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simpjaes · 2 months

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ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ― modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS― jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him,

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment.

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum.

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis.

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club.

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go.

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time.

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup.

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum.

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time.

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least.

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city.

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here.

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home.

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days.

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear.

You’re going to the booming “after life”.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains.

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink.

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place.

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think.

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you.

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual.

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering.

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast.

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile.

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think.

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night?

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway.

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you.

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it?

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely.

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through.

God, it’s more beautiful inside.

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head.

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time.

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of.

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest.

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows.

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission.

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work.

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club.

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her.

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be.

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food.

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home.

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that.

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory.

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go.

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass.

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest.

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step.

And suddenly, your body freezes.

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of.

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach.

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?”

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound.

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up.

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there.

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take.

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun.

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring.

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine.

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache.

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep.

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you.

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though.

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person.

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers.

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself.

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend.

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright.

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around.

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile.

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan.

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.”

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work.

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.”

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him.

“So, it’s Friday.”

He bounces on his feet.

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.”

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?”

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.”

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun.

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.”

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance.

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.”

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong.

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless.

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls.

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something.

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up.

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club.

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist.

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.”

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye.

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling.

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile.

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness.

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face.

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes.

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?”

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you.

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.”

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly.

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground.

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.”

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying.

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone.

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?”

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar.

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink.

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar.

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man.

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat.

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him.

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?”

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head.

“Red death, please. Two of them.”

The man nods with a knowing smile.

“I saw that you came here with someone.”

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him.

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence.

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.”

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge.

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else.

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other.

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment.

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again.

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts.

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie.

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it.

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger.

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long.

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you.

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry.

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost.

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!”

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you.

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach.

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people.

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.”

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now.

“Okay, lets get you to-”

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd.

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom.

And it’s still suffocating in here.

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now.

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing.

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you.

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?”

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you.

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing.

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly.

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again.

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face.

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out.

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.”

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.”

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh.

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening.

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them.

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful.

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone.

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you.

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it.

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you.

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll.

And, well, you do get home safe.

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame?

Fuck no.

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again.

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist.

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course.

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers.

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose.

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out.

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you.

And, well. The night is a blur.

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again.

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it.

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again.

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity.

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point.

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness.

And you search.

And search.

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point.

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you.

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off.

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it.

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point.

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club.

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp.

Or human trafficking.

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own.

Still, you nod to the bouncer.

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?”

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face.

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste.

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy.

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows.

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours.

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow.

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting.

Again.

A third meeting.

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?”

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him.

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears.

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?”

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times.

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine.

Pretending you’re not interested.

Wondering why it is that you are, actually.

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?”

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention.

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply.

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?”

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender.

What was his name again?

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no.

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away.

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers.

You should find Jungwon and cling to him.

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run.

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.”

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon.

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present.

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club.

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color.

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors.

Blue, red, green–

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit.

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow.

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think.

Was it not a dream?

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh.

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room.

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them.

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse?

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind?

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like this time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you.

He’s definitely looking for you.

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back.

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?”

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation.

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before.

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room.

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you.

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more.

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?”

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.”

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall.

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.”

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all.

“Come now, dear.”

Reluctantly, you follow her.

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be.

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence.

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat.

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is.

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought you I had you, too.”

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.”

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.”

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability.

Again, red.

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands.

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale.

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?”

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak.

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed.

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?”

Exhale.

“Me.”

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch.

Well, goddamn.

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up.

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.”

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even.

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place.

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain.

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him.

God, he’s so charming.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep.

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here.

“Where were you?” He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door.

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies.

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.”

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys.

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it.

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not.

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?”

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend.

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red.

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it.

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him.

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.”

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side.

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk.

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something.

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales?

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world.

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile.

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim.

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay.

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more.

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door.

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him.

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel.

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to.

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway.

Month after month after month. For years and years.

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days.

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies.

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.”

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns.

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.”

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone.

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.”

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen.

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift.

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever.

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake.

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him.

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you.

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here.

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room.

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door.

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him.

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here?

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows.

You feel comfortable, safe.

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives.

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway.

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways.

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget.

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close.

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them.

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back.

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall.

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.”

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door.

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running.

“Do you want to go home?”

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes.

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?”

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist.

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens.

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest.

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now.

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach.

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you.

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made.

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right?

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.”

Oh.

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands.

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.”

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you.

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again.

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours.

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you.

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.”

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly.

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it.

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth.

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep.

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away.

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins.

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.”

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever.

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth.

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.”

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits.

“Now, listen.”

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be.

“Do you hear it?”

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth.

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste.

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon.

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying.

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect.

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least.

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you.

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips.

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears.

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true.

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there.

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath.

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you.

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you.

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that.

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now.

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do.

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own.

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you.

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too.

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him.

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked.

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way.

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood.

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters.

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You.

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him.

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–”

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you.

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it.

Needing you to stay alive.

Insane.

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble.

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either.

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst.

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now.

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs.

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin.

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.”

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?”

Of course you fucking feel it.

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold.

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts.

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants.

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world.

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt.

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are.

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold.

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again.

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?”

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat.

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic?

God, but it feels so, so fucking good.

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah.

So he is.

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead.

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end.

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him?

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him.

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it.

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point.

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up.

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him.

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release.

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed.

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality?

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories.

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying.

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there.

Here it is.

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you.

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it?

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice.

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin.

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long.

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening.

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this.

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.”

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?”

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead.

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.”

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you.

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself.

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.”

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.”

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing.

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek.

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover.

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive.

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing.

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy?

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?”

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive.

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you.

He’s never lied.

You just refused to listen.

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you.

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all.

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to.

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself.

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.”

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.”

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again.

But he didn’t.

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you?

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him.

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

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lalal-99 · 18 days

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Kitty’s New Best Friend {l.f.}

113 "Either I'm insane or you were just masturbating in our living room." 133 "You're being shy now? Really?" 141 "How many times have you jerked off to me?"

Felix x afab!reader | trope: friends to lovers, roommates | wordcount: 2.4k

Synopsis: When your roommate comes home unexpectedly, he finds you in a compromising position on the living room couch, moaning his name. Fortunetly, he's had a hunch about your feelings for a while, and he's willing to help you out.

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Note: I wrote three different version of this over the past two years. This one was the best one, by a mile. Hope you enjoy. Please leave comments, if you want to encourage more content.

Again, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due :)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

He didn’t use to appear in your dirty dreams.

Only months ago, you didn’t need to put a face on the main character of your fantasies—the imagination itself enough to get you going.

That had certainly changed.

It could have been Felix sauntering your shared apartment without a shirt one too many times. It could have been the shoulder to cry on he had lent you after your ex. Hell, it could have even been as trivial as a kind smile for no apparent reason.

Your brain simply shut off and your kitty assumed control. Universally deciding that your roommate was a fitting image to get turned on to.

Now, his face made an appearance in every single one of your daydreams.

When Felix emerged from his room in nothing but a pair of loose hanging sweatpants, your mind went right back to it. It was ridiculous. You didn’t even listen to where he went off to, your fingers already running over his creamy skin in your mind. You felt like a teenager, arousal taking over you the second Felix left the apartment.

None of your other roommates were home which was fortunate. Sure, you could have gone to your bedroom to be safe. But how could you, when the heat reached you right there in the living room. Like it had happened in the shower a few days ago after Felix had sneaked in to get his lotion. You had told him you didn’t mind when in reality, you did. Just not in the way he might have thought.

That day and in your following fantasy, he hadn’t left, but instead joined you under the hot water.

Humming Felix’s name at the sound of your fingers running through your folds, you internally scolded yourself for thinking this way about him. A boy who was so innocently oblivious, he probably had no idea you even jerked off in the first place. Someone so sweet, he brought you candy when you were on your period, brewed you tea after a long day, or gave you massages when... Well, whenever you wanted one.

You were completely immersed in the scenario you had set up in your head, knot in your stomach tightening. So much so your brain took a second too long to recognise the familiar sound of his keys.

Things went very fast from there.

The door opened and Felix walked in to the sight of you. Rushing your hand out of your shorts, your neckline was red from the heat, your hair messier than when he had left. Mere minutes earlier.

“Felix? What the hell are you doing here?” you questioned, shock written on your features. “I thought you went out.”

“I—“ He scanned the situation and before you could stop him, he figured it out. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I went to get some snacks for the movie.”

Oh yes! The memory of your short conversation suddenly came back to you.

Felix had come out of his room, shirtless, recognising the movie playing on the TV in front of you. He had asked you to pause it, so you could watch it together once he came back from the store. Getting you snacks and a bottle of your favourite white, like the perfect roomie he was.

“Were you…” A smirk appeared on Felix’s face as his view wandered down your body to your pants. “Either I’m insane, or you were just masturbating in our living room.” Noticing your eyes shifting and your cheeks reddening in the light of the TV, he yelped. “Oh my God, you were masturbating, weren’t you?”

You struggled finding another excuse that could explain your hands down your pants. Not that it mattered, anyway. Nothing you said, no explanation you could have given, would get your roommate to believe he hadn’t just walked in on you.

Felix placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and strode over to the couch, sliding on next to you. The shit-eating grin on his face only heightened your embarrassment. Not so innocent after all, now that he held something over your head.

“Stop being so smug. It’s not like you don’t do it.” You scratched an invisible itch on your neck.

“But I don’t do it out here where everyone can walk in. Do you have no shame?” Felix was teasing you now, the previously cutesy behaviour shifting. You couldn’t quite pinpoint his demeanour, but it almost seemed seductive. Like, he was definitely flirting, and not in his usual, sweet way. If his next words were anything to go by, it felt even more so. “Or did you want me to walk in on you?”

You almost choked on your saliva. “What? No! Of course not.”

The redness on your face darkened further.

Why would he ever suggest that you had masturbated out in the living room on purpose? Unless… Maybe, subconsciously, you had done just that. Perhaps you wanted to make use of the possibility, him walking in on you. So he could finally help you scratch the itch himself. Not his imaginary self, but the real one, in all his glory. Could your brain have betrayed you like that, without you noticing?

You didn’t quite know what to think.

“It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone about this.” Somehow, that relieved you. Not like you had expected Felix to go around, gloating about it. It still relaxed you to hear it from the man himself. “I only have one question, then we can stop talking about it. Forever.”

Your jaw dropped at his words. So he was blackmailing you now, too? Felix, out of all people. Nice Felix, who never hurt a fly. Cute Felix, whose love language were hugs and cuddles. Smug Felix, who somehow had the upper hand right now.

Your kitty purred at his intrigue, surprising even yourself.

“How many times have you jerked off to me?”

You must have had a mini heart attack at that very second. Unfortunately, you didn’t land in heaven. If anything, this was hell.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Felix replied, bottom lip wandering between his teeth. “And I heard you, moaning my name before. So, how often do you think about me?”

“I don’t— I didn’t— I mean— What?” You were sweating now, unable to form simple sentences. And that was before his hand landed on your naked thigh, squeezing. That’s when you lost the ability to breathe, stomach tensing.

“You’re being shy now? Really?” As his fingers drew figure eights onto your skin, they wandered further up your leg until he reached the hem of your shorts. He played with the band, keeping his irises on you, and your kitty hissed. His proximity was a dangerous game. “What if I told you, I’ve been thinking about it, too?”

What. The. Fuck?

He leaned in, lips close enough to feel his breath on you, and you got dizzy. You didn’t remember drinking any alcohol, but you damn well felt like it. As though you had gotten intoxicated, high, and now you were left to deal with the aftermath.

“Been thinking about you so much. Taking you in your room. In the shower. On this very couch. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His fingers entered your pants, playing with the hem of your underwear. Your breath hitched when his hand cupped you, smirk so close to your face you could hear it. Felix clicked his tongue when he felt your wetness. “I knew it. Not so shy now, are we?”

And you weren’t. Shy, that was. Overwhelmed, sure. Embarrassed, yes. But not shy. Not when you detected the tent in his own sweatpants. Felix wanted this, just like you. Felix was your roommate, best friend and now, potential lover. If anything, you felt most comfortable around him.

The feeling heightened when he gave you a gentle push, urging you to lay back. Felix’s face remained so close to yours, eyes glued to each other as he situated himself above you. His fingers started teasing as he leaned down, faintly pressing his lips to your pulse point. Your eyes stood wide open, searching the ceiling for possible answers to the one question you had.

How the fuck had this happened?

Felix kissed down your body, through the valley of your chest and over your tank top. Right down to your shorts. He must have been able to smell you, but you didn’t care. It was Felix, after all, the boy straight out of your dreams.

“Y/N,” his soft voice called you to catch your attention. When you met his gaze, the world stopped for a moment. The lust had momentarily vanished from his irises and what overtook was care and love. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Don’t.” Your answer couldn’t have come faster, and you meant it. Under no circumstances did you want him to stop. Ever.

With that, the primate inside him gained back control, ridding you of your pants and underwear. All the while, Felix’s stare remained on your face, smiling between kisses he planted on your naked stomach. As though he wanted to capture all your focus and wouldn’t let you divert your eyes for anything.

A last smile sent your way and he dove in.

Your mouth stood agape as you watched him, connect his mouth to your clit, lightly sucking. You spread your legs so he could slot between them, and slot, he did. Key fitting in a lock, he kept your knees apart with his body, the whole couch becoming your playground.

Felix nibbled on your clit like it was sweet candy, gazes locked as his tongue came into play. Prodding, exploring. He looked sinful, like a devilish angle as his blonde locks tickled your bare thighs. A fucking dream-come-true, in the most literal sense.

Licking down your folds, he tasted you, humming in delight. His own personal five course meal.

Early on, you had been taught to never eat with your hands. That it was rude and crude, and ill-mannered. When Felix did it, it was nothing if not delicious. To watch, to hear, his fingers spreading you and entering in soft, gentle strokes.

Soon enough, he was three fingers in, knuckles-deep, petting the sensitive spot so deep you never reached it yourself. And there he was, doing it with so much ease, over and over. Kitty’s new best friend.

For a moment, you lost control, throwing your head back with a loud moan. When Felix squeezed your thigh, gently but determined, you brought your head back.

“Eyes on me, Kitten.”

A whimper at the nickname made him smirk as he scissored you open. His tongue prodded against your opening in sync, delightful as your stomach tensed.

“Oh, fuck—” You brought your hand to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Guiding him, at least as much as he let you. “Please.”

Cocking his head, Felix teased you, playfully confused by your words.

“Please, I need you. Inside. Please.”

With one last calm suck on your nub, he snaked his way up your body. Fingers remained inside you for now, distracting you.

“But I already am. You have to be more specific, Kitten.”

You clenched at the words, and he visibly noticed.

“Your cock. I need you inside me. Please, Felix.” If those words hadn’t driven him crazy already, persuading him, your next ones sure did. “Kitten needs your cock.”

He groaned, fingers coming up to touch your lips. You opened them, licking over his moist rings and he lost himself in the sight. “Such crude words for such a cute Kitten.”

Smearing the last of your essence over your mouth, he began licking it off, taking his sweet time. And then finally, after he had already done much more intimate, he kissed you. Careful and collected turned to desperate and chaotic as tongues melted into one.

