him with wild abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "That's it. Good girl," he mutters as his eyes roll back, biting his lips.

Your moan mingles with his groans, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoes through the air, heightening the intensity of the moment. His hips thrust upward, meeting yours in the middle, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts deeper and harder. "Alpha," you whine.

With his half-lid eyes, he saw the pure ecstasy on your face. Drinking in your fuck-out expression and my god, you look beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. There were so many words he could use to call you right now. But right now, at this moment, you were the most exquisite sight he had ever seen. You were everything that he had dreamed of, and so much more. And he could fall in love with you again and again and again.

Your bounces become more urgent, and your breath comes in short gasps. "So good. So deep," you whisper breathlessly. "You like that. You like your Alpha cock deep inside you, don't you?" His words send a shiver down your spine as you nod eagerly, unable to form a coherent response. His eyes lock with yours. He leans in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers as he continues to move inside you with a relentless rhythm. The kiss deepens as his hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to him.

Seungcheol's hand reaches between your bodies as his thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing small circles that push you closer to the edge. You moan at his touch. Pulling away from the kiss, your gaze is locked on his half-lidded gaze, a gaze full of desire and intensity. You felt the coils in your stomach tighten as the pleasure built, and your body was on the brink of ecstasy. You were close, and he knew it. His lips twitch into an amusing smirk, the corners crinkling with amusement. "That's my girl. Such a good girl for me, riding me so beautifully. Are you close, baby," he whispers huskily.

"I'm close. So close, Cheol," you gasp out as your climax approaches. Seungcheol's movements become more urgent as he whispers in your ear, "Let go for me, princess. Let me feel you come apart around me."

As you cry out his name and finally reach your peak, "That's it, baby. Let's go. You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as you ride out the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your body trembles in his arms. Your cunt clenches around him as he continues to move inside you, prolonging your ecstasy. "Fuck!"

Seungcheol groans at the feel of your walls pulsating around him. Seungcheol holds your body close, flipping you back into your previous position, laying you on your back. His hand grips your hips tightly as he pounds into you relentlessly, his own desire evident in his intense gaze. You arch your back in response, reacting to his movements with equal fervor, surrendering completely to the pleasure he bestows on you. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your moans and his grunts. Seungcheol's pace became more erratic as he chased his own release, his movements becoming more desperate and erratic.

"Fuck. Are you ready for Alpha knot?" he growls, his voice low and husky with need. You nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation as he finally locks you in place with a deep, primal thrust. His knot thickens and swells, filling you as you cry out in ecstasy. In that moment, you are overwhelmed by the feeling of being claimed by your Alpha, and you can't help but surrender to the primal pleasure coursing through you. His primal growl, his fast, aggressive pace, and the feel of his knot locking inside you send you over the edge, bringing you closer to another orgasm. His breath ragged against your ear as you clung to him desperately.

"C-Cheol," you begged, your voice filled with desperation and desire. You feel his body tense up as he releases it inside you, filling you with his warmth. The sensation of his release triggers your own, sending you both into a state of blissful ecstasy. You cling to him desperately, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being claimed by your Alpha. Your bodies were entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and heavy breathing, totally exhausted by the raw intensity. The room is filled with the scent of sweat and sex.

Seungcheol waited for his knot to swell down before he could pull out and collapse next to you, completely depleted. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a tender embrace. Pushing your hair to the side. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. His hand caresses your waist gently. You nodded. "I'm fine."

Seungcheol smiled, relieved to hear your response. He placed a kiss on your forehead. You were so happy to see him. If this was ever a dream, you never wanted to wake up. Your husband is home. Early... Wait. Why is he back here so early?

"Wait. You came back so early. I thought-."

"Ah," Seungcheol interrupted. "We ended up finishing up early, and instead of me staying for the next few days, I decided to go home. I wanted to call you to let you know, but I wanted to surprise you. Turns out you surprised me," he chuckled.

Oh, so that's why. You didn't expect him to come back early, nor were you expecting your heat to come either. But you were glad. "Welcome back home. I'm glad you're back," you replied, grateful for his presence. Seungcheol thanked you, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"I'm glad too. I felt awful leaving you here on your own without anyone. So I was thinking, " Seungcheol started. Your eyes turn to him, curious about what he is going to say next. His hand grabs your hand, twirling around your wedding band on your finger before he places a kiss on the back of your hand. He looked into your eyes and finally said what he wanted to say.

"I was thinking, and I know we have talked about this so much, but why don't we start trying for a baby? I think we are ready to take that big step," he said, looking at you with a hopeful expression.

His sudden suggestion stunned you. A baby. A baby with Seungcheol. This. This was a huge decision. And you know you both talked about it during your marriage and said that you both would give it some thought. But now, faced with the reality, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the weight of such a life-changing decision. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, before responding to Seungcheol's proposal.

"Now before you answer, if you don't want to, I won't force you, and I will wait as long as you want. Whatever you decide, I will respect it. But just know that I love you so much, and I want to take that next step with you in our marriage. I want to be the father of our children. Plus, I think Kkuma will love having siblings to play with," he added.

You giggled at his last response. Deep down, you knew that you had always dreamed of starting a family with him. From the moment you said, 'I do', you knew he was the one you wanted to share your life with and raise a family with. And this. This new chapter of having a baby together would be the perfect step. "I love you too, and I can't imagine a future without you by my side," you finally said, feeling the weight of his words sink in. "Let's start planning for our family together," you joyfully say.

Seungcheol smiled back at you, his eyes shining with joy as he held your cheek, placed a gentle kiss on your lips, and then placed a few more. He smiled softly at you, looking into your eyes, before flipping you over on your stomach on all fours, causing you to squeal. "C-Cheol," you say.

"What? You didn't think this was over?" Seungcheol responded with a mischievous smile. You could feel his lips tracing kisses across your back. His lips trace up your back, making you shiver, and you cry out in protest.

"B-But. Shouldn't we take a break? You just returned from your trip," you mentioned between breaths.

Seungcheol just chuckled and disregardingly ignored what you had just said. His hands roam your body as he leans over, his chest pressing against your back.

"We both know your heat doesn't end there. If we want that baby, we need to keep going. I did promise I would make it up to you, and I intend to keep my word," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

His hand grabs your face, turning you to look at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"We got all night, baby, and I want… No, I NEED to make sure you're nice, full, and swollen with my baby. And Daddy will make sure that happens," Seungcheol whispered with a devilish grin.

You softly moan in response, feeling a rush of desire and anticipation. Seungcheol's lips curled into a knowing smile before he pressed them against yours, sealing the unspoken agreement between you. It was then that you realized that the night was far from over.

#choi seungcheol #scoups #seventeen #seventeen seungcheol #scoups smut #scoup smut #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt imagines #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x black reader #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol smut #black writers

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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Part 3 of angst with SpecGru (former 141) reader.

Who’s ready for Simon to face the consequences of his actions?!

(No content warnings)

The reunion is dry. Simon almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a new scar on your right cheek, and a tattoo sneaking beneath the sleeve of your compression shirt. You don’t look at him once, eyes either forward or on your own captain while he talks to Price.

“Good to see you again,” Price says to you.

It’s only then that your eyes shift to him, something distinctly unimpressed about the set of your eyebrows. “Good?”

“Yes. Good.”

You don’t answer, instead flick a look to the man on your right. Russ, Simon remembers from the files Laswell distributed. Wears a mask almost always as well. Something passes between you two in that glance, something Simon would dare say is mocking. Can all but see you rolling your eyes like you used to when the brass was blowing smoke.

“We’re not here for small talk,” your new captain interrupts. “Where are we bunking?”

The SpecGru team sweeps you away with them to their side of the barracks. The man on your other side, covered head-to-toe (Nikto, Simon’s mind supplies) casts a lingering glance over his shoulder at the rest of the 141.

“Brr,” Soap says when you’re all out of sight. “That was chilly.”

“No kidding,” Gaz says, grimacing.

Price sighs, runs a hand down his face. There’s a beat where it seems like he might speak, might comment on the ice radiating across the tarmac. Instead, he just shakes his head and waves them off.

Simon doesn’t let himself make a beeline for the barracks. For you. He made you leave for a reason. Two years doesn’t change anything.

He sees you at the mess later, with the rest of SpecGru. Russ’s hand arm around the back of your chair and your knee against your captain’s.

The seat you used to occupy with the 141 remains empty to this day. Not once during that meal do you glance at it, or them. Simon knows; he watches you the entire time.

You pad into the rec room kitchenette the next morning one feet quieter than they used to be. Your eyes register him, a little puff of air coming from your nose. Don’t say good morning — though neither does Simon.

“Tea’s in the right now,” he says when you reach for the left cabinet.

You don’t even twitch to acknowledge that you’ve heard him, pulling out the coffee grounds and busying yourself at the machine. When did you start drinking coffee? You used to make tea for everyone on the team first thing in the morning.

He’s about to say something when Russ swaggers into the room, still adjusting his mask.

“Mornin’ sweets,” he says.

You shoot him a smile, tilt your head as he kisses your cheek loudly through the mask. Simon freezes.

“Don’t feel like talking yet?” Russ asks.

You shake your head, offer him a sip from your mug. He accepts, winking as he hands it back.

(That’s new too. Used to be you couldn’t shut up in the mornings, chattering to whoever was nearby.)

“This is a public space, you know that right?” Simon rumbles.

“No shit?” Russ asks, eyebrows obviously arched.

You snort and lean up against the counter, cupping your mug in both hands. At least that’s a mannerism Simon recognizes.

He doesn’t rise to the bait, stands from his chair. He’s done with his tea anyway and he’s got shit to do before the team exercises later.

When he passes just within arm’s reach to rinse his cup out in the sink, you don’t tense. Or even move at all, except to take another measured sip of bitter coffee. (Didn’t you have a sweet tooth?)

He leaves just as Nova is stepping in, singing a honey-sweet good morning to you and Russ that makes Simon’s teeth ache.

The exercises are brutally efficient. Not a single member of the SpecGru team speaks to the 141 more than necessary to complete the objective. There are no words of praise or attempts at camaraderie between drills.

Which is not to say there isn’t any at all. Simon sees you scoop Nova up when she bests Soap at a tricky maneuver, laughing bright and bell-like while the rest of your team looks on. Nikto touches your shoulder after you disarm Price of his knife and you beam at him like the fucking sun.

It’s sets Simon’s teeth on edge. How well you fit with them — better than you even did when things were good with the 141. When one of you moves, the other four compensate, no one left unprotected, room left for stumbles or mishaps.

Your captain tugs your belt when you pass him, and you grin as you peck his jaw, before trotting off to a soft-eyed Russ.

Simon can feel Johnny’s eyes bouncing between you and him, waiting for… something. Fuck’s sake. Simon tamps down the agitation crawling beneath his skin and sets up for the next drill.

“Oi, we need to start mixing. We can guarantee that our teams will stay separate,” Price calls to your captain.

He grunts, but jerks his head at the rest of the SpecGru folks. You stay separate, adjusting your gloves as if nothing in the world is wrong.

“Wait, she needs to—”

“She needs to follow my orders,” your captain interrupts. “And her orders are to operate solo for this drill.”

You nod and dart off without another glance.

Simon’s fingers twitch.

“Something wrong, Ghost?” Keegan leers, thumbs hooked in his belt. “You don’t wanna work with me?”

“Fuckin’ Yanks,” he mutters.

Keegan laughs like SImon’s told a hilarious joke. Thankfully, he shuts the fuck up for the rest of the drill.

Your voice is back in Simon’s ear for the first time in two years, working as overwatch. You direct the teams like a master conductor, covering with perfect sniper shots where necessary. Earn a constant stream of praise and admiration from your teammates. In the real thing, you would have saved Simon and Keegan twice over.

Eventually, though, you’re expected to run drills paired with the 141 again.

Your expression doesn’t so much as shift when your captain says so. The rest of your team tenses though, Nova even opening her mouth like she wants to argue.

You cross the small but firm divide between the teams to stand by Gaz’s side.

“Jus’ like old times, yeah?” He asks, offering you a fist bump.

You glance at it briefly, then turn forward.

“Sure,” you answer, flat and toneless.

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Masterlist

#okay don’t be mad that reader is a lil mean to gaz #it’s a scorched earth kind of fic #thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #angst #sad fic #former 141 reader #specgru reader

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soupuurr · 4 months ago

Text

𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟-𝑚𝑎𝑛!𝑐ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠 head-cannons

pairing. spider-man!chris x sub!reader

genre. smut

⟶ cw. explicit content, masterbation, dirty talk, praise, web play, dry humping, overstimulation, oral. MDNI

note. back (hopefully) from my hiatus everyone… sorry for leaving y’all high and dry LMAO but here’s a cool concept i thought about after playing spider-man on my pc

spider-man chris who comes home after a tiring day to see you snuggled up on your bed, wearing nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of red panties. his favorite. he can't help but walk over to you and sneakily trace his fingertips over your hip. the heat of his fingers seep through the cotton material, prompting a startled gasp to fall from your lips. "shh, jus' me." he slips his hand under the fabric and pulls his mask off of his head before his eyes greedily rake over your moon bathed body. "wearin' my favorite panties huh? 'turns me on."

spider-man chris who pins your hips against the mattress and fucks you stupid whenever his mission doesn't go as planned. all of his pent up anger and frustration erupts and is directed at you, but you love it. "nothin' ever goes my way—fuck—at least i got you, yeah?"

spider-man chris who desperately pumps a hand over his cock in a nearby restroom because you sent him lewd pictures of yourself, texting him about how much you missed him, and that you wanted to feel him inside of you. you knew that he was in the middle of something important, but you couldn't care less—and chris was infuriated by how you had him wrapped around your finger, because he always found himself touching his cock at your words. he’d be hidden from sight, bottom lip slotted between his teeth with the majority of his suit bunched at his thighs. his mask would be carelessly draped over a random surface while his fist would furiously tug at his length.

spider-man chris who webs your hands behind your back, rivaling in the way you sat helplessly while the sticky substance held your wrists together. his tongue would slowly glide across his teeth as he felt undeniably aroused at the sight of your curious eyes gazing up at him, obediently waiting for his next move. he'd rummage through your bedside drawer before pulling out a tiny bullet vibrator, pink lips curling into a wicked smile as he eyes you like you were his fucking prey.

spider-man chris who grinds your hips over his cock while his suit was still fully on. his length would prod at your cunt while his fabric covered fingertips guided your trembling form. “doin’ so good f’me… gonna make me cum in my suit—shit.” he’d roll his head back, masked eyes shutting as his skull thumps against the wall. it wouldn’t take long for lengthy spurts of cum to darken the red material by his crotch. you’d pull his mask off—nearly cumming yourself as you observe the way his hair messily pooled at his forehead, tears of pleasure welling up at the corners of his closed eyes. his jaw fell slack as his hands gripped the flesh of your moving hips, hissing at the overstimulation. “t-too much.”

spider-man chris who eats you out with his mask on. he’d smirk against your pussy with his mask bunched above his nose, strands of his brunet hair pooling out of the bottom and curling at the ends. you’d claw at his head, pulling him into your body as he hums and purses his lips around your pulsing clit. his blue eyes would hungrily lock onto your own—not that you could see them—and his hands would rest at your inner thighs, occasionally pushing them apart when they’d close around his head. he thought it was just the hottest thing ever to have you falling apart against him while he tongue fucked you with his mask on. “you’re so beautiful like this, you know that?”

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chris-prank · 4 months ago

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Doctor Seraph kidnaps hero reader for good -

Oneshot

Villain sidekick yandere x GN hero reader

Warning: slight NSFW allusion, kidnapping, creepy behavior and forced proximity

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

You opened your eyes, only to be met with darkness. Your figure was the only thing lit in the room. You could feel the restraint around your wrists and legs. They weren’t hurting you, but they were still tight enough to prevent you from moving. Then in the silence, broken up by your own breathing, a soft voice rose from the pitch black in front of you.

“I hope your head doesn’t hurt too much…”

The hidden figure partially walked into the light, presenting you with someone that definitely didn’t look like a criminal. He was wearing a white knitted cardigan with gold embroideries on the sleeves and a black t-shirt under it. The reflection of the light in his glasses prevented you from seeing his eyes. It took you a good second to recognize him, but the situation in which you had found yourself gave you no doubt. The sound of his voice paired with his crazy curly hair tied back into a ponytail was all too familiar.

“Doctor… Seraph?” You tentatively asked.

He smiled sheepishly and fully walked into your view, his feet almost touching yours from how close you two were now.

“I’m flattered th-that you recognized me so quickly.”

“What’s up with the civilian clothes? Is this some kind of off day kidnapping?”

“What? Oh heavens no! I just thought it was best to show you my identity… to make it fairer for you.”

“Fairer?”

It took a moment for your brain to register what he meant, but that’s when you realize the lack of fabric around your eyes. You weren’t wearing your mask. Your stomach dropped. You were already imagining disaster scenarios where your family and friends would now be at the mercy of all the criminals you fought over the years.

“I didn’t even tell you my real name! What an inconsiderate host I am.” He gave himself a face palm, “you can call me Vincent.”

“Why… Why are you telling me all this? What do you gain from this?” You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, “is this some sick mind game before telling everyone who I am?”

You didn’t care to be hurt, to be kidnapped or tortured as long as your friends and relatives stayed safe.

“Sharing your secret identity!? Never!” He sounded genuinely surprised, “it wouldn’t be really nice of me to do that to the person I love, don't you think?”

He got closer to wipe away the tears from your cheeks and excused himself for the misunderstanding he had caused. You tried to recoil from his touch all the while giving him a pure look of confusion at this sudden confession.

“Don’t worry, I k-know that you feel the same way! You always were so gentle and kind to me compared to… the others.” He stuck his tongue out as if he was just reminded of the taste of spoiled milk, “But let’s forget about everyone else, we have each other now.”

He got on his knees as he said the last part and rested his head on your laps. He made a sound scarily similar to a moan while rubbing his cheek against the fabric. He stared up at you through his glasses and gave you a loving smile, but it quickly turned into an awkward one when he realized you couldn’t pet his head.

“Sorry about the restraints… I just can’t have you escape.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know what to do or say. He took your silence as something positive, since he straddled himself onto your lap and nuzzled his head into your neck. His warm breath grazing your skin was overwhelming all of your senses.

“You’re the first person to make me feel loved in such a long time.” He whispered with deep longing.

You could feel your heartbeat all the way into your throat, making you nauseous. You were attracted to him, no need to deny that, but this was going way too fast. That’s when it clicked in your brain.

“I don’t want to be with a criminal.”

He leaned back to look you in the eyes, shocked by your statement.

“W-what?”

“I don't want us to be together if you’re still a supervillain.” You repeated confidently.

“So…if I reform we can be a couple?”

“Yes!”

It was cliche, but you subtly crossed your fingers, hoping that it would be a good enough compromise for him. Vincent frowned, thinking about it for a good minute.

“B-but they’ll put me in prison… and I-I won't be able to be with you–” He got agitated, as if the simple idea of being apart from you was a punishment in itself.

“Don't worry! You’ve never been as bad as your boss, people will surely accept you with open arms.” You swiftly added, “and if not, I’ll say that you’re under my charge.”

He stared at you with dilated pupils and a heavy breath.

“You promise…That you will defend me from them?”

As soon as you nodded he went back to nuzzling his head into your neck and pushed his body closer to yours. You could feel something oddly hard poking at your stomach.

“I knew you r-really cared about me.” He whispered.

After a few minutes of silence, only being broken by small happy noises he let out during this forced cuddle session, you spoke up.

“Can you untie me? It would be nicer if I could embrace you back, don’t you think?” You forced yourself to sound casual despite the amount of stress you were under.

Vincent chuckled in response, causing goosebumps to sprang over your arms. He reacted as if you just asked a silly question.

“I can’t do that…I know you truly love me, but I-I also know that there’s still a part of you… that wants to escape and stop me.” He shook his head. “You just can’t help it, my little hero.”

You forced yourself to make an understanding smile.

This was going to be a long ride.

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere drabble #tw yandere #sub!yandere #sub yandere #yandere villain #gn reader #x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #My oc-Vincent #My oc-Dotor Seraph #oneshot

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seospicybin · 1 month ago

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INCISION.

I.N x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: In a bustling hospital, you and Jeongin are two doctors trying to navigate the fine line between professionalism and desire. (11,2k words)

Author's note: I'm obviously not a doctor but I've done my research so apologies in advance if you find any inaccuracies. Nevertheless, pls enjoy my first medical au!

The sound of surgical instruments clinking fills the operating room as the soft hum of machines keeps a steady rhythm in the background. You focus on the task at hand, making precise movements as you and Jeongin work side by side.

The tension is palpable, though, even beneath the masks you both wear. The nurses and assistants know this is nothing new.

"You're not positioning the clamp right," Jeongin says, his tone clipped but quiet enough to stay professional.

You shoot him a sharp glance from behind your mask, but hold back from snapping. "I know what I’m doing," you mutter under your breath, trying to stay calm as the situation intensifies.

He glances at the monitor, his eyes flicking between the patient’s stats and your work. "The tissue is too delicate for that much pressure. You’ll cause excessive bleeding if you keep going like this."

You feel the heat rising, frustration bubbling up. "I've done this procedure before, and I know the limits. This is—"

"Stop," Jeongin interrupts, his voice firm but composed, "We’re not here to debate. Just adjust the clamp."

There’s a pause in the room. You don’t miss the way the others subtly glance at each other, wondering if they’ll witness another argument. Reluctantly, you adjust the clamp the way he suggested. Moments pass, and the bleeding stops.

Damn it. He’s right.

Jeongin doesn’t say anything further, just resumes the surgery without acknowledging the tension in the air. Your irritation simmers quietly as you continue, but it doesn’t escape you that he’s proved you wrong in front of the entire team.

It's excepted of you to storm off once the operation is finished, he scoff under his breath as you leave him behind to deal with the post-op responsibilities. He rolls his eyes, tugging off his mask and gloves as he makes his way to the waiting area.

As soon as he steps out, he’s met with anxious eyes—the patient’s family, clinging to each other for support, waiting for any news.

He clears his throat, slipping effortlessly into his professional persona. "The surgery went well," he announces, offering them a reassuring smile.

There’s an immediate sigh of relief from the family. The wife’s eyes well up with tears, her hands shaking as she clutches her husband’s.

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much," she whispers, voice cracking with emotion.