Kissing Felix was natural, like you had done it so many times before. And you would have continued doing it, if it hadn’t been for the more pressing issues.

When you bucked up into him, rubbing your naked crotch against his clothed one, he smirked into the kiss. “Eager Kitten.”

“Desperate,” you corrected, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him into you.

Felix drew away to rid himself of his shirt, kneeling on top of you. It must have been the hottest thing you had ever been lucky enough to witness. As he untied the knot in his sweats, your sight remained on his toned torso. Sculptured abs followed a set of muscular pecs and his prominent collar bones. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, wanted to lick it and bite it, too. That was if he let you.

But not right now. Not when all you wanted was for him to devour you like his favourite desert.

Like the absolute menace he was, Felix tugged the hem of his sweats down, revealing the absence of underwear. And to think he walked around the apartment like that, unsucked. It was a real shame.

He stroked himself a couple of times, the other hand running through his messy locks. An undeniable God in human form.

You might have even been drooling, but before you could check, he hovered over you again. “Like what you see?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, curling upwards to connect your lips again.

With your legs still around his hips, it was easy for Felix to position himself. Your walls were clenching already, craving penetration. Some relief. Anything. It didn’t actually matter, as long as it was Felix doing it.

“You know,” he mumbled between kisses, tugging at your lip. It was in that moment, as he was so close, that you noticed the desire in his eyes. But it wasn’t just desire, but so much more. Adoration. Longing. Attraction. Love. “If you had told me about your secret from the start, we could have done this months ago.”

How he had come to know about your infatuation? You had no head to figure it out right that moment.

“However, we do have a lot to make up for. Better get to it, right?”

When Felix slid into you, your eyes rolled back into your head as your breath got caught in your lungs. Finally, after months of distanced yearning, he scratched the same itch that had plagued you for so long.

And your kitty was satisfied at last.

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joelmillers-whore · 6 months

Text

Fuck Me Like You Mean It

summary: a miserable time out at a club turns into quite the night when you run into someone you least expected to see.

word count: 4.9k

series or one-shot

warnings: SMUT, explicit 18+, MDNI, no outbreak, dbf!joel x f!reader, dark!joel, spanking, dubious consent at times, voyeurism, exhibitionism i guess, dirty talking, language, joel calling reader a cock slut, slightly creepy joel, unspecified age gap, daddy kink, brat tamer joel, hand job for a second, manhandling, dominant joel, oral (female and male receiving), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, jealousy if you squint. as always, if i missed something, please let me know.

you are responsible for the content that you consume. please read the warnings before continuing with this fic. enjoy babes.

A/N: i am so sorry firstly for teasing you all with snippets of this one-shot and then just not posting it lol, life has been a little chaotic, to say the least and i was just feeling so uninspired to finish it (literally i do this to myself). but so many of you loved the little teaser i posted and i couldn’t just not give ya’ll some delicious dbf!joel. so, here it is.

ALSO, a huge thank you and shoutout to kylee @hellishjoel for reading and beta-ing this for me, i love you and your freakouts were so valid haha. forehead kisses.

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The pungent stench of sweat curled around your nose, setting your already overstimulated nerves into hyperdrive. Possessive hands pawed at your hips, urging you back into their body, into their growing stiffness.

Normally, you’d be all for it. The game. Going out each weekend, getting shitfaced with your best friend, entertaining men who you would otherwise have no interest in just to see them work for a moment of your attention.

But not tonight, tonight you’d had enough of it all. The handsy men, the unrhythmic and too-loud music, and just the whole played-out scene really. There wasn’t anything to get excited about anymore, each weekend blurring into the same version of the last, and the one before that.

It was boring and you couldn’t tolerate the lacklustre men around you for much longer. So, twisting out of the weak grip of the twenty-something you had been dancing with all this time, you abandoned them and your friend who reeked of desperation.

She’d hounded you all week to go out to a club, hoping to get laid, vetoing your suggestion to just get drunk and find someone at a bar. Now, you were at a seedy club downtown, getting groped from every angle by mediocre-looking men who smelled of too much Axe body spray and sweat.

The mere thought of the combination curdled your stomach, propelling you deeper into the club and all the way to the bar. You thought that alcohol might right your foul mood, your skin already pricking with annoyance at your current circumstances.

Getting to the bar, it was as packed as you had been imagining. Everyone was contending for the bartender’s attention, demanding drinks that you were sure were as watered-down as your first shot had been.

You sighed, wondering why you had let your friend talk you into coming out tonight, when it was the last thing in the world you wanted to be doing.

Lack of desire for the club had turned into plain boredom now, every ounce of your body thrumming with the longing to escape. But you’d never just up and leave your friend, no matter how much you wanted to. You’d just have to grin and bear it.

Tapping your finger along to the music, that wasn’t even good, the slow and melodic electronic music nearly putting you to sleep, you waited for your drink. Finally getting your drink from the bartender, you slurped it down, hoping the subtle sting of the alcohol would wake you up, and trigger something to make your night more enjoyable.

You began to walk back to where you had left your friend, deciding to scoop her drunk ass up and take her back with you to your place to call it a night at... you checked your phone, a pathetic ten-thirty. But you stopped in your tracks when something caught your eye, or rather someone.

Turning your head toward the seated area, which basically served as the VIP section without actually having the name, because there was nothing special about it. Old red velvet couches that had seen better days and probably had every fluid known to man seeped into the cushions, and wobbly tables that were smattered with decade-old stains.

You squinted your eyes, the stage lights blinding you as you put a hand up, shielding your eyes as you attempted to make out a vaguely familiar shape that was sitting in said area. You took a tentative step forward, thinking that your eyes were deceiving you, the wild lights making you see things. Because there was no fucking way that you were actually seeing what you were seeing, no fucking way.

Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight. Your dad’s neighbour, Joel Miller, was sitting on one of the couches, a beer in one hand, his other hand disappearing below the cut of the table. Your eyes followed his hand, trailing down the length of him until they snagged on the back of someone's legs, kneeling below the table.

Your lips parted slightly, completely caught off guard by what you were seeing. You were watching your dad’s neighbour— or better yet, his best friend, get sucked off at a club. Feeling your face heat, you looked away, embarrassment coating your skin.

Your stomach lurched, turning with nausea and something else, your skin pricking with sweat as you glanced back up at Joel, meeting his already waiting eyes. Those chocolate brown orbs were blown, wide, and ghosting with surprise as he raked them over the expanse of you.

His face glowed in the low light of the club, the flashing lights dancing and snagging your gaze to his lustful expression. The way that his eyes were heavy-lidded, the slight sheen that coated his brow, and the way that his chest rose and fell excessively.

It was a scene that you couldn’t look away from, even though you wanted to. You wanted to get out of there and go... well, you didn’t exactly know. The longer that Joel’s eyes held yours, the more you felt yourself being drawn into his orbit, his world. Your chest began rising and falling in time with his own, and a dull throbbing began in your cunt, surprising you completely.

You didn’t think that you’d be this kind of person, someone who was turned on by watching other people having sex. But you also couldn’t deny or explain the influx of wetness that saturated your panties.

You awkwardly clenched your thighs, rubbing them together to ease some of the pressure you felt. Joel’s stare burned into you, causing your heartbeat to thrum erratically in your throat.

You felt sick and depraved and like you should be anywhere else in the world, but another part of yourself couldn’t look away, because you didn’t want to.

You wanted to see Joel fall apart right in front of you, to see him burst at the seams and devolve into a fit of pleasure right before your eyes. And like you had wished it into existence, you watched as he tipped his head back, snapping his eyes closed, his whole body convulsing as he came. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a beautiful sight to behold.

Another gush of your own arousal leaked out of you, sticking the thin material of your panties flush against your cunt, rubbing against your already swollen clit. Fuck, you felt too hot and you needed to cool down, maybe splash some water on your face.

Ducking out of Joel’s line of sight, you headed past the winding staircase, down a rather dark hallway, and toward a couple of heavy-set doors that housed the bathrooms. There weren’t many people around, only a few bodies scattered throughout the hall.

Couples made out in the dark and you may or may not have seen a drug deal going down. But none of that mattered now, the only thing you needed to do was close yourself into a stall and try to get your hormones under control.

Even though the thud of the music carried all the way down the hall, you could still hear a rhythmic thump of someone stomping in your direction. You turned on your heels, anxious to see who it was. Before you could even blink, strong arms shoved you past one of the steel doors, locking it behind you, before planting you against it on the other side.

Your eyes trailed their broad and expansive chest, cresting at their salt and pepper beard and mustache, and settling on their sinful eyes. Eyes you had just been staring into moments before. It was Joel. Shock and something lustful coasted through you, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine.

Joel’s face was inches from yours, his breathing mingling with your own, the heady scent of beer invaded your nostrils. His eyes dipped to your lips and then lazily dragged back to your eyes. His hands were resting on your hips, keeping you between the door and his body, caging you in.

“What’re you doing?”, you asked, swallowing thickly, trying to avoid his eyes.

“What’s it look like ‘m doing?”, he replied, his Southern drawl coming out as thick as honey, making your thighs snap together.

You shook your head gingerly, “Dunno...”.

His lips quirked up, a sinister smirk plastered on his face, “Turn around”. His voice was gruff and assertive, making you quiver at the tone.

You were stunned into silence, your mouth opening and closing like you were trying to catch flies, surprised by his forwardness.

“What—”, you started.

You couldn’t even catch your breath before Joel’s rough grip grabbed your arms, turning you around in his hold and pressing your front against the edge of the sink, basically bending you in half so that your ass was facing him, on full display.

“This fuckin’ dress”, he mumbled behind you, fisting the material and tugging it up, bunching it around your waist, leaving your ass bare save for your drenched thong. “Wanted to fucking rip it off of ya”.

You whined, pushing your ass toward him, your body completely under his spell, his raspy voice suddenly fulfilling every dirty fantasy you’d ever had about this man. It wasn’t as if he was unattractive by any stretch of the word, he was ruggedly attractive even.

Your mind couldn’t concentrate on your thoughts of how attractive Joel was before a stinging slap came down on your bare ass cheek. You craned your neck, as best you could, but you felt another quick sting, forcing you to remain in the position you were in.

“Fuck—”, you half-whined, half-mewled, both turned on and pissed off at the same time. “You can’t just—”.

Another slap, harder this time, causing your body to jolt and instinctively wiggle away from the pain.

“I can—”, Joel groaned, another full-palm slap on your ass, probably leaving a large, red imprint there. “And I will”.

Joel’s other hand was pressing down on your back, pushing your face further and further toward the porcelain sink that wasn’t as white as it probably had been once upon a time. It made your stomach revolt against you, the combination of cigarette ash and week-old vomit was not the most pleasant scent.

You felt Joel’s hand slip away from your ass, his fingers trailing over the back of your exposed legs, moving lower and lower. You attempted to look behind you again, his body not crowding you anymore.

When you did manage to sneak a peek, he was lowering himself onto his knees, spreading your legs farther apart by the back of your knees.

Your eyes went wide, “What- what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”.

Joel rolled his eyes, nipping at your sore ass cheek, causing you to jump. “So many goddamn questions”.

You muttered something incoherent, a protest of some sort, but Joel wouldn’t hear it, only ignoring you and continuing on his mission. He pulled your deep red thong to the side, the chilled air in the bathroom hitting your exposed clit deliciously.

“Mm, my favourite colour”, he groaned.

You shook like a leaf as you awaited what came next, feeling Joel’s harsh breath closing in on your pussy, the anticipation actually killing you. It was like a shock to your system, the feel of his warm mouth suctioning to your lips, sucking and licking like he had been deprived all this time.

Your hips pressed back into him, involuntarily chasing the sensation, the friction, the high. The brash feel of Joel’s beard tickled you, circling your entrance like a shark would its dinner. He licked along your folds, fucking his girthy tongue into your hole as he spread your cheeks further apart, stretching you painfully with the size of it.

You were a moaning mess, hands strangling the edge of the sink, as you held on for dear life. Searing pleasure gripped your lower stomach, throttling your insides as Joel picked up his pace, helping you to your orgasm.

It came over you suddenly and violently, making you shake as you clenched your eyes shut, rocking back into him as light burst behind your eyes, making your body sweat and tingle with the aftershocks.

You felt Joel move to stand, palming the flesh of your ass cheeks with both his hands as you took this opportunity to catch your breath. Your chest heaved as you lay virtually flat against the sink, your breasts squishing down painfully.

Lightheaded and completely fucked out, you hadn’t even been aware that Joel’s hands were on you again, manhandling you so that you were turned around, facing him. He roughly gripped the hem of your dress, yanking the material down, your breasts popping out of their constraints.

“D’you like what you saw earlier?”, Joel asked, his voice dropping an octave, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. “Hmm? Was that sweet lil’ pussy weeping for me while I was getting blown?”.

Your mind was clouded, a fog settling over each neuron, slowing down your capacity to think and speak, let alone to respond to him. You nodded your head, moaning in his ear, rubbing your jaw along his own, scraping your skin over his patchy beard.

“Fuck”, he groaned, rutting his hardened bulge into your thigh, creating succulent friction for himself while you leaned back, taking it. “I almost blew my load when I saw that you were watching me, gettin’ off on seeing that”.

You dropped your head to his shoulder, your mind still stuck in that post-orgasm haze.

Joel gripped your chin in his fingers, tipping your head up so that your eyes were locked with his, “Eyes on me, darlin’. I ain’t finished with you yet”.

You nodded again, your breathing coming out rushed as you gulped down heaps of air, filling your lungs, eyes locked on Joel’s. Your lids were heavy, vision clouded as Joel leaned forward, lips grazing yours.

His teeth came down on your bottom lip, suddenly, making you yelp. The pressure was light, not as hard as you were expecting, not as hard as a part of you wanted. Joel groaned, his hands roaming all over you. Your hips, your stomach, your ass.

Your hands raked up and down Joel’s chest, steadying yourself with the feeling of the coarse material underneath your palms. Your gaze flicked down to his buttoned-up shirt, to the three buttons that were undone, the dense hair on his chest, stippled with grey and white.

He hummed, his chest rumbling below your fingers as you dipped them under his shirt, weaving through the loose curls, exploring the feel of him. His chest was solid, firm, strong, dependable. A strange wave of calm washed over you, igniting your confidence.

“No...”, you breathed, your chest heaving, pulling one raspy breath after another from your lungs, “I’m not finished with you yet”.

Joel’s eyes widened, his mouth parted, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his already glistening lips. A smirk tugged at the edge, his index finger slipping past your bottom lip. You opened wider, allowing his digit to slip into your mouth, the heedy taste of sweat and something sweeter settled on your tongue, your taste buds exploding with the tang of him.

“Is that so?”, Joel cooed, his voice dripping, oozing with unbridled desire.

He pushed his digit deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat roughly. The intrusion was sudden, making your eyes snap shut as you tried your best to keep it together, to not give Joel the reaction he was looking for. But you gagged, all the same, drool pooling and dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

You heard Joel click his teeth, a disappointed tsk coming from deep in his chest as he tried again, this time gripping your chin with his other hand, making sure you opened wide for him.

“Come on, you can do better than that...”, he mused, his middle finger accompanying his index, sliding them deeper and deeper down your throat, until you couldn’t do anything but take it, the will to fight against the shock to your system fading quickly. “Show Daddy how much you want to suck his cock”.

Your pussy began to thrum rapidly, your slick running down your inner thighs, making them sticky, making you even more of a mess than you already felt. You moaned around Joel’s fingers, sucking and bobbing your head along them as best as you could.