"The team will keep monitoring him closely, but everything went as expected," he replies with practiced humility. "Don't worry. Your loved one is in good hands."

The gratitude they shower him with is met with his usual calm professionalism, nodding politely as they thank him profusely. Despite the warmth of the moment, a part of his mind lingers on you, and the irritation bubbles back up.

When the surgery is over, and the patient is stable, you storm out of the operating room, ripping off your mask, gloves and surgical gown in one swift motion, crumpling them before tossing them into the bin with a sharp flick of your wrist.

Everyone around you barely spares a glance—it only takes one look to know you and Jeongin are at it again. Good. Let them know. That way, they’ll stay out of your way.

People might think you’re pissed at Jeongin for what happened in the OR, but the truth stings deeper than that—you’re mad because he was right. Again. And you hate that. You hate him, not for what he does, but for always proving you wrong. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been pissed at Jeongin for no real reason since the day you started working together.

You head straight to the locker room, blessedly empty since not many staff are working the night shift. The irritation gnawing at your insides pushes you to undress quickly, stepping into the shower.

The water hits your skin, warm and soothing, the perfect antidote to the storm brewing inside you. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the water stream down your face. It’s a temporary release, but it helps. Slowly, the anger ebbs away, replaced by the calming rhythm of the water.

The creak of the locker room door breaks the silence, but you don’t pay it much mind. People come and go—it’s part of the routine. You brush your wet hair back, tilting your head again, letting the warmth wash over you.

Then the shower curtain pulls open, and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Jeongin steps in behind you, the heat of his body unmistakable as he presses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist. Without hesitation, he pulls you close, his firm chest pressing into your skin, his breath hot against your neck. You can feel every inch of him, including the unmistakable hardness that pokes against your lower back.

He doesn’t say anything. He never does. Instead, he leans down, licking the droplets of water from your neck before placing soft kisses there, each one more deliberate than the last. You tilt your head to the side, giving him better access, and he takes it, his lips moving to capture yours in a deep, consuming kiss.

His hands trail down your sides, slow and teasing, until they reach your breasts. His fingers curl around them, squeezing lightly, and you glance down to see your nipples harden under his touch.

You bite back a moan, your body betraying you as your hand snakes its way behind you, finding his cock. You wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly at first, and then with more intent as he groans softly against your ear.

Jeongin responds in kind, his hand slipping between your legs, finding your most sensitive spot with ease. His fingertips circle your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through you, and the tension between you builds, the steam from the shower doing nothing to cool it down.

It’s not long before Jeongin can’t take it anymore. He spins you around, pinning you against the cold tiled wall, his body pressing urgently into yours. One of your legs hooks around his waist as he positions himself, his eyes focused as he pushes into you with a low growl. You whimper, feeling the stretch as he fills you completely, his hard length fitting perfectly inside you.

His lips part as he looks down, watching himself enter you before his gaze flicks back to your face. His hands grip the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until your feet are off the floor. The new angle sends him deeper, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrusts into you, setting a steady, unrelenting pace.

Every movement, every grunt, every gasp is a channel for the frustration you’ve been carrying. You’ve been doing this with Jeongin for weeks now—fucking to release whatever tension builds between you during the day. It’s twisted, getting off on the mutual annoyance and frustration, but it works. For both of you.

You don’t want to admit that you’ve already cum once, and you’re not sure if he realizes, but your body is already building towards another. You clutch his shoulders harder as he speeds up, his hips snapping against yours as water cascades down his flushed skin.

He looks damn good, and you hate him for it. His dark hair slicked back, lips swollen and red from your kisses, his ears tinged pink. You hate that you can’t help but kiss him again, because despite everything, he’s good at this. He knows how to unravel you.

The contradicting emotions swirl inside you, and before you know it, you’re coming undone for the second time, your body tightening around him as you moan into his mouth. The intensity of it has you seeing stars, and Jeongin grunts as he continues thrusting into you, chasing his own release.

He pulls out just in time, his hot release spilling over your thigh, marking you in the process. Neither of you speaks, just panting against each other as you come down from the high.

No words are needed—there’s never a conversation about this. No being civil, no apologies. Just this. Just sex. Nothing more.

Jeongin stretches his neck, feeling the stiffness from working for eleven hours straight finally ease after his short nap. The break helped reset his brain, and after washing up and throwing on his coat, he heads to the breakroom to make himself a much-needed cup of coffee.

Inside the lounge, a handful of doctors and nurses are scattered around, grabbing a quick bite or drink between shifts. Jeongin grabs a mug, pouring coffee into it when a nurse glances his way.

"So, Dr. Yang, what do you think of our new director?" she asks casually.

Jeongin pauses mid-pour, eyebrows raised. “What new director?”

“The new hospital director," she repeats with a slight smile, pulling up a stool across the table from him. “You didn’t come to the announcement earlier?”

He shakes his head. "I was taking a nap."

"Ah, that explains it," she laughs softly, taking a sip of her own coffee.

Jeongin adds a teaspoon of sugar into his cup, curiosity starting to creep in. “So, who is he?”

"He’s the grandson of the chairman," she answers, setting her cup down.

Jeongin lets out a quiet sigh, stirring his coffee. "As expected."

"And," she leans in slightly, lowering her voice, "he’s one beautiful man."

He snorts, shaking his head and then jokingly says, "Be careful, or HR’s going to call you in for that.”

As much as the thought of a "beautiful" new director amuses him, the fact that he got the position through family connections—nepotism—already has Jeongin losing a bit of respect for him. Still, he pushes the thought aside as he finishes his coffee and heads off to do his patient rounds.

After checking on everyone under his care, Jeongin makes his way to his shared office, eager to update patient records in peace. As he steps inside, he spots you already there, seated at the desk. But what catches his attention isn’t just you—it’s the man sitting across from you, the two of you deep in conversation.

The moment Jeongin walks in, the talking stops, and both of you glance his way.

The man sitting across from you turns in his chair, revealing himself to Jeongin. He looks like he’s around the same age, but he's dressed in a sharply tailored pinstripe suit, hair slicked back like he walked straight out of a magazine.

"May I know who’s this?" the man asks, his voice low and smooth, the kind that commands attention.

"That’s Dr. Yang Jeongin, also a general surgeon," you introduce him politely. "We’re sharing the office."

"Ah..." The man lets out a soft, amused sound, standing up from his seat and extending his hand toward Jeongin. "I’m Felix. Nice to meet you."

Jeongin’s eyes flick over Felix briefly, sizing him up. After a beat, he takes Felix’s hand for a quick shake.

“Jeongin,” he says, offering a terse introduction.

The handshake doesn’t last long, but he catches Felix studying him for a moment longer than necessary. There's an air of appraisal in his gaze, one that makes Jeongin immediately wary.

"He’s the new hospital director," you mention, glancing between them.

Oh. So this is the infamous new director—the chairman’s grandson, the "beautiful man." Jeongin internally rolls his eyes but keeps his expression neutral.

"Nice to meet you, Director," Jeongin says, offering the obligatory respect he assumes Felix expects.

Felix waves his hand dismissively. “Just call me Felix, like your office mate here does.” He gestures toward you with a friendly smile.

Jeongin raises an eyebrow. You, of all people, referring to the new director by his first name? The same you who’s earned the nickname "Ice Princess" because you keep a cold expression, even for patients?

Felix notices the curious look in Jeongin’s eyes and quickly adds, "We went to the same university, but unlike her, I didn’t finish my medical studies."

"But you now you’re directing the hospital I work in," You chime in playfully.

Felix chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter. "Anyway, we’re going for lunch. Care to join us?"

Jeongin glances at you. There’s an ease in your body language that makes it clear you’re comfortable around Felix—more comfortable than Jeongin has ever seen you, especially in his presence. Deciding not to intrude, Jeongin shakes his head.

"I’ve got to update some patient records," he says, keeping his tone light.

Felix nods, flashing him a quick smile. "No problem. Maybe next time."

With that, the two of you gather your things and leave the office together, leaving Jeongin alone. He watches the door close behind you, his mind swirling with thoughts.

So, not only is Felix the hospital director thanks to his family connections, but he’s also an old friend of yours—and he must admit that he's indeed a "beautiful man."

Jeongin wouldn’t call it luck that no one in the hospital has caught the two of you yet. It’s more about timing—and the fact that people know better than to hang around when you’re both in the same room. They all think it’s just the constant tension, the arguing. If only they knew what happens when the doors are closed.

However, Jeongin doesn’t take their obliviousness for granted.

When the urge strikes, he doesn’t risk anything at work. He knows exactly where to go. You both live in the same apartment building, which makes things much easier.

Now, after a grueling seventeen-hour shift, he stands outside your door, balancing a bag of food in one hand as he presses the doorbell.

A few moments later, the door swings open. There you are, dressed in a simple nightdress, your hair slightly tousled, as if you’ve just crawled out of bed. The soft fabric clings to your figure, and he knows right away that the food isn’t what this visit is really about.

“Food,” he says, holding up the bag as if it’s some peace offering.

You give him a look that says you’re not fooled. You know exactly why he’s here, and it’s not for a meal.

"Come in," you say, stepping aside to let him enter.

Jeongin strides in with the ease of someone familiar with the space. It’s not his first time here. He knows where everything is, where your bedroom is—everything. You gesture toward the dining table, where an open book and laptop suggest you’ve been studying a procedure for an upcoming surgery.

“You can put it there,” you say, nodding toward the table.

He sets the bag down, but his mind is already elsewhere. His gaze turns back to you, and he finds you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, leaning against the frame with a calm, collected air.

“We better make it quick,” you say, voice steady, “I have to be back at the hospital by four.”

Jeongin glances at his watch. There’s time. More than enough to do a few things. Without another word, he follows you into the bedroom. His eyes track your hands as they reach for the hem of your nightdress, and in one fluid motion, you pull it over your head and let it drop to the floor.

You stand there, nearly bare, save for the low-cut white underwear that clings to your hips. The silky fabric leaves little to the imagination, hugging the curves he knows all too well. He watches the way your body moves as you climb onto the bed, the way your legs cross beneath you as you sit there, waiting.

Your gaze is expectant, eyes smoldering as they meet his. You don’t need to say anything—the look is enough. Jeongin knows what’s required of him.

Without hesitation, he begins to undress. One item after another is discarded until there’s nothing between the two of you. He stands before you, unashamed, fully aware of your eyes roving over his body, taking in every inch.

You don’t hide your interest. Your eyes travel down his chest, lingering for a moment before settling lower. It’s clear in the way you’re watching him that you like what you see, and Jeongin feels the tension building, the air thick with unspoken desire.

This—what you have—is simple. It’s physical. You both know what to expect, and right now, there’s nothing more on either of your minds than satisfying the need you both feel.

Jeongin climbs onto the bed, crawling over you with a swift urgency that sends your head sinking into the pillow. His lips crash into yours in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as the tension between you shifts, blending desire with need. His hands, quick and sure, glide down your body, finding the heat between your legs.

His dainty fingers trace your wetness with a familiar intensity—gentle yet deliberate, coaxing every reaction he knows so well. But when his touch isn’t enough, he moves lower, his mouth replacing his fingers, tongue stroking along your slit before teasing your entrance. The wet warmth of his mouth, the firm pressure of his tongue, sends shivers up your spine.