His hand dropped from your chin to rub at your peaked and sensitive nipples, playing with them, distracting you from what you were doing. It was maddening, the sensation, the tweaking, the way he chuckled under his breath when you stuttered around him, groaning every time you took him deeper.

He pinched your right nipple harder, twisting it, “Keep going, baby”.

That was all the reminder that you needed. You shifted your focus back, inhaling through your nose deeply, taking his fingers down more, more, more. Tears bubbled along your waterline, making your vision of Joel blurry, and unfocused.

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a thin line of your saliva still attaching you to him. Your attention was focused on the strand until it broke, your gaze sliding up Joel’s face, past his greying and patchy beard, his full, plump lips, and settling on his burning eyes.

“Are you ready for Daddy’s cock now? Hm?”, he asked, in an almost mocking tone.

You nodded, still a little dazed, still a little flustered. He grabbed your chin forcefully, his grip tight as he angled your head up, your eyes downcast as you kept them locked with his.

“Tell me you want it, darlin’”, Joel’s face was inches from yours, his lips so close that you could push up on your toes and kiss him, feel them against you, but you didn’t, not yet. “Tell me you need it”.

“I-I need it...”, you said, low. Joel’s brow raised, urging you to continue, “Daddy...”, you whined, your hips grinding into his thigh absentmindedly.

Joel nodded, his pupils blown out, gleaming with lust and dark intent. You watched as his hands dragged across his stomach, sliding down farther and farther, resting above his belt.

“Can I...”, you trailed off, preoccupied by his massive bulge, the way that it twitched in his jeans, practically punching a hole through them.

Joel smirked, “Yeah, go ahead, baby”. His breathing was stunted, coming out in shallow pants as he anticipated you finally touching him.

You reached out, hands dangling loosely on his hips, thumb rubbing along his zipper. You heard Joel’s breathing hitch above you, and you smirked. So, he was just as affected as you were... interesting.

Holding in a breath, you tentatively searched his eyes a last time, he nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving you. You sank to your knees, Joel’s hand darting out to grab your arm, stabilizing you as you lowered yourself fully.

You looked up at him through your full lashes, trapping him with your stare as you undid his jeans, slowly, with purpose. Your heart hammered in your chest, your mouth already filled with saliva as you awaited what you anticipated to be a huge cock.

You couldn’t believe that you were on your knees, wrestling with Joel’s belt as he stood over you, towering over you, when just the other day he was helping your Dad change the oil in your car.

Your Dad hadn’t been any the wiser to the way you had been ogling his neighbour and best friend the entire time. How you traced every bead of sweat that presented on his brow, how you watched intensely as his back muscles contracted under his plain black t-shirt every time he bent over the hood of the car, making you bite your lip as you imagined all the ways he could bend you over that hood and rail you into oblivion.

You had focused on his dirty fingers, how meticulous and deft they were as they tinkled with the fine parts inside of your car, how filthy they were, covered in inky black smears. You felt like you were in heat, completely turned on by normal, everyday things, something as simple as a man— who again, was old enough to be your Dad, helping your actual father tune up your car.

Pulling Joel’s zipper down, his black briefs hugged the shape of his cock, the fleecy material moulding his straining member beautifully. Your mouth watered at the sight, the size of him, the way that he smelled, even before you pulled him out of his underwear.

You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to taste him then, immediately. Your core fluttered as you inched forward, hands wrapping around his thick, sturdy thighs, your nose burying deep into his hardened flesh, inhaling his intoxicating scent. And it was intoxicating.

Your head was already swimming, your lips rubbing up and down his shaft, tongue licking his clothed cock. His musky soap took over your senses, the way his heavy scent settled over you, drawing you in deep, your tongue basically lapping at him now. Greedily, hungrily, shamelessly.

Joel’s hands dropped down to your hair, tangling in it. His hold was painful, bordering on brutal. You couldn’t handle it anymore, being so close and yet not close enough.

Your hands fumbled with the waistband of his underwear, dragging his pulsating cock out of them, feeling the weight of him in your hand. How warm and supple he was, how heavy and manly it was.

Wrapping your hand over him, feeling flesh on flesh, skin on skin, warmth flooded your core, arousal seeping from you again. Joel sharply inhaled a breath through his teeth, wincing when you took hold of him.

You looked up at him through lashed eyes, “What’s wrong?”.

Joel shook his head, “Cold”.

You snickered, rubbing your thumb over his slit, making his fists in your hair tighten significantly. In the low light, you could see a glob of something shimmering on his shaft, calling out to you. You took a closer look, realizing that it was lip gloss. Her lip gloss.

Your gut simmered and boiled as you inspected it, collecting it on your finger and wiping it off on his jeans, practically snarling as you did.

“She meant nothing, baby”, Joel said, his voice devolving into a groan when you slowly started stroking him.

You hummed, not completely satisfied with his answer but deciding to let it go for now. He wasn’t yours and you had no say over what or who he did. You tugged harder, angrier, even though you knew it was irrational to get upset over this.

“I can do it better”, you said, catching yourself off guard with your own words. Joel angled your head up, making you look at him.

“Show me then”, he mumbled, his eyes glazing over with desire as he watched you intently.

You sank down lower, face now level with his cock, fingers brushing against the wiry, short hair at the base. You inhaled deeply, inhaled the scent of him— sharp, masculine, heedy.

He was all man and he was all yours for the moment; his lips parted slightly, his eyes hooded as he looked down at you, his tongue darting out to run along his parched lips, watching you like a hawk, cementing to memory the image of you on your knees for him, his best friend’s little girl hungry for his cock, ready to gag on it and swallow down every bit of his seed until she was choking on it.

Joel’s cock pulsed under your touch, twitching with anticipation. Your lips quirked up at the edge, satisfied with his reaction to you, even though you hadn’t even started yet.

You leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on his tip, Joel’s hand flying to your hair, steadying himself as your tongue popped out, running along the underside of his shaft, the feeling so fucking delicious that he would have burst if he hadn’t tugged you away from his cock faster than you could suck him into your mouth.

“Stop... fucking teasing me...”, Joel breathed out, through clenched teeth, the pain in his voice making you giggle.

“Okay”, you conceded, rolling your eyes like the fucking brat that you were.

Joel loosed his grip on your hair significantly, and you pushed on, suckling at his tip, your tongue gliding over the head over and over again, effectively driving him insane— if his noises were any indication of that.

You took a deep breath through your nose and took more of him, hallowing out your cheeks, covering your teeth with your lips. Spit painted his cock, the smell mixing with the overwhelming scent that was already present in the bathroom.

You bobbed up and down on Joel’s cock, spurred on by the moans and broken grunts that were coming from him, your name and only your name spilling from his lips.

“God, you love this cock”, Joel mumbled, loud enough for you to hear, your pussy beginning to throb again. “Don’t ya?”.

You attempted to nod, opening your throat more for him to slide his length farther down.

“My little cock slut, huh?”, Joel grunted, his other hand joining the one that was already tangled in your hair, grabbing your head and shoving himself deeper down your throat.

You lost your rhythm, sputtering around him when you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe, but Joel wasn’t having any of it. He yanked hard, tipping your head up, your eyes glazed with tears.

“What did I say? Eyes on me”, he growled, taking over— taking charge of the situation. You gripped his thighs, holding on for dear life, as he used your mouth to get off, not caring in the slightest that you were running out of air.

Joel’s hips snapped violently as he pushed himself down your throat, groaning at the feel of it hugging his cock, squeezing it like he was fucking your pussy, fluttering every time you swallowed around him.

He grunted loudly, his tempo becoming stuttered, “What would your Daddy say? Hm? What would he say if saw you right now, your mouth stuffed full of my cock, makeup running down your cheeks?”.

You moaned around him, eliciting a pained groan from Joel, “Fuck, yeah, ‘s it... you’re doing so well for me”.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your eyes stinging as you blinked them away, swallowing around Joel’s cock periodically, trying to get him to cum.

He was close, you could feel it in the way that he was tensing up, his pace unsteady and rushed, head thrown back as he let the feeling wash over him. It was a sight to behold, your arousal leaking from you as you watched him.

A loud bang came from the other side of the bathroom door, some muffled shouting. Joel’s head snapped up at the intrusion, his thrusts becoming angrier each time he pulled out of you, only to shove back in harder.

The banging came again but this time Joel didn’t take his eyes off of you, didn’t want to miss how you reacted when he came down your throat.

“Want you to swallow it, darlin’. Don’t want you wasting a single drop”.

You hummed again, a hand reaching for his balls, massaging them in time with his thrusts. A loud grunt was all the warning that you got before Joel spilled his load down your throat, his seed hot as it pooled in your mouth, the taste salty and overwhelming to your senses.

You swallowed as much of him as you could, delighting in how he shuddered above you as he milked himself into your waiting and open mouth. He stepped back from you, tucking himself back into his jeans, running a hand through his sweat-slick curls.

A drop of his cum ran down your chin and you didn’t waste a second before you thumbed it, sticking the finger into your mouth and sucking it clean, a lewd pop emitting in the echoing bathroom when you were finished.

With a hand on the porcelain sink, you got to your feet, adjusting your dress and fixing your hair and makeup in the dirty mirror. You shrugged, not caring how you really looked, the club was dark enough that no one would be the wiser to what had just occurred. You hoped.

You turned to Joel who still had that look in his eye as he stared at you.

“What?”, you asked.

He shook his head, “Nothin’”. Another bang on the door, Joel’s head turned to the noise, his features darkening, “I’m going to knock their fuckin’ head off if they knock one more time”.

You walked to the door, patting Joel’s chest as you passed him, pulling it open. You stopped before you were all the way through, looking back at Joel.

You cleared your throat, your voice coming out raspier than usual, “See you around, Mr. Miller”.

You could have sworn that you saw a touch of a smile ghost his face, but you couldn’t be sure. You left the way you came, traversing the dark hallway and meeting up with your friend who was more than a little drunk.

You joined the group of them, dancing and grinding for hours. Maybe your night out wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought. You unconsciously scanned the dance floor— the club for the brooding neighbour you had a quickie with in the bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found.

You shrugged, only mildly disappointed that you were dancing with horny boys rather than the man who had made you see stars over and over again. But you smiled to yourself because you’d see him again, that was a guarantee, and maybe, just maybe he would need to help your Dad fix your car.

taglist: @morallyinept @reddedmiller @hellishjoel @jenispunk @cavillscurls @kiwisbell @joelslegalwhre

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ghostarii · 9 months

Text

GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr blade smut #hsr ren

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edenesth · 3 months

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The Way to His Heart [11]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Trigger Warnings: gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 10 | Fic Masterlist | Part 12

Hearing the cessation of all the screams, one of the royal guards gathered the courage to enter the chamber and check on Seonghwa, "Sir, are you done?"

Upon entering, he had yet to witness the state in which the former minister was left. The general stood before his victim, actively wiping all the blood off his hands with a towel prepared beforehand, "It's done. Has my assistant arrived to pick me up?"

"Yes, sir. Assistant Choi is waiting with your carriage by the entrance. If I remember correctly, he mentioned Lady Park helped prepare dinner today." A smile instantly graced your husband's face at the mere mention of you.

"Thank you, soldier. Bring in the rest and clean up the mess," He instructed, finally stepping away from the seat in the middle of the room, revealing the sight of your father slumped in the chair, both of his arms missing, blood gushing out from his shoulders, "Get him to a physician before banishing him. No need to treat him extensively; heal him just enough to keep him alive."

Freezing, the guard nodded quickly, "Y-yes, sir! We will not let you down!" His round eyes fixated on the two mutilated limbs on the ground in the middle of the puddle of crimson liquid.

The general was truly not someone to be underestimated, that was evident to the royal guards who filed in later on to clean up the bloody mess. They now understood why Seonghwa was so feared among those who had worked with him or witnessed his cold-blooded nature firsthand.

However, rather than instilling pure terror, your husband garnered more respect from them. He had gone to great lengths just to avenge his beloved wife. This demonstrated that the man still possessed a heart after all and that his affection for Lady Park was undeniable. He has proven that he could love just as fiercely as he hated.

Not a single member of the palace staff harboured even a hint of pity for the former Minister of Military Affairs as they dealt with his mangled body according to instructions. Any citizen with access to news was aware of all the cruel acts the old man had committed against his own daughter and first wife. It was safe to say that witnessing him in this state brought ample satisfaction not only to the general but to others as well.

"Sir, there's a bit of blood here."

The assistant extended his handkerchief, ensuring his master was free from any signs of bloodshed as they returned home. The last thing they all needed was for you to catch on to any of the events that occurred today; you should only focus on happiness and never spare another thought for your so-called family from now onwards.

"Thank you, Jongho," The general responded, taking the piece of fabric to remove the small bloodstain on his neck, "Keep me posted on where they banished that clown afterwards. It would be nice to check in on him once in a while, for entertainment purposes."

"Yes, sir."

Upon entering the estate, he was surprised not to find you waiting for him by the entrance, as was your usual routine when he returned from work. Only the head maid and a few servants stood there, ready to greet him, "Welcome home, master. We hope you had a good day at work." They said with a deep bow.

Seonghwa frowned, "Where's the mistress?" The elderly woman replied, "Mistress is currently at the main hall having a chat with Royal Secretary Choi while they were awaiting your return."

That immediately had the general rushing towards the hall. He didn't like the thought of you alone with... yet another handsome man. He had finally grown accustomed to having Yunho around the estate whenever he was at work, only because the two of you rarely interacted; he knew that thanks to daily reports from Eunsook. Now, jealousy was flooding his veins again.

What if you found San more attractive?

"Yes, I fully understand your concern. My sister faces similar issues," The royal secretary's voice carried from outside the hall, and then your softer response followed, "Thank you so much for your help, San. It means a lot to me."

They're already on a first-name basis?

"Help? With what?" He queried, abruptly pulling you and the secretary from your conversation. Both of you looked up at him, and you blinked and stammered nervously, quickly rising from your seat, "Oh, Seonghwa! You're home! It's nothing, we were just having a casual conversation while waiting for you."

Sensing your unease, San chuckled and concurred, "Yes, it was nothing important. It's good that you're back; I've come to deliver the minutes of today's assembly to you, as per His Majesty's orders."

"Please don't let me interrupt; I'll be waiting for you at the dining hall," You remarked to your husband, offering a nod of gratitude to the secretary, "It was nice talking to you, Royal Secretary Choi," The man respectfully bowed his head, "And you, Lady Park."

The general watched the interaction between you two with unmistakable envy, causing San to suppress a snicker into his fist, "Without further ado, general, let's proceed so that you can join your wife for dinner as soon as possible," Seonghwa nodded, feigning nonchalance, "Of course."

As the secretary continued to share the main details discussed during the assembly, he noticed the general's slight distraction. Wrapping up the debrief, he decided to ease your husband's thoughts by divulging the nature of your earlier conversation.

"Listen, before you came back, Lady Park and I were just talking about her concerns regarding being a better wife. Given that my elder sister, who is married, shares similar worries, I was merely offering some insights that might be helpful. So, don't stress over it too much, okay? I assure you, you're the only one on her mind."

Learning that you were only seeking to improve yourself for him, Seonghwa's heart melted immediately. Regret washed over him for entertaining the notion that you might find his colleague more appealing, and a slight embarrassment crept in, "I, uhh... it's not like I was worried about that or anything... but thank you, San. If that's all for today, Jongho will escort you out."

The secretary held back his knowing smile as they bid each other farewell before the general made his way to the dining hall. His heart pounded with excitement at the thought of being with you again.

Dinner went by as usual, though this time, you were brimming with enthusiasm as you shared how you spent the day learning to prepare his favourite dishes from the kitchen staff. You even mentioned the surprising discovery that you might have developed a love for cooking. He ate more than usual, savouring the fact that the meal was made just for him, and found it difficult to take his eyes off of you throughout the night.

He had once considered happiness to be a frivolous notion, something only fools wished for. He never anticipated being the one to experience it. Now that he had, your husband was determined not to lose this newfound feeling.

With your family matters now resolved, the only thing remaining was to give you the grand wedding you truly deserved. From then on, the plan was to enjoy a lifetime of this happiness together. Watching you munching away with joy, he couldn't resist reaching over to affectionately wipe the corner of your lips. At that moment, he realised that this was all he needed.

After the meal, he walked you back to the House of Lotus, hand in hand as usual. Upon reaching the entrance, you smiled up at him, "Have a good night, Seonghwa."

However, before you could turn and leave, he swiftly cupped your face, "Wait, before you go..." Your heart quickened as he leaned in, whispering, "Just one kiss, my love."

Almost instinctively, your eyes fluttered closed as soon as his lips met yours in a tender kiss. The warmth spread through your insides as he wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss by angling his head.

Feeling the sensation of his lips pressing against yours, again and again, you finally understood why couples enjoyed kissing. It was hard to put into words, but being so close to him felt pleasant, and your husband had a unique way of making you feel beautiful with his touches, even when you doubted it yourself. There was an almost addictive quality to it, making you feel like the luckiest woman in the world to be desired by the great General Park.

Perhaps I've found it... my happiness.

After breaking the kiss for a breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at you lovingly. In silence, the two of you remained in each other's arms, basking in the moment, reluctant to part.

Unfortunately, the moment was cut short as your assigned group of servants approached, "Oh, pardon us for the intrusion, master and mistress! We came to assist in preparing the mistress for bed. May we proceed, master? Or, if you wish to stay with the mistress, we could also make arrangements for both of you for the night in the House of Lotus."

His heart raced as he witnessed the faint blush on your cheeks in response to the maid's suggestion. Chuckling, he gently shook his head and placed a kiss on your forehead, "No, the mistress needs her rest. Perhaps another time. Go on ahead then; she will join you soon."

"Yes, master, as you wish."

The servants entered your quarters to prepare your bath while you exchanged your goodnight. Caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, he couldn't resist leaning in for a final, lingering kiss on your soft lips, "Goodnight, my love. I'll see you tomorrow."

As you made your way to your room, he felt a swell of affection watching you turn for one last wave before disappearing inside. He missed you already, and as much as he would have loved to hold you close all night, he knew that waiting until your proper wedding night to share the same bed was the right decision. For now, this was more than enough. After all, he had the rest of his life to spend with you.

"Thank goodness the ointment has been remarkably effective. I don't think you need to harbour any insecurities about your appearance anymore. Lady Park, you look beautiful." said Physician Jung as he arrived to assess the condition of your skin. Having you apply the medicine he prepared for some time, he recognised that his work here would soon be done.

Eunsook couldn't contain the grin on her face at the slight pink dusting your cheeks from the doctor's compliment, suddenly relieved that her master was not around. Lord knows how unamused he would have been to hear any of that or see your reaction.

"Yes, thank you, Yunho. She's always been ravishing with or without your ointment. I think your job here is done; it's my turn to enhance this beauty. Head over to the general's study for your pay if that's all," The doctor couldn't resist rolling his eyes at the dressmaker's dramatic entrance, "It's nice to see you too, Hongjoong."

With a dismissive wave, he shrugged off the sarcastic greeting from his tall friend, saying, "I'll catch up with you soon; I have work to do." Left with no other choice, Yunho offered one final bow to you before leaving your room with a maid escorting him out.

Closing the distance between you, the dressmaker swiftly retrieved the new hanbok he had made specifically for the special occasion today, declaring, "Now, who is ready to outshine all the princesses in the palace? It's you, Lady Park!"

"Outshine the princesses? I d-don't think that's a good idea—"

He interrupted you before you could finish your protest, "Nonsense! I promised General Park to make you the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon." With a small giggle, you sighed in defeat and allowed him to work his magic with the assistance of the head maid as they coordinated your appearance for your visit to the palace.

Today marked the day you and Seonghwa were meeting the King and Queen to discuss the details of your wedding ceremony in-depth, as well as allowing the royal couple to finally meet you after having heard so much about you. Even without having seen you, they already adored you from the stories your husband had shared. Not to mention, their hearts ached, especially after learning about your nightmarish childhood.

Seated at the vanity table, you gazed at your reflection in amazement as Eunsook worked on your hair and makeup, with Hongjoong providing expert advice and guidance. Just as the elderly woman was about to conceal the remaining faint scars on your face as she had always done, the dressmaker intervened, "No, wait. Leave the one on her forehead as it is; I have an idea."

With his extensive knowledge of fashion and beauty, he had always been intrigued by the Chinese makeup style, which incorporated temporary tattoos. Specifically, he was drawn to the idea of a small flower design painted onto women's foreheads.

Rather than covering your marks, he opted to transform them into an accessory that would improve your overall looks. With this distinctive look, you were bound to capture attention from all directions, not that your beauty didn't already achieve that. Now, you would stand out wherever you went, even within the palace grounds where princesses and royal concubines were always impeccably dressed.

Waiting by the entrance, Seonghwa turned when he recognised the sound of your dainty footsteps approaching. He didn't miss his assistant's awestruck expression, taking in your appearance from behind him, "Finally, Hongjoong's taken way too long..."

As you stepped into full view, his words trailed off, and his gaze fixed on you with a mix of astonishment and sheer admiration. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words to express what he felt. You had always been beautiful in his eyes, but his friend had truly outdone himself this time.

The most significant difference that caught the general's attention was the little red flower on your forehead, right between your eyes. That delicate design elegantly covered one of the scars you bore from your past. It was a stroke of genius from the dressmaker, turning a mark of pain into a unique and striking accessory that enhanced your natural beauty.

Your husband approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. Finally finding his voice, he whispered, "You look breathtaking, my love," before gently reaching up to trace the edge of the flower on your forehead, his touch soft and filled with so much love, "Hongjoong, you've done wonders."

The dressmaker grinned proudly and nodded in agreement, "I know, I always do."

Throughout the journey to the palace, the general found it hard to divert his gaze from you, just as you were captivated by the passing scenery outside. The roads to the palace differed from the usual routes leading to town, explaining your intrigue. As he admired your beautiful face, an unexpected desire surged within him to take you back home and shield you from others' eyes. A sudden uncertainty about wanting anyone else to see you overcame him. A selfish impulse urged him to keep you all to himself.

Before he could entertain the impulsive idea of turning the carriage around, Jongho had already announced their arrival. This time, Eunsook didn't bother to stand by and assist you down, instead waiting expectantly as the general smoothly helped you in one swift movement, determined to keep you close.

Having been here more than enough, Seonghwa knew this place might appear beautiful on the inside but could be very dangerous at the same time. People here might seem nice but rarely could be trusted, particularly the women. Well aware of this, he hesitated to let you wander off alone, despite your status as his wife. You were easily recognisable as Lady Park from a distance, anyone would have to be insane to dare mess with you.

Even so, he had no intention of leaving your side for even a moment. Palace servants passing by bowed deeply at both of you, and you did your best to maintain the poise of a noblewoman as practised with the head maid. The last thing you wanted was to make your husband look bad in here.

As you both approached the hall for the meeting with His and Her Majesty, the royal secretary rushed out to intercept the two of you. Almost as if your husband had jinxed it, San exclaimed, "There you are, General Park! We have a bit of a situation right now. Your immediate presence is required at an emergency meeting."

"But my wife—"

Finally realising you were present, the secretary bowed, "Oh, right, Lady Park! We're all aware you're here to discuss your wedding arrangements, but this really cannot wait. Even His Majesty is currently in this meeting expecting you. Would it be alright if we have your wife waiting by the cherry blossom garden? We'll have the servants prepare her some refreshments."

As much as Seonghwa detested the sudden change of plans, he acknowledged that he was left with no choice upon sensing the urgency in San's demeanour. With a nod of defeat, he agreed, "Okay, fine. Eunsook, please stay by the mistress' side at all times."

She nodded with a bow, "Of course, master."

Turning to you with a regretful frown etched on his brows, he said, "I'm sorry for having to leave you alone, my love. I'll come back to you as quickly as I can, I promise."

You shook your head with an understanding smile, "Don't worry about me, Seonghwa. I'll be fine. Your work is more important. Now hurry and go. Don't make His Majesty wait." Sighing lightly, he pecked you on the head before rushing off with the royal secretary.

"Lady Park, please come with us. We will guide you to the cherry blossom garden."

A team of palace maids appeared before you, showing you as much respect as they would towards royalty. Your status and reputation were well-known nationwide; you were favoured not only by your husband but also by the King and Queen themselves. No one would dare to disrespect you for fear of dire consequences.

Their dedication was evident in the top-tier hospitality as they led you to the enchanting garden, unlike anything you had ever seen. After thanking them politely, they prepared a seat for you in one of the pavilions within the vast garden, serving a tray of tea and some sophisticated-looking snacks.

Boredom eventually set in, and you glanced at one of the palace maids standing ready by the pavilion for any orders you might have for her, "Excuse me, would it be okay for me to take a walk around the garden?"

"Oh, certainly, Lady Park! Feel free to explore the garden as you please. Would you like any of us to accompany you?" Smiling and glancing at Eunsook, you declined, "No, thank you. We'll manage on our own. We won't be gone too long; you have my word."

"Thank you, Lady Park. Your assurance is appreciated; we'll await your return here." They bowed deeply as you and the head maid began your leisurely stroll.

As you wandered through the picturesque garden, marvelling at the vibrant colours of the flowers, you inadvertently caught the eye of a stranger who happened to be nearby. Your beauty, accentuated by the mark on your forehead, captivated the attention of this mysterious figure. What intrigued him even more was the unmistakable childlike innocence reflected in your eyes.

From a distance, he observed you with awe. The way you carried yourself, the genuine delight on your face as you admired the flowers and scenery—it all conveyed a sense of authenticity. Unlike anyone he had encountered, you seemed untouched by pretentiousness or spoiled airs.

Driven by an unexplainable urge to get closer, the stranger slowly made his way towards you, navigating through the enchanting garden. His curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't resist the desire to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention.

Unaware of the approaching figure as you immersed yourself in the beauty of the flowers, a clearing of the throat behind you signalled his presence. Eunsook, recognising the newcomer, widened her eyes and began to bow, but he gestured for her to remain silent with a finger against his lips and a subtle shake of his head.

Interrupting the tranquillity, the unexpected deep voice spoke, "It's beautiful, isn't it? Do you know what cherry blossoms symbolise?"

Startled, you turned to find a handsome man dressed elegantly, smiling down at you. After a moment of surprise, you nodded, "I do. I've read that they symbolise purity and beauty."

The man acknowledged, "That's right, much like you, my lady."

Concern flickered in the head maid's eyes, realising that the stranger might be unaware of your identity and possibly attempting to make a romantic gesture. Before matters could escalate, she decided to intervene, "Allow me to express our deepest respect, Your Highness. This is Lady Park, the esteemed wife of General Park. Mistress, may I present to you Prince Yeosang."

« Preview of Part 12 »

Seonghwa's eyes widened as they approached the War and Strategy Department building, where soldiers were marching about hastily, "Wait a minute, don't tell me—"

The royal secretary had no time to explain as he pulled the general into the meeting room where all military officials were seated and awaiting anxiously. The King, positioned in the middle of the room, sighed deeply upon noticing your husband's arrival.

"You're here, General Park. Is your wife also in the palace?" His Majesty asked, rubbing his head to alleviate an oncoming headache.

Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and inquired, "Yes, she is. She's waiting by the cherry blossom garden as we speak. Now, tell me. What is it? What has happened?"

With regret in his eyes, the King grimaced, "I'm so sorry, my boy. It seems your wedding will have to wait. Relations with the neighbouring nation, Ruhon, have not been very good lately. I fear war is inevitable this time, and... we need you."

Just wanted to make it clear that Ruhon is a fictional country. I've thought about it and decided it's probably best not to use real places for fear of offending anyone.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/6): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @kamabokogonpachro @wh0re4yunho

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

644 notes · View notes

jenscx · 21 days

Text

HAPPINESS — yu jimin x f!reader

jimin made you feel like life was worth living for.

TAGS — situationship, strangers to lovers, ive member!yn, jealousy, angst, fluff, birthday fic for jimin

WORDCOUNT — 3.8k

it hadn’t been long since you and karina met. by luck, she was attending a fashion show and had gravitated to you during the after-party. it was an unforgettable experience; one of the most gorgeous idols constantly hovering around you, eyes lingering on the silky black, backless dress you adorned, fingers dancing across your arms… needless to say, you had immediately asked for her contact information, only to receive a cryptic smile in return.

“why not just,” she whispered, “come back to my place instead?”

you had instantly declined, “i’m sorry, i don’t do that. and don’t you live with your members anyway?” karina merely shrugged, eyes twinkling with a gleam you couldn’t name.

“then shouldn’t we go back to yours?”

exasperated, you shake your head, “i just said, i don’t do that. i was interested before, and you are jaw-droppingly beautiful, but i’m not intending to go anywhere tonight, karina.”

the girl hesitated for a few seconds. you raised an eyebrow. she grins, “call me jimin.”

it had only been a month since that interaction. since then, your relationship has progressed. from strangers to friends and now tethering on the edge of a relationship. or as your member yujin had described, a ‘situationship’. it was so easy to open up to jimin, her sweet talk, midnight chats and relentless insistence to annoy you had captured your attention. she was so stupidly cute.

you had fallen.

and jimin seemed to have as well.

no one would stay up till midnight talking to a situationship unless they really liked them, right?

and even though jimin had a schedule the next day, you and her were still in a heated discussion about which ice cream flavour was the superior one (it was always vanilla).

the alarm on your phone rang. in bright words read, ‘milan fashion show.’ you smile to yourself. it was another chance to see jimin after her hectic schedule. you barely had time to see her during her break, and now your schedules finally matched up. you couldn’t wait to see her.

jiminie [7.41am]:

hihihi good morning

i’ll see u ltr :))

ynie [8.20am]:

morning!

can’t wait.

you turn your phone off with a bright grin, barely keeping your excitement under wraps. your flight was at 10 and by the time you reached milan, it would be around 11 in the evening. it was going to be a long flight, but the thought of seeing jimin again made your stomach tighten up. was this what people in relationships feel? it was so bizarre that the simple thought of someone could so easily make you feel breathless.

unable to contain your exhilaration, you get some weird stares from your manager and assistants. meekly apologising, you close your eyes as they drive to the airport, dreaming of a certain main dancer.

you blink. how did you get here?

jimin, was just standing a few feet away from you, but she had barely spared you a glance the whole day. she didn’t even greet you or anything. even after the crew had asked for you two to stand together, jimin was at least a metre away, not daring to stand in your vicinity. you could cry.

especially with the heart eyes every other person was sending her way. you swallow the lump in your throat, staring at the man who stood a little close for comfort next to her. and throughout the show, you could only stare longingly at the back of her head, sighing every once in a while when the two of them would pose. it was devastating.