He slips one arm beneath you, lifting your hips from the bed to give him the angle he needs. His mouth moves deeper, his tongue diving in as he devours you, the sound of your breathless moans fueling his efforts.

It doesn’t take long before you’re falling apart against his mouth, your release coating his tongue, and he revels in the taste of his triumph.

Off the bed, you clash. Your egos, your tempers—always fighting, always biting. But here, now, everything is fair game. No power struggles, just raw, shared pleasure.

Without wasting a second, you shift, getting on all fours, and take him into your mouth, returning the favor. Jeongin groans as you work him with expert ease, not stopping until you taste him—his release filling your mouth as he lets out a low, guttural sound, his body trembling under your touch.

It doesn’t end there.

The final round comes quick, an unspoken understanding between you. You lie on your stomach, and he positions himself over you, sliding into you from behind with relentless thrusts. You cross your legs, creating an extra tightness around him, and it drives him mad.

This is Jeongin’s favorite part. The way your mouth parts with nothing but moans spilling out, no words to bite at him, no comebacks to cut him down—just your breathless sounds of pleasure, your hands fisting the sheets as he takes you deeper, harder.

It’s all because of him, and he watches you, mesmerized by the way you slowly fall apart under him. He likes you like this. Fucked out of your mind, nothing left but the pleasure he gives you.

It’s almost too much, the sight of you, the tight heat surrounding him. It pushes him closer to his edge. His thrusts grow faster, more erratic as he chases his high, and you’re right there with him, your body trembling beneath his as you reach for your own release.

You both come undone at nearly the same time, Jeongin’s head falling into the crook of your neck as he breathes heavily, his lips pressing against your damp skin. He licks a stray droplet of sweat before planting a soft kiss on your neck.

Maybe, after all, hate and desire aren’t so different. Whatever it is that fuels your tension off the bed arouses him just as much on it.

Jeongin stirs, sensing the sunlight filtering through the blinds. His eyes flutter open, and for a second, he’s disoriented—until he realizes he’s still at your place. He hadn’t meant to stay the night. Turning his head, he sees your side of the bed empty, a small reminder that you had left early for work, as you’d mentioned last night.

He should be grateful that he doesn’t have to deal with the awkward morning after—small talk, avoiding eye contact—but something nags at him. Maybe it's the quietness of your absence, a hollow feeling he can’t quite place.

Jeongin gets up, slipping on his clothes and heading to the living room to grab his bag. He notices your books and laptop still scattered across the dining table, where you'd been working last night. But the food he brought is gone, an empty container in its place.

Later that day, he enters the shared office at the hospital, finding you lying on the sofa, fast asleep, the fatigue evident in the way your body is curled up under a blanket that drapes down the floor.

He knows you’ve had a long morning with a surgery, maybe even more work after that so as a professional courtesy, he quietly adjusts the blanket over your sleeping form, making sure you’re comfortable before moving silently to his desk.

For a while, he successfully works in peace, checking emails and looking over his schedule without waking you. But the silence shatters when the door suddenly swings open.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Felix says, freezing when he sees you stirring awake. “I didn’t know you were—”

“It’s okay,” you croak, rubbing your eyes and sitting up, still drowsy. “It’s time for me to wake up anyway.”

Felix walks in, flashing a smile at Jeongin when he walks past his desk. He sits on your office chair and quickly offer you one of the drinks with a sheepish smile.

“I brought us food,” he announces, setting a bag down on the table. You take the coffee with a grateful gasp, sipping it as though it's bringing you back to life.

“Feeling better already?” Felix teases, watching as you take another long sip.

You nod with a small smile. “Much better.”

Felix turns to Jeongin, a friendly smile on his face. “Dr. Yang, please join us. I brought enough for the three of us.”

Jeongin glances at you, sensing the tension, knowing how you both are. He can see you’re not exactly eager for his company, and he has work waiting for him.

With a thin, polite smile, he declines. “I’m sorry, but I have to check on my patients.”

“Okay,” Felix says, nodding in understanding.

But just as Jeongin thinks the conversation is over, Felix calls back with a playful grin, “Next time, you don’t get to refuse.”

Jeongin’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but as he walks out, he can’t help but glance back at you, sitting with Felix, looking more comfortable with him than Jeongin’s seen you in a long time.

Jeongin's eyes follow you across the room as you chat with Felix, your conversation too friendly for his liking. The two of you have been growing closer with each passing day, and it’s starting to grate on his nerves. He knows what everyone else is thinking—that he's jealous because you're spending time with the new hospital director. But it's deeper than that. He isn’t just annoyed at Felix; it’s you, too. He doesn't like seeing you laughing and being comfortable with someone who isn't him.

Jeongin tries to shake it off, throwing himself into his work, but it's impossible to ignore how often Felix finds a way to be around you. When Felix touches your arm casually during a conversation, something snaps inside Jeongin.

Later that day, the two of you are assigned to the same case, but the tension is palpable. You're standing on opposite sides of the patient’s bed, discussing the best treatment option when the argument starts.

"I think we need to go with a more conservative approach," you insist, your voice sharp, clearly not in the mood to back down.

Jeongin scoffs, shaking his head. "Conservative? This is an emergency. We don’t have time to wait around!"

"And rushing into surgery without considering alternatives could be reckless. Are you even thinking this through?" You argue, insisting that he thinks all these options through.

The nurses and doctors in the room glance at each other, exchanging awkward looks. They’re used to seeing the two of you argue, but today feels different. The tension is thicker, and no one dares intervene.

The argument escalates as you both exit the emergency room, the heated words continuing to fly between you. Neither of you backs down until you're alone in a narrow hallway near the storage closets.

"You never listen to anyone, do you?" you snap, your voice low and laced with frustration.

"And you never stop acting like you’re always right," Jeongin retorts, stepping closer to you, his eyes burning with unspoken frustration—frustration that’s been building not just over the patient but everything between the two of you.

Without thinking, the two of you back into the nearest closet. The door closes behind you, and before you can say another word, Jeongin pulls you to him. The next second, his lips are on yours, the argument forgotten as the two of you collide in a desperate, breathless kiss.

The cramped space of the closet doesn’t stop either of you from tearing into each other. His hands are already under your coat, fingers brushing your skin, while you tug at his scrubs, wanting more.

It's a dangerous game you're playing—this secret, reckless connection between the two of you—but right now, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You don’t need words. You both know how this ends.

Jeongin’s hands grip your hips tightly, his thrusts deep and relentless, but there’s something off. The usual fire between you two, the mix of anger and lust that always brings you back to each other, is there, but it feels different—colder, harsher.

You try to steady your breath, but Jeongin’s movements are growing more erratic. It’s almost as if he’s punishing you, though you don’t know why.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back just slightly, just enough to look down at you. His eyes are darker than usual, and there’s something new in them—a flicker of doubt, maybe even insecurity.

“You’ve been... busy lately,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “Not around much. Guess you’re spending time with the director now, huh?”

The question stuns you for a second. His tone is cool, but there’s an edge to it. Jeongin never talks like this, not when you’re in bed—or, well, in a closet like now. Heck! He doesn't even talk at all.

“What?” you manage to say, confused and still trying to catch your breath.

He lets out a small, sharp laugh, but it feels wrong—forced. “Just saying. You’ve been with him a lot lately.”

His thrusts slow, almost like he’s making a point, and it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable now. “Guess you’ve found someone else to keep you company.”

The words hit harder than his body does, and it’s not the physical tension that bothers you—it’s his tone, his insinuations.

You push against his chest, trying to get him to stop, to look at you properly, “What are you trying to say?" you ask, more firmly now.

A bitter scoff escaping his lips. “Sure. You’re just spending all that extra time with him for fun, right?”

The accusation is clear now. He’s not just upset; he sounds like he's... jealous, even if he won’t admit it outright. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, but it doesn’t feel good anymore. It feels like he’s trying to prove something—to himself or to you, you’re not sure.

“I’m not sleeping with him if that's what you're asking,” you say, pushing back again, harder this time. You need him to hear you, to actually listen.

For a moment, he freezes. His gaze locks with yours, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to believe you, but the jealousy still lingers in his expression, even as his grip softens slightly. He lowers his gaze, shaking his head as if he’s trying to shake off whatever is gnawing at him.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “You do what you want.”

But you can feel it—it does matter to him. He just won’t admit it. The tension in his body tells you more than his words ever could.

The air between you and Jeongin hangs thick with unspoken words, tension tightening every second. His eyes avoid yours, and you're just about to try and say something—anything to cut through this haze—when a shrill ring echoes from your coat pocket.

The sound slices through the moment, making both of you freeze. Your phone. You quickly reach for it, glancing at the screen as you slip out of Jeongin’s grip. The caller ID shows the hospital’s emergency line. Instinct takes over.

“Hello?” you answer, already feeling the shift from personal to professional.

The voice on the other end is urgent. “Doctor, we’ve got a mass casualty event coming in. Multiple vehicle collision on the highway—victims en route. We need you in the ER as soon as possible.”

You swallow, pushing the knot of emotions down. "I’ll be there in five."

Hanging up, you slide the phone back into your coat pocket and look at Jeongin, whose expression has already shifted into the same clinical mask. His jaw tightens slightly, but his eyes don’t meet yours. He knows what the call means.

“We have to go,” you say, breaking the silence. You grab your coat, quickly throwing it on.

Jeongin nods, his face unreadable now. “Yeah. I figured.”

There’s a moment where neither of you moves, standing in the cramped closet, the weight of unfinished business hanging between you. But the urgency of the call pushes it all aside. You decide to be the first to leave, stepping toward the door, pausing briefly, almost waiting for him to say something. Maybe to clear the air or soften whatever this was.

But Jeongin stays silent.

“I’ll see you in the ER,” you say, pulling the door open and stepping out into the hall.

The emergency room has quieted significantly after the initial rush, the chaos giving way to a somber stillness.

You check on the elderly couple occupying one of the beds in the ER. The husband is lying on the bed, looking weak but stable, while his wife holds his hand, worry etched on her face.

"Are you still having difficulty breathing?" you ask with a polite smile.

"It's gotten a lot better now," he answers, giving a weak smile.

"That’s good to hear," you reply, glancing at the monitor for his health status.

"Oh, how things turned out," he says with a sigh, "we were just on our way to our little cabin to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary."

You can’t help but smile at the shared information. "You've been married for forty years?"

"Yes," he confirms, his smile brightening his pale face.

"Stop it," his wife gently scolds, patting his arm for oversharing. "Just let the doctor do her job."

You sheepishly smile, pulling your stethoscope around your neck. "Take a deep breath for me," you instruct.

You place the stethoscope against his chest, listening carefully. His breathing sounds better, more stable. Still, you decide it’s best to put more oxygen in his system.

"Let’s get you some more oxygen through respiratory treatment," you suggest.

With him settled, you turn your attention to his wife. "How about you? Are you hurt? Are you experiencing any pain?"

"No, no," she says, shaking her head. "But my heart is beating so fast."

"May I have your hand?" you ask, gently taking it to check her pulse. It’s elevated, her heart rate quick and uneven.

"You do have a rapid pulse," you confirm, handing her back her hand. "Do you feel any heaviness in your chest or pain anywhere else?"

She waves you off with a shy smile. "I think it’s just shock. Please, focus on my husband."

You warn her nonetheless. "Please tell me if you start feeling anything unusual."

"Of course. Thank you, doctor," she says gratefully, echoed by her husband.

You leave them to rest, taking one last glance at them. The wife rests her head on her husband’s arm, their hands still intertwined. It’s a sweet sight, and for a moment, it feels like everything might be okay. But that moment doesn’t last long.

A nurse calls out to you. "Doctor, patient on bed eight went into arrest."

Without hesitation, you dash to the bed, assuming it’s the husband. But when you get there, it’s his wife—unresponsive, her husband frantically calling her name.

"Doctor, please, she’s not breathing," he cries, his voice trembling.

You act fast, checking her pulse—weak, barely there. "No pulse, unresponsive. I need her on a bed, now!" you shout, nurses rushing to help move her.

As soon as she’s laid on the bed, you rip open her shirt, connecting her to the monitor. "Prepare for intubation," you order, before jumping onto the bed to start chest compressions.

The room is tense as you pump her chest, determined to bring her back. "Get the defibrillator, now!" you yell between compressions, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead.

But then, the husband’s voice cuts through the urgency. "Doctor, stop!"

You don’t stop. You can’t stop. You keep pressing down on her chest, counting in your head, willing her heart to start again.

But his voice grows louder. "Doctor! Please, stop!"

"What?" You accidentally snap and looking at him in disbelief. You’re trying to save her—why would he want you to stop?

He steps closer, his face pale with grief. "We decided to do it. We signed the papers. A DNR. We don’t want resuscitation."

A Do Not Resuscitate order. As a doctor, you know what it means and you should respect the patient’s wish but you can't bring yourself to do it. You glance at the nurses, who nod in understanding. You should stop, but everything in you screams to keep trying, to save her.

"Sir, please—" you begin, your voice shaking, refusing to stop. Refusing to fail.

"It’s okay," he whispers, placing a hand on yours. "It’s what she wanted."

With a heavy sigh, you stop the compressions and step down from the bed. As soon as you let go, the monitor flatlines, the piercing sound filling the somber stillness in the room.

The husband pulls a chair next to her bed, taking her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Happy anniversary, my love," he whispers.

You stand there, frozen, tears welling in your eyes. You feel tired and angry and... helpless.

A nurse gently touches your elbow and softly mutters, "Doctor, we need to call it."

You glance at the digital clock on the wall, aware of the time but you can't bring yourself to say it. After a while, you manage to finally announce with a trembling voice, "Time of death: 22:02 p.m."

The moment the words leave your lips, you turn and walk out of the ER, needing air, needing space. You find your way to the balcony, the cold night air hitting your face as you pace back and forth, trying to process everything. The helplessness, the failure—it all crashes down on you.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Jeongin turns you around and pulls you into his arms, and that’s when you break. You sob into his chest, the weight of everything spilling out as he holds you tightly.

"It’s okay," he murmurs softly, his hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing circles on your back. "You’re okay."

Gosh! You want to believe him, but it never feels okay. Death never feels okay.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, breaking the moment. You pull away from Jeongin, checking the screen. It’s a call for work. You reject it, wiping your tears away, trying to compose yourself.

"I have to get back," you croak, your voice barely steady.

Jeongin nods, watching as you force yourself to wipe your cheeks and steel yourself for the rest of the night. You have to keep going, no matter how much it hurts. With one last deep breath, you head back inside, ready to face whatever comes next.

It’s an exceptionally peaceful afternoon at the ER. Jeongin leans on the nurse station, typing away at the computer as he reviews his patient's health records. In the distance, he catches sight of you speaking to one of the patients.

"I checked your blood test, and it came out well," you announce to the elderly woman lying in the bed.

"Oh, what a relief!" The lady clasps her chest, the worry on her face melting away in a second.

"Since there's nothing you need to worry about, you can go home tonight," you add with a small smile.

"Thank you, doctor!" The lady beams at you, gratitude in her wide grin.

"The nurse will come by shortly to remove the IV and provide you with your prescription," you inform her before starting to step away.

But then, the lady grabs your hand unexpectedly. "Doctor, you’re not married, are you?" she asks, eyes twinkling with a mischievous curiosity.

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, watching your expression shift into that familiar, polite awkwardness.

You give a small, tight-lipped smile. "No, I’m not."

"My son here..." she pats her son’s shoulder, clearly proud, "he’s still single too. I think the two of you would—"

"Mom!" The son groans, his face flushing red as he glares at his mother.

"What? I think she’s the same age as you," she insists, smiling brightly at you, undeterred.

"You can’t just do that," the son mutters in embarrassment.

"He works at a start-up company," the woman continues, trying to sell her son like a prized item. "He makes—"

"Doctor, you can ignore my mother," the son quickly interjects, his eyes awkwardly avoiding yours. "But thank you for your help."

You offer a polite nod, trying not to laugh at the awkwardness. "Please take care of yourself, ma'am," you say gently, making a graceful exit.

As you walk back to the nurse station, you take the seat next to Jeongin to input some notes into the system. You sign the discharge form and tuck the pen back into your coat pocket.

"I think that's it. I’m done for the day," you mention.

For a second, Jeongin thinks you're talking to him, but then you address the nurses gathered nearby.

"Have a great night, everyone," you say before leaving the station with your hands deep in your coat pockets.

Jeongin watches you leave, something unsettling nagging at him. He can't quite place it. Maybe it's the conversation from earlier in the storage closet that lingers in the back of his mind. Or maybe it’s the strange peace that’s settled between the two of you today, the lack of bickering or tension. It feels... off.

The two of you rarely talk about anything beyond work. You’ve both learned how to be civil by not saying much at all. But tonight, Jeongin senses there’s more to it, though he brushes the thought away, convincing himself it’s best to let things stay as they are.

Later, as he heads to the office to change, he finds you already there, seated on the sofa and scrolling through your phone. You’ve changed out of your scrubs and into casual clothes, but you glance up when you hear him enter.

"Aren’t you going home?" Jeongin asks casually as he drops into his chair.

"I was waiting for you," you respond simply.

Something stirs in his chest, but he keeps his face neutral. "Why?"

"I figured we could have dinner together," you reply, as if it’s no big deal—like it’s not the first time you’ve ever asked him for something beyond work.

Jeongin raises a brow, suspicion lacing his tone. "What’s the occasion?"

"Why? We can’t have dinner together?" You challenge him, deflecting his question.

Jeongin sees this as an opening to address the unresolved tension between you, but he plays it cool, pretending to think over your offer just to make you wait.

"Okay," he finally agrees.

You stand, grabbing your bag from your desk. "I’ll be waiting in my car," you say, already moving toward the door, the usual privacy shield between the two of you slipping back into place.

Jeongin watches you leave, a faint smile tugging at his lips. There you are—the guarded, reserved you he knows so well, unwilling to be seen with him in any context outside of work. But there’s something about it that makes him smile, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you're starting to warm up to him after all.

The silence in the car is almost unbearable. Jeongin taps his fingers lightly against his knee, trying to think of something—anything—to say. You’re the one driving, which leaves him with nothing to do but sit and awkwardly glance out the window. Small talk has never been his strong suit, and right now, it feels like the weight of everything unsaid between you is pressing down on him.

"So... dinner, huh?" Jeongin mumbles, feeling awkward as he tries to break the quiet.

"Yeah." Your response is short, almost too casual, but you don’t elaborate.

Jeongin notices you haven’t mentioned where the idea for dinner came from. Not that he minds—it’s just… unexpected. He rests an arm against the window as he glances out at the city lights passing by.

There’s a weight in his chest he hasn’t quite figured out. He wonders if it’s because of the conversation you two didn’t finish in the closet or the fact that things between you feel a little off lately.

"So… where did you find this place?" he asks, trying to push past the awkwardness. He doesn’t even know what restaurant you’re heading to, but he feels like he should say something else.

"A friend recommended it," you reply, again leaving little room for more conversation.

Jeongin shifts in his seat, feeling every second stretch out. He’s not used to this—the awkwardness between you. There was a time when your conversations flowed effortlessly, even if they were mostly about work. Now, every word feels like it has a double meaning, every pause filled with things neither of you are willing to say.

When you finally pull up to the restaurant, Jeongin is relieved to have something else to focus on. He watches as you park the car, then unbuckle his seatbelt and step out into the cool evening air. He follows you inside, glancing around the cozy, dimly lit space.

The atmosphere is intimate, not exactly what he was expecting, but maybe this could work. Maybe it’s the kind of setting where you could finally talk. But as soon as you turn the corner toward your reserved table, Jeongin feels his stomach drop.

Felix is already there. He’s seated at the table, smiling brightly like this is completely normal, like he’s supposed to be there.

Jeongin’s steps falter for a moment, shock hitting him first, followed by a wave of disappointment that sinks deeper than he wants to admit. He thought this dinner would be just the two of you.

"Hey!" Felix greets, waving both of you over. His energy is infectious, but it feels entirely misplaced in this moment. "Glad you two could make it!"

Jeongin’s gaze flickers to you, waiting for an explanation. Did you know Felix would be here? Of course you did. The pieces click into place, and disappointment creeps in. You didn’t tell him because you knew he wouldn’t have come if you did. He tries not to let it show, but it stings. He thought it’d just be the two of you tonight, that maybe you’d get a chance to talk.

"You didn’t say Felix invited us," Jeongin says quietly, trying to keep his tone neutral, though a flicker of something bitter curls inside him.

You glance at him, then shrug lightly. "Figured you wouldn’t come if I told you."

He clenches his jaw, forcing a small, tight smile. You’re right. He wouldn’t have. But now that he’s here, it feels like everything he was hoping to get out of this dinner has been thrown off course.

Felix beams at both of you, completely unaware of the tension settling between you and Jeongin. "Come on, sit down! I already ordered drinks."

Jeongin slides into his seat, feeling more deflated than before. Instead of a quiet dinner, where maybe—just maybe—he could have figured out what’s been going on between you two, he now has Felix sitting across from him. He can’t even be mad at Felix; it’s not his fault. But the disappointment still weighs heavy, gnawing at the back of his mind.

"So," Felix starts, completely oblivious, "what should we order for dinner?"

Jeongin feels the weight of being the third wheel settle over him like a suffocating blanket as the dinner progresses.

Felix, sitting across from him, effortlessly commands your attention. You both laugh about some story from work, and Jeongin just sits there, chewing absentmindedly on his food, nodding when needed but otherwise silent.

It’s not like he hates Felix—not even close. But tonight, with the way things are playing out, he can’t help feeling a little out of place.

Felix turns to Jeongin, probably noticing his silence, and asks, “So, Jeongin, how’ve things been at the hospital? Busy?”

Jeongin blinks, caught off guard. He doesn’t particularly feel like talking, so he mutters, “Yeah, busy.”

Felix waits a beat, expecting more, but when Jeongin doesn’t continue, Felix’s gaze flickers to you as if asking for help. You don’t miss a beat, jumping in seamlessly.

"He’s been pulling back-to-back shifts," you explain, glancing at Jeongin as you speak. "Somehow still manages to stay sharp during surgeries. We were just handling a rough case earlier, actually."

Jeongin freezes, surprised by how easily you talk about his work. You even mention the kind of stuff he doesn’t usually share, not because he’s hiding it, but because he didn’t think you’d notice. But you do.

It’s a strange feeling—being known like this. He tries to brush it off, but it stays with him, lingering in his chest.