“you good?” one of the other attendants asked. you think you recognise them from a recent drama you’ve watched.

“yeah,” you mumble, taking a sip of the champagne in your glass. at the corner of your eye, you could see jimin and that man conversing, both sharing giggles and whispers. your grip on the glass tightens. groaning, you look away, trying to hide the hurt on your face from being ignored so obviously. all your attempts at conversation had been shut down and she brushed past all your waves.

you saunter to the corner, taking a seat and pulling out your phone.

yujin [9.27pm]:

how’s it gg

yn [10.14pm]:

it’s like i don’t even exist.

i don’t know what i should do

she keeps talking to some guy

yujin [10.15pm]:

girl gtfo

you agree with yujin. if karina wanted to ignore you, so be it. there was nothing for you to do anyway. after sending a quick message to your manager, you get back up, heading back to the group of actors and idols alike that were engaged in conversation.

coincidentally, karina and her partner for the night had joined as well. it wasn’t difficult to avoid eye contact when she wouldn’t even look in your direction.

“i’ve requested for more champagne,” one of them say, “anybody wants a refill?”

a murmur of chorus emerges.

the waiter stares at your glass expectantly, the bottle in his hand waiting.

“ah… no, i’m leaving soon,” you say awkwardly, handing your glass to another waiter passing by. karina’s head shoots up.

“shame,” they all agree.

“your manager’s picking you up?” karina finally speaks. you longed for her voice, but you’re not very appreciative of it now.

you nod, barely wanting to start a conversation with the girl.

“i’ll walk you out.”

can you really refuse in front of all these people? you already had a reputation of being a bitch. refusing karina’s offer was going to severely damage your image.

you just hold your tongue.

the cold air greets you warmly, unlike karina. you relish in the gusts of wind, waiting patiently outside the gala for your manager’s distinguishable car. karina hums a gentle tune, turning to you.

“how was the show?”

“good,” you reply, curt.

karina doesn’t back down.

“you had fun?” you nod.

“i didn’t get to talk to you at all, it’s sad you’re leaving now.”

you shrug.

“why are you leaving so early?”

“tired.”

“hm, okay.”

you stand in silence while karina fidgets beside you, her hands constantly twirling her hair and eyes darting around. cursing yourself, you take a quick glance at her. the girl’s deep, lush and dark hair flows charmingly in the wind. her eyes draw you in, hypnotising you deeply, full of uncertainty and hesitance for the first time you’ve met her.

“do you have something to say?” you ask. karina huffs, blowing her bangs covering her eyes.

“i do, but it just depends if you’ll listen to me.”

“depends on what you’re asking for,” you reply.

karina smiles, smaller than before, “stay. just for a few more minutes. with me.”

you contemplate. just for a few minutes.

“only until my manager comes.”

she falters, it’s the first time you’ve ever subtly rejected her company, but a practised mask of indifference is put on.

there’s an uncomfortable silence, one that neither of you are willing to acknowledge. you start to regret your decision; you should have just asked her to go back in, instead of waiting out here with you like a fool.

“minjeong’s been talking about this milan cathedral, called duomo di milano, it’s really pretty,” karina looks at you expectantly, “do you have the day off tomorrow for sightseeing?”

you answer slowly, “i do have the day off...”

“where are you staying? i’ll come pick you up.”

“but i don’t want to go, karina,” you complete your sentence. shock passes her face rather quickly.

“uhm, do you want to go somewhere else?”

you shake your head, wanting her to get the hint that you weren’t exactly jumping for the opportunity to hang out.

“we could go shopping at this galleria that aeri mentioned, it has a hotel and everything.”

“no, thanks for offering.”

karina’s tethering on the edge of distress, her face showing visible distraught by now, no longer caring to hide behind a mask of impassiveness. you check your phone again. notifications line your lock screen, most of them coming from yujin.

yujin [10.29pm]:

are u out of there yet

make sure to get back safe

also call me ltr i need to tell u smth

omg jiwon js told me she left seo at home alone

you smile at yujin messages. the leader’s caring nature makes your heart warm and the mention of your other members makes you miss them.

“your manager texting you?” karina asks.

“uh, no,” you reply vaguely, not very keen on talking to her. karina frowns.

“are you sick? do you feel unwell?” she lifts a hand up to touch your neck. the fleeting touch of her fingers already caused goosebumps against your skin.

“i’m fine, karina.”

the mention of her name makes her glare at you, “didn’t i say to call me jimin?”

unable to answer coherently, you settle for silence. karina huffs, seemingly getting irritated.

she opens her mouth once again, but the honk of a car distracts you. the window rolls down and you recognise your manager.

“thanks for uhm, staying here with me,” you bow, “have a good night.” you were upset, but that wouldn’t stop you from being polite.

karina merely watches you leave.

your manager gives you about five minutes of peace and tranquillity before unleashing an onslaught of questions onto you, like “why’d you leave?” or “did someone say something to you?” you answer truthfully to most of his questions.

unable to get a proper response, he just drives back and tells you to not get into any trouble on your day-off.

(“what trouble would i even get into?”

“i’ll actually quit if dispatch posts a photo of you drinking with your friends.”

“that would be impossible since i don’t have any friends.”)

meanwhile, yujin fills you in on the stupid shit your members get up to during your absence. like rei putting aluminium into the microwave and wonyoung just managing to stop her in time.

your phone lights up with notifications throughout the night and you hate the fact that it doesn’t bring you the same excitement like before. the morning after, a chain of messages graces your phone.

jiminie [9.17am]:

are u awake?

jiminie [9.20am]:

when are u gg back to korea?

hello?

ynie [9.31am]:

tmrw

jiminie [9.31am]:

do u feel like gg out tdy?

you turn off your phone, sighing. you would have felt bad for being so distant but the mere thought of karina with that guy yesterday night made you feel unneeded. why was she texting you and asking to hang out with you when she already had someone to go to?

there was no point overthinking about her.

karina would just be another failed situationship. she didn’t mean that much to you (she did). she wasn’t the first thing you thought of once you woke up (she was). and she definitely couldn’t be a good girlfriend for you (she definitely could be).

the hotel doorbell rings. you quirk an eyebrow, not remembering ever ordering room service. maybe your manager knew you wouldn’t be going out for breakfast.

you don’t bother checking the peephole, the hotel you were staying at was very tight on security and only celebrities stayed at this floor. you open the door, stomach grumbling at the thought of food.

“yn.”

oh.

karina stands at your door, a small smile on her face. you feel terribly underdressed compared to her in your bathrobe and messy bed hair.

“good morning,” you greet hoarsely.

“hurry up and get dressed.”

you stop karina from entering your room.

“what are you talking about?”

“we’re going out whether you like it or not. you shouldn’t rot in your room, you should be exploring milan, before you leave, with me.”

do you really have a choice to say no? (yes, you do).

in your heart, you knew in the end, you wouldn’t ever say no to karina.

“okay.”

she grins and you forget why you were even upset in the first place.

karina waits patiently while you finish getting ready. she’s on the balcony admiring the view when you’re done.

“where are we going?” you grab a mask and a cap as karina puts on her shoes again.

“it’s a surprise, and you don’t need those,” karina answers, pointing at the items in your hand. you frown.

“people will recognise me. they’ll see me with you.”

karina shakes her head, “it’s fine, i don’t mind it.”

i mind it though.

you end up leaving them by your bedside table.

“where are we going?” you repeat as karina drags you out of the door. she groans, “stop asking! i already told you it’s a surprise.”

“i need to tell my manager.”

karina pouts, “i’ve already contacted him, just stop worrying about everything.”

her words seem so easy to believe now. to stop worrying about everything.

the streets of milan are filled with cafes and luxury brands. with it being one of the most visited cities, tourists and locals alike roam the area. at every corner, there’s either an art gallery or museum. you must admit that the architecture is simply amazing. quaint bookstores and coffee shops provide a sense of peace away from the bustling metropolitan city. milan was beautiful.

karina pulls you into a cafe, the strong aroma of coffee already filling your senses. there’s a quiet ambience of chatter and the soft footsteps of the waiters walking around. the girl brings you to one of the tables near the window. it gives you a view of a clothing shop adjacent to the cafe, full of customers.

“milan’s called a fashion capital,” karina remarks, “it’s one of europe’s most dynamic cities.” when you don’t reply, karina stands up, awkwardly saying, “i’ll go order our food.”

you nod.

she comes back soon, red in the face and fumbling with her wallet.

you ignore it.

“uhm, anyway, did you sleep well last night?”

“yeah.”

“okay… uh, what time is your flight tomorrow?”

“i think it’s in the morning,” you feel pity for karina who’s been desperately trying to keep the conversation going, “what about you?”

karina’s face lights up, “it’s at one in the afternoon.”

the waiter soon arrives with your food. its mouth-watering. karina hands the waiter a note and says something in italian that you don’t understand.

“you can speak italian?” you ask, curiosity taking over you.

“yeah, a little,” karina mumbles. she doesn’t seem to want to elaborate, so you don’t bother asking any more. you gorge yourself out with the pastries that karina ordered, all while she looks a little constipated and unsure.

“you’re not going to eat?”

“i… i already ate before coming here.”

you nod, continuing to chew.

“it’s so early, who’s awake to even eat with?”

karina mutters, “i ate with jaewook.” you swallow the piece of bread in your mouth. the sweetness you tasted on your tongue is gone, just left with a bitter taste. you regret even asking her. you regret coming out of your hotel to eat pastries with her at 9 in the morning.

your head feels clouded. it’s not only gravity pulling you down. it’s a wrangling chain clutching your heart, pulling it into your stomach. the more you think about karina and that guy together, the more you feel like puking out all the sweet treats you stuffed your mouth with. you wanted to get rid of anything related to her.

“are you okay?” she asks.

no, you want to reply.

“i wanna go back,” you say instead.

lying was always better than telling her the truth.

“what? no, uhm,” karina blurts out, panicked, “you can’t go back yet, we still have a lot to sightsee.”

“please let me go back,” you beg, feeling a wave of nausea take over. between her incessant pleading to not leave and the vision of the two of them, jealousy fills your every vein.

“i planned a lot for today and oh my god, yn—” you can’t stand it anymore.

swiftly, you take out a wad of cash, placing it on the table and leaving the cafe without a second look behind. you stomp out quick, steady steps back to the hotel and you can feel karina hot on your heels. she calls out for your name, but to no avail do you turn back. you think of a plan. once you get back to your room, you’re going to block karina on everything. she’s never going to exist in your life ever again. if your job requires you to interact with her, it’s a bare minimum. you’ll break off contact with all of your mutual friends, ryujin, minjeong, maybe chaewon (but yujin and wonyoung would kill you).

it’s only when you reach a traffic light that karina catches up with you. once it flashes red, you groan. you can basically see karina’s triumphant smirk at the corner of your eye.

“are you done running now?”

you take a good look at karina. she’s panting, not more than you are, and her cheeks are flushed red.

the light flashes green.

“no.”

and the chase begins again.

karina tails you until you reach the hotel lobby. you open up your purse, searching for the keycard. karina is just a few steps behind.

you hear gasps of recognition behind you, the very reason you wanted to cover up your identity.

the moment the lift reaches the ground floor, you slide in, rapidly pressing the close button. karina, however, navigates through the crowd and manages to reach the lift in time.

you groan, your attempt at running away has failed. maybe you could still convince karina to leave you alone somehow. she wouldn’t try to break into your room, right?

“this is awkward now.”

“yeah, i wasn’t expecting you to follow me,” you sneer, “if a woman says she wants to leave, just let her leave for god’s sake.”

“okay, that’s my fault but you literally left out of nowhere, and you’ve been acting weird ever since last night,” karina argues back.

the lift beeps. you exit it with karina following you closely behind, still ongoing about your sudden change in behaviour.

“like last night, you left early and we didn’t even have time to talk or anything, and when i asked you about it you didn’t even explain anything?! just brushed me off and left! can you just tell me what’s going on?”

you two reach your room.

“i don’t need to explain myself to you. i said i was tired.”

“okay, but what about today? i planned the whole day for us to hang out and you just got up and left? what the hell! are you just an asshole who plays with people’s feelings? you told me you ‘can’t wait to see me’ and then just left like that,” karina raises her voice. a elderly couple passes you two and you feel self-conscious. you were just standing outside your room letting karina yell at you.

“come in then yell, you’re getting weird looks.”

karina inhales sharply, finally calming down.

you sit down on one of the lounge chairs, taking a deep breath.

“i really don’t have anything to explain to you. i’m sorry. and i’m not the one playing with people’s feelings here.”

“what? are you insinuating that i’m the one playing with your feelings?”

“uh, if the shoe fits?”

karina slaps your arm, “are you serious right now? can you just talk to me for once?! is this your first time being friends with someone?” friends? since when were you ever just friends with karina?

“no, it isn’t,” you swallow, “it’s my first time feeling this way for someone.”

“what?”

“do you know how many times i think about you in a day? it’s once, because i never stop. it hurts me every time i see you with someone else and i know i shouldn’t feel this way because while you reside in my mind, i have to hope that I cross yours once in a while to feel less pathetic of myself. do you know how that feels? to want to exist in someone’s thoughts. i feel happy just to know that you’re even acknowledging my presence. but you didn’t. you didn’t even care when i was there, so you shouldn’t care when i’m not,” the weight of unshed tears came pouring out. you let out a watery but hollow laugh. karina makes your heart ache, she makes you feel defeated and useless, she makes you feel angry and jealous.

“you make me feel that life is worth living for. that i went through all those torturous years just to meet you.”

karina, is life in itself.

“and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to find someone else that makes me feel this way. have you ever felt that way about someone?”

she stares at you, unblinking. she comes to terms with your words finally.

“i’m sorry,” she says.

“it’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping your tears.

“i’m sorry i hurt you.”

“of course you’ll hurt me. of course we’ll hurt each other, because this is the condition of living. and what’s not love, if not living for each other?”

“i didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

you sigh, “regret is a stupid thing. when you reject me, i would be better off knowing that we wouldn’t work out because you don’t like me, rather than me not telling you and wondering if we would ever work out. and you’re with that guy anyway.”

“who told you i would reject you? and who said i was with him?”

“oh.”

“i feel everything that you’ve just said, about you. and i’m upset that you were planning to just throw me away like that because of our inability to communicate.”

you laugh, more heartily this time, “i just didn’t want to be one of your conquests or whatever.”

“you’re more than one of my conquests. i wouldn’t dream of even letting you go. some people search their whole lives to find what i found in you. you can be assured that i won’t ever let you go.”

her sincere words draw red to your cheeks, warmth spreads from your neck to the tip of your ears. “you still like me,” you repeat, “even when i’m a jealous freak, have commitment issues and i care too much?”

“even with all those traits. if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be the yn i like,” karina’s voice softens as does her touch. she takes your hand in hers, caressing the back of your hand with her palm.

“even if i don’t understand why you get angry and why you ignore me, i still like you. that’s what makes you, you. and love is all about understanding.”

you nod. all the crying has made you feel drowsy, and your fatigue is apparent, since karina smiles in amusement and says, “wash up and take a nap. i’ll be here.”

she’ll be here.

“thank you, jimin.”

karina, or rather, jimin, chuckles, “hurry up and shower. i hope you brought extra clothes since i’m going to change too.”

you quickly wash up and so does jimin. the two of you settle into the bed, your hands clutching at jimin for warmth and intimacy. you have her. the thought allows you to drift asleep, finally knowing that jimin’s heart beats the same for yours.

when the sun sets as you wake up from your nap, you can’t help but blurt out, “i adore you.”

jimin, pleasantly surprised, only giggles back.