Felix nods along, smiling warmly. "That’s impressive. I’ve heard you’re pretty sharp in the OR."

Jeongin shrugs, keeping his reply short again. "Just doing my job."

Once more, the conversation starts slipping away from him, with you and Felix talking like old friends. Jeongin isn’t sure if it’s because Felix is easy to talk to, or if it’s just that the two of you seem to have this natural flow. Either way, Jeongin feels more like a spectator than a participant.

“Jeongin, you’re pretty athletic too, right?” Felix asks after a pause, trying to loop him back into the conversation.

“Yeah. A bit,” Jeongin answers, glancing at his plate. He’s tempted to shut down completely, but something in the way Felix keeps trying to engage him makes him feel slightly guilty.

Still, it’s hard to focus when Felix’s attention keeps drifting back to you. Every joke, every story feels like another reminder of how well you and Felix click. And that doesn’t sit well with him.

You’re both laughing at something Felix said, and Jeongin’s jaw clenches ever so slightly. He’s tempted—so tempted—to say something. Maybe drop a line about how you and Felix don’t match, or make some sarcastic comment about Felix’s efforts to befriend him. But he holds back. It wouldn’t be right.

Just as Jeongin feels the tension boiling in his chest, your phone buzzes on the table. You glance at the screen, your brows furrowing.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” you say, standing up and excusing yourself. "I’ll be back in a minute."

Jeongin watches you leave, his thoughts racing. Alone with Felix, he feels exposed. There’s no buffer now, and he’s not sure if he can handle more forced conversation.

Felix, still smiling, leans back in his chair. “So... the two of you. What’s the story there?” His tone is casual, but Jeongin can sense there’s more to the question.

Jeongin’s grip on his fork tightens, and for a second, he considers telling Felix exactly how he feels. About the tension, the confusion, the frustration of trying to figure out what the hell is going on between the two of you. But instead, he stays silent.

Felix chuckles lightly, mistaking Jeongin’s silence for shyness. “I can see that the two of you are close.”

Jeongin finally meets Felix’s eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s tempted to say something—anything—to throw Felix off.

Maybe something along the lines of, *You two don’t even look good together*. But he knows it’s pointless. He doesn’t even know what kind of relationship *he* has with you, let alone how you and Felix fit into the picture.

Before Jeongin can say anything, you come back to the table, phone still in hand, looking a little flustered.

“I’ve got to head back to the hospital,” you announce, already grabbing your things. “Emergency surgery. I’m really sorry.”

Felix waves it off with a grin. “Don’t worry about it. Go save some lives.”

Jeongin’s gaze flickers to you, a sudden pang of disappointment hitting him. Not because you’re leaving, but because he thought this dinner—awkward as it was—might have been a chance to get somewhere.

You shoot Jeongin an apologetic look. "Please, continue with the dinner!"

Before he can respond, you’re already gone, rushing out of the restaurant and leaving him alone with Felix.

Since Jeongin rode with you earlier, and Felix insisted on giving him a lift home, Jeongin finds himself with no other option but to accept the offer. He slides into the passenger seat, the quiet hum of the car engine filling the space.

"So, where do you live?" Felix asks, his deep voice carrying easily in the enclosed space.

"Uh... actually, can you drop me off at the hospital? I need to get my car," he replies, keeping his tone polite. After all, Felix is the director of the hospital, and it’s best to maintain a sense of professionalism.

Felix gives him a kind smile, his eyes briefly flicking from the road to Jeongin. "It’s fine, I can drive you home. You can always pick up your car tomorrow."

Jeongin’s jaw tightens slightly. Something about Felix always makes it hard to refuse, no matter how much Jeongin wants to. "It’s just that I... I need to grab something from my car," he lies, feeling the tension creep up his spine.

Felix eyes him for a moment, then nods slowly. "Alright. I’ll take you to the hospital."

They drive in relative silence, the weight of Jeongin’s unease hanging between them. When they finally reach the hospital entrance, Jeongin quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door.

"Thanks again. For the dinner... and the ride," Jeongin says, forcing a smile as he steps out.

Felix waves it off with a warm smile of his own. "Please, don’t mention it."

That smile, so genuine, makes Jeongin feel worse for how bitter he had been during dinner. He watches as Felix’s car pulls away, the taillights fading into the distance before he turns and heads inside.

At the nurse’s station, Jeongin gathers the information he needs, quietly asking for your whereabouts. As soon as he hears you're in the operating room, he makes his way to the observational deck of OR 2.

From behind the glass, Jeongin watches you work. You're in the middle of a liver transplant, your movements precise, focused, and deliberate. It's clear that your approach to surgery differs from his. While Jeongin relies on his instincts, going with his gut and adjusting as the situation unfolds, you’re methodical—each step planned and calculated, every possible complication considered before it even happens.

Yet, despite these differences, Jeongin knows that you share the same ultimate goal: saving lives. It’s what both of you swore to do when you took the Hippocratic oath. And even though your methods diverge, your dedication is something Jeongin has always admired.

Looking down from the observational deck, Jeongin enjoys watching you like this—in your element, calm and collected. Here, in the operating room, it’s like you belong, completely immersed in the task at hand, leaving no room for error.

He watches as you instruct your team, your focus unwavering, and he feels a pang in his chest. He likes that you give everything to your work, pouring yourself into every surgery as if it’s the only thing that matters in the world. But he hates how you don’t give yourself that same care, how you don’t seem to see just how incredible you are, how all the lives you've saved are a testament to your brilliance.

Jeongin leans back, his arms crossed over his chest, a quiet smile playing on his lips. He likes that he knows someone as dedicated as you, someone who can match him in passion and skill. But more than that, he likes you. And that’s something he’s been trying to come to terms with for a while now.

It’s always a relief to know the operation went well, but there’s nothing quite like the satisfaction of seeing it go exactly as you anticipated. You peel off your gloves, discard the mask, and shed the surgical scrubs, taking a moment to make yourself presentable before facing the patient’s family. They’re waiting for you, their eyes full of worry and hope.

"The operation went well," you tell them immediately, knowing it’s what they need to hear most.

One of them nearly buckles with relief, her knees giving way as she clutches her chest. "Oh, goodness..."

You keep your tone calm but clear as you explain further, "We’ll be monitoring closely to ensure the body accepts the transplant, but so far, everything looks good."

"Thank you so much, doctor!" another family member exclaims, gripping your hand tightly, her gratitude palpable.

"You shouldn’t thank me. You should be thanking the donor." you say gently, reminding them of where their gratefulness should be delivered to.

With that, you excuse yourself and head back inside, the echoes of their thanks fading behind you. Once you reach the locker room, you allow yourself a moment to decompress. Sitting on the bench, you let your body relax, the weight of the day finally starting to lift from your shoulders.

After taking the time to unwind, you wash up and change into fresh scrubs. It’s late, too late to head home, so you decide to spend the night in your office.

When you enter, you’re surprised to find Jeongin sitting on the sofa. The room is dim, the only light coming from the small lamp on your desk. He’s sitting there quietly, his face partially hidden in the shadows.

"Why are you here?" you ask as you move closer and sit down beside him on the couch.

"I just want to," he replies, his tone casual, as if that’s all the explanation you need. Typical Jeongin.

You open a bottle of water and take a long sip, letting the silence stretch for a moment.

"How was the rest of the dinner?" you ask, trying to fill the quiet.

"It was alright," he says vaguely, and it’s just like him to be frustratingly noncommittal. It bothers you a little, but you’ve grown used to it by now.

"He likes you, you know," you say, wanting to clear up any misunderstanding about the dinner with Felix.

Jeongin frowns, clearly confused. "Who?"

"Felix," you answer, watching his expression carefully.

"If he likes me, he should raise my salary and give me a new car," Jeongin jokes, and you can’t help but laugh at his obliviousness. He doesn’t see the difference between being someone’s favorite colleague and being their romantic interest.

You take another sip of water, then put the cap back on the bottle and set it aside. "He likes you as in he wants to date you."

That seems to catch him off guard. He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, clearly trying to process the information.

"But I don’t like him," he says after a long pause, his voice colder than you expect.

"Why?" you ask, turning to look at him. "He’s a great guy."

His eyes meet yours in the dim light, dark and unreadable. He’s quiet for a moment, and then, in a low voice, he says, "Because he’s not you."

The words hit you harder than you expect, lingering in the quiet room like a confession you weren’t prepared to hear.

Jeongin doesn’t know whether to feel relieved that Felix wasn’t interested in you or uneasy at the idea that Felix wants to date him. Either way, the misunderstanding settles heavily on him, and now that everything is clear, it feels like the right time to speak his truth. He knows it could change things between you, but he’s never been one to hold back when something matters.

"But I don’t like him," Jeongin states, his voice firm, filled with certainty.

"Why? He’s a great guy," you reply, seemingly unaware of the tension in his eyes, the kind of tension that only exists when someone is holding something back.

"Because he’s not you," he finally reveals, the words falling from his lips before he has a chance to second-guess them.

Your eyes lock with his, and instead of brushing it off or retreating, you hold his gaze, searching. You’re looking for any hint that he’s just toying with you, but there’s nothing in his eyes except sincerity.

"I like you," Jeongin admits, his voice softer now, vulnerable. He keeps his eyes on you, giving you the chance to look right into him, to see that he means every word.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenge, your voice edged with doubt. "We’re not exactly what people call a match made in heaven."

You laugh, but it’s a bitter sound as you add, "a match made in hell more like."

Jeongin shakes his head, brushing away your cynicism like it doesn’t matter to him in the slightest.

"I don’t care what people think," he says, his voice filled with the quiet confidence that defines him. He never has cared about others' opinions, especially not now, when something real is at stake.

Before you can say anything else, before you can retreat back into doubt or second-guess his intentions, he cups your face in his hand and pulls you toward him. His lips meet yours in a kiss that leaves no room for misinterpretation. It’s not rushed, not hesitant—just honest, as if he’s pouring every unspoken word into that moment. If words weren’t enough to convince you, maybe this will.

The room is dim, shadows pooling around the edges, but the quiet has dissolved into a symphony of shared moans and the sound of skin meeting skin.

Your naked bodies are entwined on the sofa, Jeongin’s weight pressing you firmly beneath him. Your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer with each steady thrust.

His movements are deliberate, each one more intense than the last, as if he’s letting you know with his body that every touch, every motion, has meaning behind it. His lips are locked onto yours, claiming you with kisses that steal your breath, each one deep and consuming.

The occasional moan escapes from you, slipping into his mouth between kisses, but it’s not just the physical that overwhelms you this time. It’s the rawness, the intensity, the vulnerability.

This is more than just lust, more than just pleasure—this feels personal, like every inch of him is offering something deeper.

It becomes too much, emotions stirring within you in ways you can’t control. You need more than just the moment—you need certainty. Your hand moves to his chest, gently pressing him back.

"Jeongin, I want you," you say, your voice soft but resolute.

He halts, his brow furrowed, puzzled by your words. You’re having him right now, aren’t you? His breath is shallow as he props himself up, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"And I want you," he mutters back, bracing himself against the sofa, trying to make sense of the moment.

You push him a little further, enough that his body reluctantly pulls out of yours. "If you want me..." you whisper, your fingers wrapping around the base of the condom, peeling it away with slow intent until it snaps. You look into his eyes, guiding him back toward you, but this time, without any lay of protection between you.