“i adore you too, in ways words cannot express.”

maybe paris wasn’t the city of love. yours was milan.

🎙️ author’s note: this is probably one of my favourite fics i’ve written. most of my own personal values have been put into this fic. regret is a stupid thing, we only live once and we have no idea if we’ll ever get to live again. find people that makes life worth living for. happy birthday yu jimin, aespa’s stupid cheese cat 🤍

#aespa #aespa x reader #karina x reader #jimin x reader #yu jimin x reader

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privitivium · 3 months

Note

hi love- no specific request or character but just think you would write cnc so well. maybe a tiny bit of forced feminization, especially to an overly shy sub. so fun :-)

ps i love your writing, you're doing great hon.

y,,ess,,, hon teehee,..,,,,. cnc - not noncon/dubcon,,, well. maybe dubcon. ahemhrn. i will totally reuse the forced feminization to make other fics aweosmely. not as "forced feminized" i apologize ahemrhm.

shy,, subbot “nerd” amab m x domtop jock? amab m reader

“ahaa.. caught youuu..” you hum teasingly, thick arm firmly wrapped around the middle of your little plaything - a term you use affectionately. he's yours, as in.. you are his, but not in the same way,...,,, “tryin to get away? how cruel of you..” you pout, puckering your lips and placing a fat kiss on his bright red cheek with your arm fixed slung over his shoulders and sneakily guiding him away from the main hall.. he huffs softly, face burning deep red and positively feeling sick from the butterflies swarming his belly at your scent and mere warmth,,, “i wasn't.. i wasn't trying to hide from you..” he murmurs meekly - as shy and awkward as ever despite taking your cock balls deep like a champ just a couple of days before…

“yeah, yeah.. sure.” you roll your eyes, grinning slyly - turning to look at him, his cute lil eyes covered by his hair, hanging over his expression as he keeps his head lowered.. “i totally believe you..” you mock, feigning true grit as you shove him along - hand moving to grip the back of his shirt. you look up and down the hall - a purely empty section, no one to wander besides you and your cute lil bfㅡ“n-no wait, here?” he looks up at you - finally, and you see his pretty eyes widen, glistening with what, tears already? he looks away immediately, his breath catching as he holds his arms across his chest.

“Yeah.. here.” you hum, tuning into your suave persona as you slowly inch him toward the wall, dimly lit hall.,,. “i've been so pent up, you know.. the thought of you makes me rock hard, y'know?” you continue nonchalantly - and he glances down, low and behold, a prominent bulge,,, mouth watering as your much bigger hands were placed upon his hips, gently caressing.. w-wait, no! “please, can't we go somewhere elseㅡa bathroom, classroom,,,” he pushes from the wall, moving to get awayㅡonly to be slammed back into position with his pants yanked down abruptly - underwear having caught on his pants, leaving him bare,., a soft high-pitched mewl leaving his saliva-glossed lips as his dick swings freely between his soft thighs,,. breath hitching in his throat as he stills, unsure if you were actually going to hurt himㅡdick twitching to lifeㅡ

"woah.. i can't believe i have never given your chest love, babe.." you tut at yourself, hissing softly as you grope his squishy pecs, humming in satisfaction,,, tilting your head and squinting curiously,; “damn.. you sure got a body like a chick.. you sure you aren't one?” completely glossing over the fact that his dick was glistening pre; continuing nonchalantly.

blushing so hard that tears were pricking his cute lil puppy-dog eyes.. he swallows thickly, shivering at the draft that blows gently through the dimly lit hallway,,, breathing deeply, sniffling - trying not to start hyperventilating-! “oh, yeah.. that's my good lil girl, huh.. you like that??” you grinned smugly, gentle hand stroking along his ever hardening length ,,, head tilting back haughtily as you inch your hips forward, hand wrapping around both of your cocks and giving them a slight tug upwards - relishing in the way he whimpers, hips bucking forward and grinding his dick into yours,,- “that's it… y'like this, of course you do.. a disgusting fucking freak, huh? is that what you are, honey?”

you pull away, dicks leaving a string of pre as if they were making outㅡjust to squat down to pull his clothes off, tugging off his shoes; pants following before you were up and restraining him before he got shy again.. “alright - that's much better, huh?” you grinㅡ

“.. no,,” he had the balls to whisper, “s’ cold.. don't like.. i don’ like being,,, here..” he continues gently, under his breath - your hand finding his flushed, tear-streaked cheek and pinching, “i'll find a way to warm you up.” and without another word, you turn him around - pulling his ass toward you with his head shoved into the wall - hand stationed in the middle of his shoulder blades.. soft mewls music to your fucking ears as he squirms, fidgeting on instinct - your free hand, eagerly trailing down the cleft of his ass and cold fingers circling the rim dryly... before you pull away, using the pre-cum dribbling from your tip and moving back in place - circling his entrance gently, before you pushed inward with a finger without restraint, ignoring the way he tensed, making it harder to fingerfuck him- then adding another - pumping two digits in and out swiftly,,,,; once you deemed it stretched enoughㅡ pumping eagerly in and out before you had four fingers up his ass - stretching him fully and covering his mouth trying to mute his sobs as you were continuously grazing his prostate.… a sight you'd often admire on your phone as it was your homescreen. ahemhrm. you pull your fingers from him - his legs trembling as if he were about to collapse,,

“no worries, babe.. i'll hold you up.” grinning excitedly as you turn him around, admiring his smaller, bobbing cock before you slowly lift up his leg; jerking your dick with spit and pre.,,, keeping him upright as you prod at his entrance, gently teasing his rim - pushing your hips forward and cock throbbing at his little mewls of denial,,, before lifting him up with your brute strength and thrusting inward;; cock bullying past his finger stretched ring of muscle,,, mewling yourself at the way he convulsed around you,,, filling him completely with a hefty push; a silent gasp leaving his lips, mouth a round O that'd you'd love to totally fill your cock with. "yea-aah.. fuck, you.. mmgh, that's it, m'girl.” you grunt, nodding in weak praise. his ass clenching around you - nervous, butterflies swarming uncomfortably at the thought of someone turning the damn corner and seeing you, t-though the thought,,, is enticing,,,,,, fucking into him sloppily, not quite paying attention to his tears as he would've thought, becoming a lil more sensitive as he was wantin to be coddled whilst fucked against the wall,..

#ocs =͟͟͞͞★#nerd loser guy #x male reader #male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader #x top male reader #sub male character!!!

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nctstar · 9 months

Note

hi! i just read "one, two..." with djj × female pairing and i was wondering if you could maybe do a jeno, haechan and mark/jaemin version? i love your works!

your wish is my command bsf <3 also thank you so much! means a lot :)

don't let us kinkshame you!

“Don’t talk back to me. If you want to stop, we’ll stop. But don’t stop because you’re shy. Tell us what you want, baby.”

“Yeah, _. Don’t let us kinkshame you.”

pairing: markhyuckno x fem!reader, stylist!reader

other members: chenle (poor dude has no idea)

word count: 7.2k

genre: smut

warnings: this is purely a graphic smut so minors please dni!! foursome, everything is consensual (safeword is established + mentioned), dom!marhyuckno (hard dom!jeno), sub!reader, fanfiction smut is a main theme in this, wet dreams, alpha/omega/beta kink, alpha!jeno, sir kink, sort of muscle/size kink (i'm sorry but bulging biceps make me go insane), unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you get silly folks), rough sex (reader is manhandled/held down), degradation (liberal use of the words slut, whore, brat + other degrading terms), everyone has a ginormous dick, slight praise kink, sort of pain play (not really) intense orgasms, squirting, fingering (fem receiving), humiliation, oral (male receiving), nipple play, riding, crying during sex, spanking, begging, punishing reader sexually, profanity

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.

a/n: thank you anon and sorry this is definitely the nastiest thing to ever come out of my imagination and onto my laptop. i think i'm on some sort of watchlist for sure

“Have you read it, _?”

“Read what?” The sound of the hairdryer muffled most sounds in the room, including Mark’s voice as you watched his mouth open and close with his answer. Running your hands through Haechan’s semi-dry locks, you noticed a lit-up phone in front of your face. Squinting, you read while your hands worked.

poison | alpha! jeno x reader | 18+

You swallowed thickly, but quickly composed yourself. Swiping the hairbrush off the dresser, you glanced at Haechan in the mirror, setting his hair at the same time. “Sounds like more action than you two would ever get in a week…combined.”

Haechan rolled his tongue inside his cheek, playfully annoyed while Mark remained undeterred, his eyes still glued to his phone. His eyes suddenly widen, and he looks away, a mix of morbid curiosity and shock in his eyes. “Damn...”

Haechan sneered. “Got a boner there, Mr Lee?”

An empty can of hairspray bounced off Haechan’s forehead with a dull thump, Mark’s chair now swivelled around to face him. “Guys! Let me do my job! We only have, like, 2 minutes to go, and Haechan, your damn hair isn’t setting.”

“I have to dye it every 2 minutes because I have a comeback that often, remember?”

“Have you been using the treatment I gave you last session?”

“Why? Would you give me a reward if I did?” His deep brown irises glistened under the harsh white lights as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Smacking his shoulder in response, you tried to hide the way your heart was fluttering inside your chest, like a million butterflies trapped in a glass jar. “Lee Donghyuck!”

“It’s okay baby, it’ll be better next time.”

“Gross.” Embarrassingly, you felt your core twitch at the mere thought of those words being taken out of context. “Such a dirty mind. You sure you didn’t write that alpha fic?”

You were getting brave, but something inside of you forced you to keep going. Haechan scoffed, rolling his eyes and swinging one leg over the other. “Yeah, I don’t have the hots for Jeno. Mark might, though.”

“Say it one more time, Donghyuck, I’m warning you.” Mark was shrugging the salon cape off himself, brushing lint off the stage jacket. He towered over his hairstylist, on her tiptoes as she fixed the strands of hair that spiked strategically on his forehead. His undercut teased you from the side, and you swallowed deeply, thinking about last night. As if on cue, Mark turned to look at you, as quick as you would glance at the barista for your morning coffee. “See you later.”

That was code for see you later with my cock down your throat.

∞

“Nghhh, Mark.”

“You’re doing so well, baby. Think you can go a few more times?”

You nodded slowly, the swollen bulb of his cock sticking onto the remnants of your lipgloss.

“Fuck, such a perfect slut. How did we get so lucky, hmm?” Your hair tangled in his long fingers, he pierced you on his thick length, tapping your cheek with his other hand when you gagged loudly. “Shhh, quieter. Don’t want anyone else to hear, yeah?”

You whimpered softly, desperately trying to open wider to accommodate him. He pushed you deep until your nose grazed his pubic bone, your hands immediately coming to his thighs as a reflex. “Good fucking girl. God, I’m so close. All for you, baby.” You pushed on his thighs when you felt your throat restrict uncomfortably, coughing up saliva as you soon as his cock left your mouth.

Mark tipped your head up to face him, your watery eyes staring back at him. “Gonna make you feel so good after this, yeah?” His thumb pressed down on your tongue hard, forcing drool to slide down your chin. “Use your words, slut. Tell me how much you need my cock.”

Mark was usually mean, but today he was mean mean, and, though you were taken aback, you couldn’t say you hated it.

Garbled sounds left your mouth as Mark slipped his other fingers inside your mouth, forcing you to babble nonsense at him. He laughed darkly. “So pathetic.”

“Mark, please.” You gasped as he released your mouth, fingers now grabbing your chin tightly. “Wanna make you feel so good, s-sir.”

“Wanna make your alpha feel good, baby?” You froze immediately, the word alpha stunning you into place like a deer caught in headlights.

You and Mark stared at each other for much longer than would normally be considered sexy, the energy in the air quickly changing into something painstakingly awkward. Not wanting to lose the momentum you both had gathered or, worse, discuss what just happened, you grabbed at his cock and shoved your mouth onto him, making him stumble backwards and groan. The air was filled with sounds of sloppy head, all caution thrown out the window as you bobbed your head through his orgasm, not stopping until you felt hot spurts of cum shooting down your throat.

∞

“Mark, I will never let you forget this.”

“Haechan, be serious here.” Mark unbuttoned the top of his jeans, breathing out in relief as the seams on the size-too-small pants released its iron-clad grip on his body. The inside of the car was dark, the only light being that coming from Haechan’s phone, illuminating the bottom of his face and lips, now curled into a teasing smirk.

Haechan leant forward, seemingly trying to hide the impending conversation from the poor staff member tasked on driving them back to their dorm. “You used the word alpha unironically while you were making _ suck your dick? I’m actually fucking dying right now.”

“Oh my god, yes, we get it, I tried something new and it failed miserably.” Mark hissed under his break, sneaking one glance behind him. “But what was weirder is…well, you should have seen the look on her face. It’s like she got caught or something.”

Haechan chuckled lowly. “Or maybe she was just weirded the hell out, Mark.”

“Well,” Mark scratched at his head, the hair gel residue now itching at his scalp. “We usually…do more. But today, she just ran out after that and didn’t say anything else.”

“Good job, Milk. You just ruined your chances at sex with her forever, you freak.”

Mark sighed, pretending not to have heard him and frowning as if deep in thought. Haechan raised one eyebrow. “You don’t mean to say…”

“What?”

“That’s not what you’re insinuating, is it?” The car began to slow, and both men became wary of the newfound quiet inside the car as they cruised down a near-empty suburb, the odd man or woman dimly lit by passing streetlights as the walked by. “What are you talking about right now?” As Haechan reshuffled himself on his seat to get closer to Mark, one leg brushed past his, and he cleared his throat, trying to be as unsuspecting as possible.

“You think she’s into that kinda stuff?”

“Well, why would she run away then?”

“Think about what we were doing before this.” The words felt unsure even as they left his mouth, hanging in the air with uncertainty. It was too ridiculous no matter how he looked at it. But just he had to say it.

The elephant in the room.

“Wait, wait. That’s her story?”

“Woah.” Haechan put down his phone officially, the car now shrouded in a new darkness, both men squinting to make out the other’s face. “I meant that she might have read it. Not that she…well.” He was visibly puzzled now, his voice faint but quick like a flurry of feathers. “I mean, there’s that possibility. But maybe she was into it, and you reminding her of it made her embarrassed.”

“But why would she be embarrassed? We do worse things, for sure.”

“Okay, first of all, gross. Second, she probably hasn’t accepted it herself. I mean, that fic…” He leant back, his jacket crinkling loud in the almost silent car. “There’s stuff in there that goes way beyond your regular wild kinks and shit.”

“She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.” Both men sit in silence for a while, letting that sink in. “I mean…she would be confident enough to be bolder about that kind of thing, you know? She’s the kinda girl that knows what she wants, when she wants it, exactly how she wants it.”

“Right.” Haechan bit his lip, trying to hold back the words that’s so fucking sexy for fear of being teased mercilessly for months. He knew you belonged to no one, yet there was a part of him that recognised that you would probably never choose him to have your way with. The way you looked at Mark, eyes glazing over in deep submission, a stark contrast to the way you looked at him, so many things hidden behind those playful, bratty eyes.

Mark hummed under his breath, phone now in hand. “She’s coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I think it’s her shift tomorrow.” Haechan didn’t think, he knew. He knew you worked Mondays and Fridays and the occasional Wednesday, always arriving between 13 to 16 minutes early to go to the bathroom first, stepping into the dressing room just a minute before and no later. It was creepy, for sure, but he couldn’t help it. He felt the need to be ready whenever you were there. He needed you to see him only in the ways he wanted, layers of banter and smooth mannerisms hiding his true feelings underneath, the way his heart slammed against his ribcage and threatened to break free whenever you moved close.

“Well, we’ll see how she reacts then.” Mark slouched against his seat, his voice fading away as his attention shifted, and Haechan marvelled at how five second thoughts of you had rendered him completely amnesiac to what he was just talking about with Mark. He closed his eyes, letting his body naturally drift off into an exhausted slumber.

∞

“Hey boys.”

Your satin-clad hips swayed back and forth as you walked, one hand re-applying your gloss for what felt like the dozenth time. “Anyone need a touch up or are we all good here?”

Mark was surprised at your easy demeanour, as if nothing was ever going on between you guys, let alone the encounter you two had had only yesterday. He cleared his throat, sweat dripping down his forehead as another staff member helped him unzip his top from the back. “You look…nice.” He wondered if it was obvious that he was trying to keep his eyes locked on your face, not wanting his gaze to linger too much on your body.

“Yeah, I’m dressed for the event after this. That’s still happening, right?” Your heels clacked against the linoleum floor as you stepped forward. Haechan was only two steps ahead of you, his hair in the hands of another stylist. You whispered something to her and she let go, walking away with the gel stick still in her hand. “Look forward.”

“Didn’t really strike me as the party type, _.” Your last name drawled off his lips, lazy and nonchalant. “Always stroke me as weird book girl in the corner type.”

“And what if I am?” You started backcombing his stiff strands, grimacing at the residue the gel was leaving and the way it was inevitably mixing with his sweat. “I can be both, can’t I?”

“Sure. You could be a writer, couldn’t you, _?”

Haechan could have sworn that even for a split second, a moment so small, so blink and you’ll miss it, that you hesitated. Your hands shook with the energy of a tiny hummingbird flapping its wings, so swift it stopped as soon as it registered. “Nah.” You sounded different now, like you were feigning innocence to hide the fact that he had cornered you.

Mark and Haechan shared a knowing side-eye as Haechan felt firm pulls on his scalp. “You should probably get going, Mark.” His name fell solid in the air as it left your mouth, as certain as a command would be, and your peripheral vision caught the ends of his body as he packed up his things and left soundlessly.

It was only you and Haechan in the room now, the other stylists now long gone (a/n: how convenient!), leaving behind only the mess of a true makeup studio, products strewn haphazardly across the plastic dressers. You watched Haechan lick his lips on instinct in the mirror, only now noticing the various sticky notes adorned with Korean letters you weren’t too familiar with. “No, don’t. You’ll mess up the- oh, never mind.” You sighed, but it didn’t feel relieving at all, as if your muscles were constricting up again instead of letting go. Haechan talked at your reflection. “Sorry.”

A whirl of your arm sent his chair turning so he was now facing you, bending over to match his eye level. “Hold still.” As your breaths played out of sync, you were hyper aware of every sensation. The way your hairs stood on end. The smell of his musky cologne now filling your nostrils. Your bare legs suddenly burning hot, slightly brushing against the inside of his knees. Your eyes fighting to stay up at his face and not stray downwards. “That’s it.” You glazed his lips over with your applicator, gripping the tube and the arm of the chair in one hand.

You were used to these intimate positions, particularly with the job you had. But, as you realised you had just applied your own lipgloss onto him, a different feeling was dawning on you.

As you locked eyes, Haechan spoke, bold and ready. “It would be insane if you didn’t kiss me right now.”

The first noticeable sensation was the sticky mess that threatened to spread over the edges of both of your lips, lewd sucking noises now filling the air as you both dived deeper. Your tongue flitted over his lips and he groaned. “Fuck.” Readjusting in his chair, he slapped his thigh. “Sit, sit.”

“No.” Pulling away, you turned his chair once again to face the mirror and patted his shoulder. “Stand up.”

“W-wh…” Confused, he stumbled off anyway, wheels turning and the seat rolling away from the impact of his stand. He turned to face you.

“Good boy.” You smirked, lips now grazing the supple skin of his Adam’s apple, hands travelling down to his pants. “Is this what you wanted all along, baby?”

He stared, eyes slightly glassy, rimmed with smudged black kohl. Tilting his head back, he breathed soft moans onto your skin as you sucked on his neck, red blooming onto his olive skin. “A-ah.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, I need you right now, Hyuck.” Something about using his real name felt too intimate, affectionate even, and he kissed you as you unbuckled him, semi-stiff cock hitting your clothed pelvis. Pushing him back onto the vanity, you angled yourself, him eventually helping you by giving you a small lift once he realised what was happening. Up on your toes, one leg slightly elevated, you let your walls suck him in all at once. “O-oh, fuck.”

He thrusted upwards, iron grip on your hips unchanging as you clawed at his back, the studs on his jacket rough underneath the pads of your fingers. The pleasure was spreading to your chest, rendering you speechless. “Oh my god, oh, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You begged, feeling your thighs slip against each other as your own arousal dripped down your legs.

“_? You sleeping right now?”

You awoke with a gasp, your phone clattering onto the tiles as you sat up. “Woah, take it easy. You alright?” He leant over to pick up your thankfully intact phone, shuffling closer with one arm outstretched and eyebrows gently raised.

Before you was Lee Jeno, blonde hair grazing the top edges of his round eyes, body bulging against the thin fabric of the white shirt. His waist accentuated by a thick leather belt, you noticed the outskirts of his toned stomach peeking out from under his top. Gulping, you nodded. “Y-yeah. Thanks, um…” His name died on your lips, as if some sort of curse prevented you from ever uttering it.

“Here. You sure you’re okay? You were sleeping pretty deeply, even in this noise. Sorry, I didn’t know if I should wake you…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, I’m the crazy one, right? Sleeping at a party!” You tried to laugh it off, but a snort came out instead, and you blushed intensely. Oh my god. This is so embarrassing.

Unfazed, Jeno smiled, eyes turning into semicircles as he did. “It would be fine if you went home, you know.” He tilted his head, blonde hairs perfectly aligning to one side. The charisma radiating off him froze you in place, and you had to unglue your eyes from his face. “Ah, yeah.” Truthfully, your body felt like it had been through a dryer, and your joints were cracking like popcorn. You needed sleep for sure.

He jumped from the couch, letting you bounce slightly. Looking up, he extended his arm. “Come. I’ll drop you off.”

∞

You felt exposed. Not only because you were in the skimpiest outfit you owned, but because halfway through you and Jeno’s exit from the party, he had decided it was too cold and had changed into a hoodie and sweats, making him look less and less like a colleague or client or even friend and more like an idol sugar daddy. Nevertheless, you didn’t oppose his company, and you both rode back in silence, his knees knocking into yours occasionally, making your heart flip each time.

It’s not that he made you nervous, typically, despite your tiny little crush on him. But it was the way he woke you up right in the middle of your wet dream with another man, mere hours after his bandmate had you on your knees sucking him off. Every time he leaned over, your name leaving his lips so effortlessly as you stumbled over yours, your hands shook with the thoughts than ran wild in your brain. Did he know? You wondered, as he droned over some tiktok video, whether he knew about your sexual rendezvous with his bandmates, some real and some imagined, and the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach only grew as time passed.

It didn’t change as you had reached in your apartment, him somehow still on the topic he was on in the car, now manspreading onto your couch as you sat quietly across from him.

“But like, do you get it, _?” He sipped on the coffee you had made for him, marvelling at how quickly he drank something that usually took you an hour to finish. “Not bad. But why would he even do that, you know? Maybe she didn’t realise that he knew, but oh boy, he definitely knew.”

“Right.” To be clear, you had lost the plot ages ago, shamelessly thinking more about how close in proximity your bodies were, how comfortable he suddenly was around you, and what it all meant. “Do you want, uh, something else.” Shyly gesturing at his empty mug, you tucked hair behind your right ear, the movement unsteady.

He stared directly at you now, letting your anxiety rise and fill the space between your bodies. Holding the gaze, he dropped the mug in front of himself on the table, only then dropping his head dramatically in between his collarbones. You frowned.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “I must be annoying, right.”

“No, no, not at all!” Your voice was much more high-pitched than a woman with any self-esteem, but you kept going. “I mean, that’s fine, Jeno, really. It’s nice to see you, like passionate, and um…” Your babbling continued, and he only smirked in response. Your stomach turned as you suddenly watched as his eyes change, darken around the edges. Suddenly the lights in your apartment felt harsh, exposing, like the lights on a fresh crime scene.

“_. I know about the fic.”

“What fic?” It was on instinct, but your ears starting ringing, blood running cold in your hands and feet. This isn’t real. This is another dream.

“Awww, don’t be embarrassed, baby. It’s okay to think those things about me.” He slumped backwards, one arm around the back of the couch, a subtle cocky smile starting to bloom across his face. “Markie told me how good you are anyway.”

“Jeno…” You fought the urge to gasp, your face burning from the inside out. “I, wait, um…”

“Shh, stop that.” He leaned forward with an almost-too-eager attitude, but he held himself back as he spread his knees wide, pointing at the ground. “Here.”

“Fuck, this isn’t happening.” Your hair whipped the sides of your face as you shook your head vigorously, slowly gazing up at his long frame as you did. You swore you heard him laugh quietly. “This is another dream, isn’t it.”

“So you dream about me?”

“No, it was about Hae-“ Jeno’s eyes widened before he guffawed loudly. “Fuck, _, you’re nastier than I thought. Was he good? Better than Mark?”

It was your turn to be shocked, eyes widening as he shook his head, letting his hair ride up his forehead. “Why, did you think it was a well-kept secret? Have you seen Mark? He glows with the radiance of a man who gets his dick sucked on the regular.”

“Jeno.” You wanted to be stern, but your voice came out kind of soft, almost like a whimper.

Jeno rolled his eyes. “Stop stalling, _. You heard me the first time.”

“But-“

“But what? If you want to stop, you can just say cherry. That’s what her Jeno told her to say, right?”

He had read the entire thing. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

As your body filled with an airy energy, you realised you were actually getting horny. He wanted you, maybe even needed you, and that filled your stomach with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. You slowly gulped, hearing the couch shuffle as you moved off it, walking over to him.

“Good girl. On your knees, baby.” You obeyed silently, eyes onto the floor as you waited.

“What are you waiting for, slut?” You felt Jeno’s rough hands grab the short strands of your hair, making you squeal like a tiny animal. “Do you wanna go home without tasting alpha’s big cock tonight, hmm?”

“Nnngh…n-no.” You eyes began to water at the force pulling on your scalp, hands fumbling around the waistband of his grey sweatpants. Your heart began to pound as you eyed the sizable bulge he was forming in his boxers.

“That’s it. Now hands behind your back.” As his length sprung out of the tight confines of his underwear, you cried out as it hit you square in the nose. “O-oh my god. Oh…fuck, wait, I don’t know.” Feeling Jeno’s unforgiving grip on your head keeping you dangerously close to him. you brought your palms to his knees, ready to push him away.

“What is it now?”

You shook your head, throat constricting already at the thought of his length inside your mouth. “It’s…well…fuck, it’s huge.”

As you looked up at him, you watched him give you a condescending smile. “Do you think alpha cares about you, baby, hmm? Why are you telling me all this? I don’t give a flying fuck. You either take all of me, or you leave. But you’ll leave a bad omega.”

Any other scenario where someone said something like this would have made you cringe, maybe even laugh, but today you felt your breath catch inside your lungs, as if someone was squeezing them extra tight. Word for word from the fic.

Whimpering, you folded both your palms around his girth, making him hiss. “Oh fuck, can’t even wrap my hands around it.” you whispered.

“You guys started without us?”

You jumped off your knees, your brain already forming the myriad of excuses before the initial shock settled and the words finally registered. “What the hell are you two doing in my apartment?” You glared at Mark, and now Haechan, who was slowly starting to come out of the shadows like a creepy stalker.

“Spare key.” The metal glinted as he hung the keychain off his fingers before grabbing it in midair. The same key you had handed Mark a few weeks ago, back when your little sessions were becoming daily (or multiple times a day) and you were sick of having to do the whole thing where he would have to come to your place an hour after you had arrived in case people were following him, or worse, taking pictures. He would have to wait into ungodly hours into the night on days you worked the night shift, which would let the spontaneous lust you had both gathered over the course of the day fizzle out by the time your tired body came home. You couldn’t be seen together outside of the workplace for various reasons, so having him come first carefully and you after had been working pretty well so far.

Except, well, for times like this.

“Mark!” You exclaimed, now fully facing him and closer to his lean frame, the waft of cologne hitting you as you trodded towards him. “Are you serious? You came here without my permission? And let someone else come too, at that!” Haechan acted insulted at this, mouth parting in mock surprise.

“I’m sorry, baby. But come on, Jeno had a great idea that we just couldn’t miss.” He brought one hand to stroke the side of your face, making you wince slightly. The ends of his fingers were like electricity, having more power over you than you liked to admit. You made eye contact with Haechan, and it was like you were back inside your dream. This. Wasn’t. Happening.

“I-wait…are you guys…seriously, what, you’re not saying-“

“Alright, talk over. Get over here, _. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.” Jeno let one arm hang lazily across the arm of your couch, another one stroking his length at an agonising pace. Your eyes felt like they were bulging out of your sockets, and your stomach churned nervously.

“Stop drooling and suck me off like a good omega. Come on, don’t be shy.”

You were on your knees again, Jeno’s cock at eye level, trying to ignore your newfound audience with a very telling tremble of your legs. Opening your mouth, you began to suck around his tip, the salty precum exploding on your tongue. You felt a hand on the back of your head, and you jerked away immediately. “Stop teasing. Come on, show your alpha and these dumb little betas what you’re good at.” You whined. “Fuck, fuck.” Choked cries filled the air as Jeno impaled you on his cock with one hand, his tip hitting the sensitive part of your throat and making you gag loudly.

As he pulled you off, strings of saliva attached him to your lips, embarrassingly making your core clench around nothing as you marvelled at how filthy this entire situation was. “So big.” Your voice was raspy, juices slathered over your chin as if he’d been fucking your mouth for hours. Jeno let you engulf him whole again, the sloppy sounds becoming more rhythmic as he bounced your face back and forth on him. “Hands off me and behind your back.” You balled your fists as you listened to him, closing your eyes as he groaned in pleasure. “So warm and tight. All for me, yeah?” You shook your head up and down as you hummed in response, looking up and him with your watery eyes.

You watched Jeno’s eyes drift away from you to something behind. “Ah, wait, let me get her off me first.” His voice changed now, you barely comprehended what was happening as you gasped for air post pull-off, before feeling a resounding slap on the back of your bare thighs. “Ah!”

“You think you can just leave me after sucking me off, baby? After all that we’ve been through.” You felt your skirt be pulled up, making you sit back on your heels. “Nuh-uh. Get up, let me see you.”

“Fuck, Mark, I didn’t me-oh!” This time he hit your ass, hard, jolting you onto Jeno’s thigh, his cock still grazing the side of your cheek. “Oh, fuck. Mmm.” You tried to shuffle forward but Jeno grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them on his thigh on one side. “Take it like a good girl.” The sting was immediately compounded by the feeling of our own arousal dripping down your thighs, the nasty realisation dawning on you that these assholes were recreating every scene that was written in that damn fic.