"... Then I want you to show me," you continue, bringing him to your entrance once more, your body inviting him back inside, bare and exposed.

His cock sinks into you, filling you completely, and a shudder courses through both of you as you take him all in. You grip his shoulders, pulling him down until your bodies are flush together again, the heat between you almost unbearable.

You kiss him hastily, dragging your lips to his ear, whispering words that send a pulse of need through him, "Cum inside me. Claim me. Make me yours."

There’s a shift in Jeongin then, something both primal and tender. He knows what this means, the weight of responsibility, the choice he’s making. But more than anything, he’s ready—ready for you, for this, for wherever this takes him.

His lips brush against yours, lingering for a moment before he pulls back just enough to say, "You’re already mine."

And then he’s moving again, thrusting into you with more conviction, more purpose, every stroke filled with the warmth of his feelings for you. This isn’t just about lust or release—this is him claiming you, and in turn, letting himself be claimed by you.

As he continues, his pace growing more fervent, you can feel the connection deepening, the lines between colleagues, friends, and now lovers, blurring into something more.

Jeongin has you now, in every way he’s ever wanted, and nothing feels more right.

The tension in the room is palpable as Jeongin stalks toward you, eyes narrowed in frustration. You can see the confusion on the faces of the nurses and residents around you, everyone wondering why the two of you can’t ever seem to get along. If only they knew.

"Next time, think before you act," Jeongin snaps, arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down. "You’re not the only doctor here."

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. "I’ll try, but not all of us can make every decision like you, Doctor Perfect."

There’s an audible gasp from one of the nurses, and you feel the tension in the room skyrocket. But instead of getting angrier, you catch the slightest smirk on Jeongin’s lips, just for you.

He steps closer, his voice lowering just enough that only you can hear. "You’re pushing it," he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing.

You glance up at him, your heart racing. "And you love it," you say under your breath.

The others in the room think you’re at each other’s throats again, but beneath the surface, your teasing exchanges carry a completely different meaning. Jeongin’s eyes flash with that familiar mix of frustration and something else, something that always leaves you feeling on edge.

"You keep acting like this, and people are going to start thinking I actually hate you," he says, his voice low but filled with amusement.

"Maybe you do," you shoot back, but your lips twitch as if fighting a smile.

The argument seems heated enough to the others, but you know the truth. This is just a game, one you’ve both gotten dangerously good at. To the outside world, you’re bitter colleagues who can’t agree on anything. But in private…

Jeongin steps even closer, brushing past you as if he’s done with the conversation. His fingers briefly graze your hand, and your heart skips a beat. As he walks away, his voice drops so low it sends a shiver down your spine.

"Meet me in the supply closet in five."

Your pulse quickens, and as he leaves the room, you can’t help but smirk. Everyone else in the room is left awkwardly silent, confused by the ongoing tension, while you’re counting the minutes until you can slip away.

Soon enough, you find each other in the enclosed space. The tension from earlier still clings to the air, but there’s an underlying current of something else now—something electric.

"You know," Jeongin says, standing so close facing you, "for two people who supposedly can’t stand each other, we end up in situations like this a lot."

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight between you. "Maybe we’re just bad at pretending."

He smirks, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "Or maybe we’re just bad at staying away."

There’s a charged silence, the kind that always seems to follow you both around—like you’re constantly on the verge of either fighting or… something else.

"You frustrate me," you admit, meeting his gaze head-on.

Jeongin chuckles, stepping closer. "The feeling’s mutual."

But there’s no malice in his voice, just something warmer, something deeper. His foxy eyes, usually sharp and guarded, soften just a little as he looks at you. You can tell he’s thinking, deciding whether to break the unspoken rules you’ve both built around this secret.

"Why do we keep doing this?" you ask, your voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

Jeongin steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

"Because we don’t know how to stop," he says softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. His touch is gentle, contrasting with the fiery arguments and clashing wills that define so much of your time together.

"Jeongin…" you murmur, but whatever you were going to say gets lost as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is slow at first, almost testing, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into it, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. It’s not rushed or frantic, but it’s full of everything that’s been bubbling beneath the surface for so long—the frustration, the tension, the unspoken feelings.

His hands settle on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. But you’re not going anywhere. Not now.

When you finally pull back, both of you breathless, he rests his forehead against yours.

"We’re a mess," he mutters, but there’s a smile on his lips, a warmth in his voice that wasn’t there before.

"Yeah," you agree, your voice soft but teasing. "But we work, don’t we?"

Jeongin chuckles, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Somehow, we do."

You smile, pulling him down for another kiss, this one more playful, as if to remind him that no matter how many arguments or misunderstandings there are, you always come back to this—to each other.

"You know," you murmur against his lips, "we’re going to keep arguing in front of everyone."

Jeongin laughs, his breath warm against your skin. "Let them think what they want," he whispers, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "They’ll never know."

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing there in the quiet. No arguments, no pretense. Just you, Jeongin, and the unspoken understanding that whatever this is between you—it’s real. Messy, complicated, and maybe even a little dysfunctional. But it’s yours.

And maybe that’s enough.

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aliidarling · 2 months ago

Note

Hi im really new to this danny Johnson fandom but i really love your fic.

Can i request something for danny and fem s/o surviver who is cosplay his ghostface costume in the trial pls

hewo anon!! i tried my best :3 i may of written a lil too much..

kinktober; cosplaying ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

— nsfw content

summary; you’re spawned into trial wearing danny’s robe, a sick joke from the entity. danny finds this very amusing.

warnings; danny johnson, stabbing, violence, blood, dbd stuff, p in v, mean and nice danny, they’re kinda in a relationship, rubbing, pussy slapping, choking, rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex(wrap before u tap) no beta read we die like danny victims

the entity was a sadistic creature, feeding off everyone’s misery and pain, growing more hungry day and night. it never had a soft spot for you, always humiliating you with embarrassing outfits while everyone else had normal ones.

some trials you’d spawn in your pajamas, others a bikini, once even your own undergarments. each time drew you closer to insanity, especially when a certain someone found it absolutely hilarious. you and danny weren’t friends, but he loved to treat you like a lover. he loved to tease you and tunnel you first out of the match or keep you for last to have fun when no one else was around.

you could never predicts his next move. kill you or fuck you?

this time, it was like the entity was throwing a big ‘fuck you’ to your face, because to your absolute horror, when you spawned into the match you were dressed in a familar robe and mask. it was a taunting punch in the face.

it wasn’t very funny to your fellow survivors either, considering meg burst out into a sprint at the sight of you and yui’s first reaction was to flashlight you. you hissed in discomfort at the bring flash to your eyes, waving your hands aggressively.

“hey, stop that! it’s me!” you groaned loudly, making yui freeze in surprise. she narrows her eyes at you, a scowl tugging at her lips at your little costume.

“what the fuck? why are you dressed like that freak?” she huffs, leaning closer to see your eyes through the masks peephole. from a distance, you really did look like danny, but from up close you’d be able to tell it was you from your height and smaller figure, as well as your long lashes peeping from the masks eyeholes.

“i told you, the entity hates me.” you whine dramatically, shaking your head and looking around for a sign of the killer. so far, silence. it was too quiet. you really hoped it wasn’t him, that would be even more humiliating. she snickers and pokes the robes fabric, humming in appreciation.

“it’s good fabric.” she comments.

“yeah, it smells like men’s cologne.” you grumble in annoyance, tugging the fabric. she shrugs before tugging you onto a generator.

a few minutes later, you hear a scream come from the forest surrounding the both of you. you cringe at the male voice, recognizing it as steve. poor boy always got tunneled out, mostly because of his annoying attitude. you remembered the fact danny hated steve so much for some odd reason. you shuddered at the thought of danny being the killer this round.

yui frowns at the scream and turns to you, just finishing the generator. your surroundings light up and you both know you only have a few seconds before the killer arrives looking for bloodshed.

“i’ll go get the save, you go get on another generator, that good with you?” she smiled, giving you a quick nod before rushing into the dark abyss around you two, leaving you alone.. in a stupid robe.

you sighed to yourself before starting to wander, your eyes glancing around frantically. you heard twigs crunching and the sound of the wind brushing against the leaves, an eerie atmosphere smothering you. the air was foggy, not letting you see too far infront of you. you hated red forest, with its stupid rain and the mud sticking to your soles.

you shiver as another twig snaps right behind you, making you flinch and let out a small yelp. you look over your shoulder, frowning at the silence that follows.

a sudden feeling of exposure stabs you, making you gasp and look around frantically. you were exposed, you had gotten stalked, that meant—

“are you cosplaying me, doll?” a voice sneers at you from behind, startling you. you yelp as a knife barely misses your gut, sending your body tumbling into the grass. you quickly get back onto your feet, gawking under your plastic mask at his tall figure that looked over you. he was wearing his usual tactical costume, the white shriek tilting its head at you mockingly, blood splattered all over his armor.

“danny,” you gasp for air, quickly patting some dirt off the costume. he snickers lowly, stepping forward slowly. “i knew you had a crush on me, but cosplaying me? you’re so obsessed.” he laughs.

“don’t get ahead of yourself.” you scoff, looking around for a pallet or shack. this man always knew how to get on your nerves, but he also knew exactly how to make you submit to him. he knew your body better then you did, and you couldn’t help but crave him whenever you saw him.

“awww, but you look sooo cute~ what’s wrong? why’re you running? am i scaring you?” he coo’s, a big smirk on his devilishly handsome face underneath his mask. his body lunges towards you once again, missing by mere centimeters as you manage to maneuver around the slash.

“you psycho!” you shriek, breaking out into a sprint towards the nearest pallet. he rolls his eyes and sprints after you, his knife held up high. “you’re just realizing that?”

as you reach the pallet, you don’t get very far into looping before the sensation of a sharp blade being shoved deep into your back sends you stumbling into the mud, gasping for air and choking on your own blood. you whine in pain, feeling him scoop you up into his arms casually.

with other survivors he’d always throw them over his shoulder without any care, hand on their back, but with you he always held you like a little kid. your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms lazily wrapped around his neck as he squeezed your butt. you relaxed into his neck reluctantly as he carries you towards a hook.

“i’ll see you later, sweet pea.” he coos as he hooks you, a scream resonating from the bottom of your throat as the sharp metal slices through your shoulder. tears sting at the corner of your eyes as you watch him crouch down into a bush and rush off like the little cockroach he is. what a dick.

you eventually get saved by steve, before you witness him getting downed by danny and gutted on the floor. danny’s mori was always brutal and gut-wrenching to watch, especially the way he was always extra aggressive when it came to poor little steve.

more screams echo throughout red forest as you fiddle with the generator infront of you, the thick robe you wore lending you warmth from the rain. his stupid little get up was actually a little helpful.

yui’s scream is the last thing you hear before a lack of sound follows. a stillness of death, you quickly realize. you were the last one, which means hatch had spawned. you could hear the sound of the fog near by, luring you towards the gateway back to camp. you quickly jumped up from the generator and started walking into the trees, hugging yourself under the robe.

you were alone, and it never felt more terrifying. the thought of danny lingering nearby and looking for you sends goosebumps down your spine, a frown tugging at your lips. the sound of twigs snapping has your heart beat racing. you had to find hatch quick before—

you yelp loudly as you’re grabbed from behind, a large arm around your waist pushing you against his chest. your mask is ripped off your face and you gasp at the sudden fast action, your hair tangled from the rough handling. you blink in surprise as you’re met face to face with his mask, his hands crawling up your sides.

“c’mon.” he mutters, not giving you much of a choice before he picks you up like always and holds you close. you don’t fight back. you think danny was in a good mood from killing everyone else. you hesitantly hug him back as he carries you to the killer shack, relaxing slightly as you’re sheltered from the rain and the fog.

you don’t say a word as he pushes you down onto the wooden flooring, a small whimper leaving you as he presses his knee between your legs through your robe. you can’t see his expression through his mask but you can see his dark eyes looking you up and down hungrily, drinking in the sight of you in such a similar outfit.

“you look so god damn good.” he growls, pushing your shoulders back almost roughly. a small thud is heard as you lean your head back, an exhale slowly leaving you as his hands feel you up through the black fabric. his gloves are rough as they rub your waist and cup your breasts, gently massaging the supple skin, drawing a soft moan from you.

“didn’t seem like you thought that earlier.” you whispered, parting your thighs more to roll your hips into his knee, aching for touch against your sensitive lower body. a pout tugs at your lips as you remembered how mean he was, how he downed you without any care.

he snickers lowly at your pouty expression, bringing a hand from your breasts up to your face. he squished your cheeks together for a few seconds, relishing in how adorable you look, before raising his other hand off your breasts to tug his own mask off. his dark locks spill out, finally getting freed from the hood it’s been caged in.

“curse me for wanting to see my pretty girl covered in a little bit of blood, am i right?” he hums smoothly, leaning his head down to press his lips against yours, entangling you in a passionate kiss. his hands wrap around you, pulling you to press against him, a content moan coming from both of your mouths at the friction.

“shut up, you’re not funny.” you scoff softly against his lips, parting for a small inhale of oxygen. a trail of saliva connects to two of you before he smashes his lips against yours once again hungrily, not wanting to miss out on your taste.

“i think i’m gonna have you in this robe while i fuck you, sweetheart, i just don’t have the heart to pull it off. you look so,” he groans into the kiss, tugging at your hairs like a crazed man, grinding his hips against yours, “fucking,” he gasps, hands trailing down your body to slide under the felt fabric, “good.”

his hands find their way under your panties and start to rub tight circles onto your clit, making you gasp and moan into the kiss, trying to pull away for your over-due deserved air. he steals your gasps and moans, inhaling it into his mouth as he hungrily kisses you without an inch of hesitance.

“danny..” you whimper, finally pulling away from his lips to bury your face into his bloody robed-chest. the blood of your friends smother over your face, making your face scrunch up in momentary discomfort. the stench is metallic mixed in with his cheap cologne. it smells just like him.

his fingers are talented with the way they rub figure eights onto your sensitive bud, knowing exactly which direction and angle to do it from, how to make you cum so hard you see white. he knows every secret of your body and how to pleasure you, and he especially knows you like his hand around your throat.

“please, please,” you ramble, whimpering as his gloved-hand comes up to gently wrap around your throat, squeezing just the right amount of pressure to have you squealing under him. whining for more, your knees against your chest with your pussy throbbing for more.

“please just fuck me.” you sob, trying to grind your pussy against his hand. he pulls his fingers away from your clit for a split second, a split second too long— you whine at the loss of contact, before inhaling sharply when he suddenly delivers a harsh smack to your wet pussy.

“h-hey!” you shriek, jolting and letting out a high pitched moan, voice cracking. he scoffs and delivers two more smacks before returning his fingers to your clit, rubbing it just right, tightening his hold on your neck as well. your eyes roll back at the stimulation, almost drooling and squirming your feet weakly.

“don’t tell me what to do, got it?” he growls, giving you a harsh glare that has you clenching down on air. he could spit on your face and you’d moan for more, begging for a kiss.

“m’sorry, please, danny, need you.” you whimper pathetically under your breath, eyes fluttering close. your lashes lay flat against your puffy cheeks, face scrunched up into a tight expression of overwhelming pleasure. you were practically dripping, throbbing for his cock.

“yeah? is that so?” he laughs mockingly, noticing how you started to tense up. you were close, he already knew, with the way your brows furrow together and your lips parted subconsciously. he hums and pushes the thumb of his hand under your chin, raising your head higher while also squeezing your airways. “you wanna cum for me, sweet girl? gonna cover my gloves with your cum? soak the fabric?”

his taunting words only drive you further down that road, the destination being an orgasm. you nod dumbly, panting for air as the knot in your tummy tightens more and more, almost cramping your belly from how hard you needed it to snap.

a demeaning smile tugs at his lips as he watches you soundlessly beg to cum. he hums in feigned thought, rubbing hard, before suddenly parting when he knew you were about to unfold. he grins down at your shocked expression and sends once again, another harsh smack to your pussy.

“hey! ow— w-what the hell?” you gasp for air, sitting up weakly with your elbows, frowning up at him. your robe was lifted to above your knees, your legs parted infront of him with your pussy on display. clit swollen, pussy soaked, pouty expression… he loved rendering you so desperate.

he shrugs casually and presses another ‘sweet’ kiss to your lips, licking your lips before he parts. you whine and pull away, still grumbly after having your orgasm denied. his smile is devilish and you know he’s the devil, with red horns and a sinister (smelly) aura.

“shhh, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” he shushes, petting your hair and pressing little kisses to your face everywhere but your lips. you reluctantly nuzzle into the puppy affection, face scrunching up, hands going to gently tug him closer to you. his eyes glisten with satisfaction, before pushing you back onto your back and opening your legs.

“hold them for me, kay?” he coo’s, leading your hands to hold you knees against your chest. you nod without a word, your ankles in the air by your head as you hold yourself open for the love-sick psycho on top of you. one hand glides up and down your folds, collecting your slickness on his fingers, brushing against your sensitive clit barely.

his other hand undresses himself swiftly, eager to sink himself inside your warmth. he pulls his robe and armor, leaving him in tight briefs that hug his cock, the large bulge obvious. he was hard as a rock after edging you.

a small whimper leaves your throat as he rubs his thick tip against your wet hole, watching as it clenches down, begging for him to push in nice and deep. he coo’s softly at the sight, grinning at the lewd sight and how soaked you were for him.

“you want me in your little pussy, baby?” he mumbles, one hand rubbing his cock against you, the other keeping your robe bunched up above your waist. the sight of you in his robe with blood on your face and hands aroused him more then he thought was possible.

“yes please,” you cry desperately, trying to press your needy body against his in a pleading attempt for friction. he tuts, his hand going to rub your belly. “want me in here? warming up your lil’ belly with my big cock? yeah?” he laughs meanly.

you cry out softly as he slides his tip in, gasping in relief at the small sensation before frowning in shock as he immediately pulls back. his cocky expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you can’t say you’re too surprised. he was known for being a horrible tease, never letting you fully enjoy the experience.

“stop being mean, danny!” you whine, tugging at his dark hair, scowling up at him. he might just cum from your pretty face and tugs on his hair alone, like a pathetic teenage boy.

“ugh, such a party pooper.” he murmured, not giving you a moment to process his words before he fully sheathes himself into you, a deep growl coming from his throat as his cock is tightly squeezed. his hands claw at your sides, pulling you impossibly closing, grinding his hips into your soft body and trying to push deeper even if it wasn’t feasible.

your breath is knocked out of your lungs, clenching down hard as his cock bullies itself into your tight pussy. you whimper pathetically, feeling the burn as you melt into his body. even with the pain, the feeling of him sliding into you was always so euphoric. it brought a sense of relief and goosebumps, feeling him stretch you out so intensely.

“yeah? keep telling me about it.” he snickers in response to your panting and incoherent mumbles, nuzzling his nose into yours, offering a sense of platitude. he hums softly and rolls his hips into yours, not pulling out one bit, instead rubbing his cock into your walls deeply. your noises only drive him more motivated to ruin you.

after a few long minutes of him rutting into you like an animal in heat, he finally pulls out briefly before he slams back into you, making you cry out and tighten your hold him you. he huffs under his breath, digging his palms into your soft flesh, focusing his eyes on the sight of his cock disappearing into your tight hole over and over again.

the sight is erotic, you limp underneath him with your legs spread wide, his thick cock beating your pussy walls punching your cervix sore, blood in your hands with some saliva from messy kisses slathered on your lips and chin. your eyes are dazed as each thrust has your brain flying around in your little head, your body being pressed harder into the cold flooding underneath you.

“that feels good?” he rasps, slightly out of breath from the exercise, his hips not stopping for a single second. he was hell bent on using your pussy well. he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, pushing himself deeper, groaning into your mouth at the more in-depth angle as he sloppily makes out with you.

little cries and whimpers are swallowed by him as he thrusts against you, battering your pussy with his cock, holding your body tightly and not letting you pull away. he pulls out before shoving each inch back in, his eyes rolling back at the tight sensation. the air is full of sweat and the room is scented with sex, the sound of squelching and slapping being the only thing audible. you were glad everyone else had been sacrificed, as screwed up as that is. it would be even more humiliating if someone walked in on danny using your pussy like a fleshlight.

“yessss,” you cry out desperately, little hands clawing at his neck to pull him in for another desperate kiss, the both of you moaning into each others mouth. it’s sloppy and brutal, his pace, your noises being swallowed by each other. all you can think about is how good it feels to have him inside you and shape your walls for him, to have him so close and squishing you into the ground.

he gasps sharply as your body begins to clamp down on him, brows furrowing in focus as he rams into you over and over again. he can recognize when you’re about to orgasm, he knows you well by now, he knows by the way you tighten and your face scrunches up in bliss. his hand swipes from your waist to your clit, rubbing tight circles.

“c’mon, you wanna cum for me? wanna be a good little slut and squirt all over this cock? hurry the fuck up then,” he hisses lowly, stimulating your clit aggressively and making you weakly kick your legs, gasping for air at how overwhelmed you were. his other hand goes to grip your throat and squeeze at your air ways. your head goes numb and you feel drool come from your mouth and into your chin, lips parted dumbly as you lay there like a doll, being fucked hard.

“god, you’re so fucking dumb, laying there like a stupid rag doll.” he growls, squeezing your throat a few extra times before snapping his hips forward one last time, a deep groan escaping his throat as he feels your cum squirt around his cock and drip out of your hole. a creamy white ring forms around his cock as he lazily thrusts, admiring the messy sight, a cocky grin tugging at his lips.

after a few long minutes of him torturing you, he finally cums deep inside of you. he pulls you close and whimpers into your neck, clawing at your soft skin and rolling his hips into yours. your skin is doughy and feels like his favorite pillow as he hugs you tight, humming weakly into your skin as your mixed cum leaks out around his cock.

“how’re you feeling, doll?” he asks quietly, pulling back to gaze into your eyes. you offer a weak smile as he gives you a little peck, his hands going to wipe some stray tears before pulling away. he looks down at your used-pussy and smiles in pride, grinning.

“yeah, i messed her up realll bad, huh?” he chuckled, swiping a finger over your swollen hole and sensitive clit, giggling at how you jump. “so sensitive.” he mocks gently.

you nod weakly in response, too out of it to process his words fully. he coos and scoops you up, gently petting your hair and fixing your panties and robe, nuzzling his nose into yours.

“let’s find you hatch, kay?” he squishes your cheeks lovingly, smiling.

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