“Oh my god, I just wrote it, I didn’t…ah, Mark,” You whined as he squeeze a sensitive part of the plush on your backside. Between hits, you managed to sound out, “I, oh…ah, I didn’t write it for me – oh fuck! Nngh, didn’t mean it, oh my god.” Tears threatening to spill, you resorted to begging. “Mark, M- sir, please!”

“You called, baby?” Trying to turn your head uncomfortably back, you coughed. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean it?”

“What was that, hmm?” Two fingers in your sopping core and you gasped. “Ah, mmm, sorry, sir, ah…”

“So fucking wet. All from me punishing you like that. Is this what you liked all along, you dirty girl? To be our little sadist fucktoy.” One hand around your shoulders and another still knuckle deep inside you, he pulled you up so that your back hit his clothed chest, grip tight and unfaltering. You moaned, feeling the pads of his fingers curl up towards your g-spot. “S-sir, fuck, so good, so good, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, want more.” You began to bounce your hips on his fingers, head floaty. A sharp slap across your face brought you back to reality, head whacking against the bony part of Mark’s upper chest. “Fucking whore, moving without permission like that.” Jeno was now gripping the ends of your chin, groin facing you once more. “Finish the job, baby. Don’t fucking care what he’s doing.”

“Yes, alpha.” You could have sworn you heard Haechan sigh, a mixture of pleasure and awe, but the moment passed as you took Jeno’s monstrous length once more, your jaw aching already. Mark took this opportunity to start fucking his fingers into you faster and faster. His teeth grazed your earlobe. “You like this, baby? Or you too busy tasting alpha cock to care?”

Your body squirmed under his arm, feeling his muscles bulge against you. Your head felt like jelly as Jeno pounded into you, one hand pushing your forehead down into place. You felt like a little doll being passed around, a slave to your desires, and you screamed as you came, liquid squirting out of your hole and all over your tiled floor as you did.

Your head began feeling floaty, but Jeno wasn’t giving in, and neither was Mark. You tried to get away from his fingers, core already sensitive from your orgasm, but he began to stroke your pussy once more, making you shake your head. Too much. The words were muffled around Jeno’s length, but they seemed to get the idea. “Just a bit more, baby. Tap me if you want to stop.”

Your hands in place, you let Jeno finish inside your mouth, cum leaking from the edges of your lips even as you swallowed diligently. “What a good omega.” Jeno cooed as you fell forward onto your hands, Mark finally releasing you. “Fuck, that was so good.”

“We’re not done yet, honey.” Your head whipped up, looking at Jeno towering over you, cock now hanging limp. “You haven’t taken your pretty boy-toy yet.”

Meeting Haechan’s eyes, you suddenly felt self-conscious at the way you were – skirt half up your ass, wet thighs and chin, a true testament to how much you had been used. Your eyes travelled to the unmistakable tent in his pants, dawning on you that he wanted you too. “H-Haechan.”

“Should’ve just told me you wanted me, baby? Do you know how many times I wanted to just bend you over and fuck you until you begged me to stop? Now I know what a perfect slut you are…”

“Fuck, Hyuckie…”

“Oh, baby.” He began to unzip his pants, hazelnut skin illuminated in the dim lights as you looked up, crawling over shakily. “Tell me what you want, sweetie.”

“Want you so bad. So…s-so much…”

He stopped in his tracks, eyes rolling and crossing his arms across his chest, much to your dismay. “Seems like you don’t want me that bad.”

“No, fuck, I do, I do, I-“

You felt Jeno’s hand land on the skin of your bare ass, making you flinch and look behind in surprise. “Go beg for cock, baby. I know much you need it. Don’t care who’s it is, do you?”

“N-no, I care, I do.” You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt frustrated, feeling like you were being teased unfairly. “I need all of you, please, please.”

“Use your words.” Mark’s voice was stern, unwavering, making you squeeze your eyes shut. You felt blood rushing to your head, impairing your ability to think.

“I felt alpha’s cockhead tease my entrance, and I sunk onto his thick length, crying out as I did. I felt so fu-“

“Oh my god, no, stop. Stop.” You tried getting up, but your legs wobbled, making you stumble forward ironically onto Haechan, his hands now on the sides of your arms, steading you. “You alright? What is that?”

“It’s the fucking fic, oh my god.” In the heat of the embarrassment, you hadn’t noticed Haechan drag you onto his lap, letting you hang your head over one shoulder as you buried your face in your hands. “So embarrassing.”

“Another man’s cock, possibly a beta, pushed inside me with my alpha. Nails dragging against my alpha’s muscular back, I cried, saying it was too much, the stretch ripping me apart, but alpha held me down, shushing me. Pain turned to pleasure and I threw my head back, letting my release spray all over the two men, passing out as soon as I did.”

“Holy shit. I hadn’t seen that part.”

“Yeah, it’s part two. She wrote that last night. Probably too horny to go to sleep, were you, baby?” Your tear-streaked face now facing Jeno, you shook your head. “No. I wrote it-“

“Don’t talk back to me. If you want to stop, we’ll stop. But don’t stop because you’re shy. Tell us what you want, baby.”

“Yeah, _. Don’t let us kinkshame you.”

Haechan now sucking on the thin skin of your neck, you gasped, eyes fluttering and your bare pussy now resting on his clothed bulge. “Fuck, uh, need to be fucked, filled, with both of you. Take another in my mouth, please, fuck, I wanna cu-“

“That’s better, slut. Begging to cum like the whore you are, rutting against him like a little bitch in heat. Go ahead, ride him. Do it properly or you’re not cumming again.”

Your hands scrambled for the zipper, Haechan throwing his head back as his hard, long length sprung out of his fly. He groaned and grabbed the back of your neck, squeezing hard as you pumped him impatiently. “Don’t tease.” Lifting yourself up, you aligned your soaking core to his tip, moaning in staccato as you let gravity let all of him be sucked inside you. “H-Hyuck, oh, fuck, so tight.”

He readjusted his hips, making your hair fall in front of your eyes and your hands slam, splayed out onto his upper chest. “Ah…” You moaned as you rode him, feeling every inch pound your insides, tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. Haechan guided your face to his and slammed his lips onto yours, letting your moans escape into his mouth.

Leaving love bites on your collarbone, Haechan dragged one hand under your shirt, rolling the ends of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger. “H-Haechan, oh, wait-“ You cried out as he pinched the end, not hard enough to be excruciating, but enough to be uncomfortable enough to make you cry out, letting some of his length slip out. “Fuck! I’m sensitive, please.” You heard him shush you, your whines lost amongst the sounds of skin slapping skin as you rode him diligently, trying not to slow down as he played with your chest. “Just felt you squeeze around me, good fucking girl. You like having your body played with like a little brat, hmm?”

Jeno pulled your head back by your face, Haechan releasing your left nipple with an agonising pull, making you cry out. Bringing your upper body back to meet his, he wrapped one arm around the bottom of your stomach, firm and unforgiving. “You wanna take alpha too? Hmm?”

Incoherent sounds left your mouth as you felt Haechan’s cock slide out of you, tingling from the closeness of your orgasm. You felt a sharp smack at your core, making you arch your back. “Haaah…fuck! Yes, yes, s-sir!” Trying to shut your legs on impact, you felt Haechan pry them open again, and, with Jeno tipping you forward, you let him slide back in. Haechan wrapped one arm around the back of your shoulders, another on your lower back, pushing you down on him.

“Hghhh, alpha, please…” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for anymore, your voice sore from all that had happened already. Feeling Jeno’s massive bulb press against your core, your breath quickened. “Ah, fuck, what if it doesn’t fi-oh, ah…” You and Haechan moaned in unison, feeling the tight space get even tighter as Jeno pushed inside, inch by inch.

“Fuck, my little omega takes cock so good.” Tears ran freely down your cheeks, the stretch borderline unbearable but addictive. Your muscles sloppy, you gasped. “I’m so stretched out, alpha, please, can’t move…”

“Shh, you just lie there, baby, and cum when you need to, okay?” Jeno’s voice suddenly soft, you felt something warm spread across your stomach. “Yes, y-yes, alpha, trust you, wanna be good f’you, ah…” You cried softly as Jeno started sliding slowly in and out. “So good, alpha, so good, please, fuck me, oh god.” Jeno started picking up his pace, rendering you speechless, squeezing the back of Haechan’s neck as he jerked his hips up in sensitivity. “Oh my god, Haechan…” Burying your mouth into his neck, you felt a tap on your head as soon as you did, looking up in reflex. Haechan let go of your upper body, letting your hips roll against the two cocks now sliding in and out of you at a pace that was only getting faster. “Did you forget about me, honey?”

“N-no, Markie, ah…” Letting your chin rest against the arm of the sofa, Mark slid his cock easily down and out of your throat, letting the saliva messily drip all over his aching length. “Fuck, what a good cockslut. You think you can get me off again, hmm? Swallow it all like a good girl?”

You nodded, but a sharp smack to your ass made you shake and lose your balance, Jeno pulling you back onto his chest again. “Did you ask alpha for permission, brat?” You cried as Jeno pounded you ruthlessly, shaking your head and mumbling apologies in between moans. “What do you want, baby? Use your words. Or I swear to you I’m not letting you cum.”

“Mmm, wanna suck Markie’s cock, alpha, ah! And…swallow his cum, oh, fuck!” Haechan pushed his length harder into you as Jeno pushed your hips down. “Fuck, alpha, fuck, want you and H-Hyuckie to fuck me while I do it, please, please…” You sobbed as Jeno released you, seemingly happy with your words as he snapped his hips into you. “Oh my god…” Your eyes rolled to the back of your eyes, feeling Mark bringing your near his cock as the pleasure made your legs vibrate. “Hang on, baby. Cum with my cock in your mouth.”

“Alpha, cum, please!” You cried, voice disappearing as you choked around Mark’s thick length. Jeno tapped the back of your hips, mumbling something in support just as soon as you saw white, feeling your own juices spray uncontrollably and your hole constrict as you came around both of them. Haechan cursed as he filled you with his own thick release, Jeno pressing you down as he came into you seconds later. Mark used your mouth as you weakened gradually, muttering sweet praises as he shot his load down your throat, the bitter taste waking you out of your trance.

As you heaved, you wrapped your arms around Haechan, feeling multiple hands rub up and down your bare back. “That’s a good girl. Good job, baby.” You nodded, closing your eyes and drifting off, your body and mind well and truly spent.

∞

“Hey, you alright?” Chenle looked at you with a hint of concern, not clear whether it was directed at you or at his makeup that was now looking a little bit unusual. You shook your head with the tiniest movements, tapping his cheek again with a pale blush. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t move your head.”

“Fine. You just seem different today.”

“I’m okay. Just a low energy day.” Beside you, Haechan and Jeno shared the smallest side glance, Mark smirking at himself as he changed behind the mirrors.

“Big night?” Chenle smiled at you through the mirror as you scurried around the drawers, looking for the angled eyeshadow brush, his hands adjusting his hair to his liking. You sighed, a true muscle fatigue-likes feeling spreading through your body and getting worse with each client. You were actually so tired, and, unprofessionally, not hiding it very well.

Then again, you were probably doing something that would be considered generally much more unprofessional, so you didn’t let it bother you too much.

“You could say that.” You slammed one drawer a little too hard, apologising immediately to the drawer and then rolling your eyes in frustration and embarrassment. “I-I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be back.”

As your heels clacked away, getting softer and softer, Chenle got up, letting the salon cape fall away from him. “What’s up with her?” He mumbled to no one in particular before walking away. Mark soundlessly nodded to Jeno and Haechan, a nonverbal assurance that he would be outside, and Jeno patted Haechan’s shoulder as left shortly after, leaving only Haechan in that small backstage room.

As Haechan stared at his reflection in the mirror, makeup done and hair only half, he opened his lips, letting some tension escape his body.

He thought about you.

How maybe his little white lie didn’t technically hurt anyone in the end.

Technically.

Technically, you were the one who got fucked (in a good way) and got the money for translating poison.

Technically, you did write it. Just not from scratch.

Technically, you were also into that.

But so was he.

He remembered how embarrassed he was when you first found out, and what you said to make him feel better.

“Oh Haechan, don’t worry about it. Don’t let me kinkshame you.”

How right you were in the end.

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dreamofjoys · 9 months

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— CHARGES

Synopsis: The Chief Justice of Fontaine would like to press charges against you for making him break his own principles

C/W: afab, smut, 4.0 archon quest spoilers, public sex, unprotected sex, spanking, you call him your honour, begging, he calls you doll, fingering

A/N: I told myself not to write genshin fics but this man just took my whole breath away

"Do you know why you are here?" Neuvillette's mint breath fan over your ear, hips bucking up to push his lengthy girth back into your hole. "N-no, your honour." You couldn't stop the string of wanton moans that fell out of your lips as Neuvillette fucks you roughly, folding you into half just to get better access to your pussy. You nearly screamed when his dick hits on a spongy soft spot in your pussy that has you seeing stars.

Sensing that it was your weak spot, the chief judge continues to abuse that spot, punctuating each thrust in a slow yet hard manner. "I am pressing charges against you," the judge finally speaks, flipping you onto your back with his dick still rock hard inside you. "for making me break my own principles." You yelped when you felt a sharp vertical pain on your butt. Looking back at Neuvillette with teary eyes, you realised that he was spanking you with the cane that he carries around whenever he holds trials to establish order.

"Neuvi, it hurts." A tear fell from your eye as your butt burns in pain. Neuvillette's heart swooned when he hears the nickname. "Oh, but does this hurt?" you moaned when his dick moves again to kiss your cervix. "I-I like this one more, Neuvi. Pl-please don't hit me with that." You tried your very best to give a pitiful puppy dog eye, even pushing your lower lips out to look more pitiful. However, such mere tricks does not work on the judge who has been delivering sentence on a daily basis, especially if it's one that is of high status.

"Doll, didn't you hear what I say just now?" One of his hand reaches down to rub circles on your clit, playing with the bundles of nerves like a fidget toy. "I am going to press charge against you. Reason being? You made me break my own principles." His slim yet long fingers join his member in to stretch your pussy hole, making you moan in delight at the feeling of being stuffed full. You move your hips up and down, bouncing on his cock and fingers to chase your high.

Neuvillette could feel his usually composed aura falling down. He grabs you by your breast, lifting you up so that your back is finally pressed against his front.

"I am not like this," His dick now drills into your hole at an immensed speed while both of his hands has switched to fondle your breast. "We are in the High Court of Fontaine, where trials are held everyday. And yet here I am, ruining you on the very own chair that I sit to deliver those trials." You didn't care what he was saying, choosing to bounce on his dick like a slut, chasing after the high.

"Look at the scale, it's tipping towards my favour." Neuvillette grabs you by the chin to look at the large scale, the main source of power for delivering the final verdicts in all trials at Fontaine. "It's all because of you, that I have desires to take you on my seat, " you suck onto the fingers that Neuvillette had inserted into your mouth. " It's all because of you, that I am fucking you in this empty court," You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your gonna-

"It's all because I like you, that's why Im losing my composure everyday. The desire to claim you is greater than the desire to act like the proper Chief Judge."

You let out the sinnest mewl when the knot releases, milking the judge's coat like a waterfall. It wasn't long before you feel warm ropes of cum painting your walls, filling your womb with his seeds.

"You are definitely guilty, Y/N."

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x reader smut #smut #fontaine #neuvillette #genshin fontaine #dreamofjoysgenshin

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zephyrchama · 2 months

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Movie Night with Diavolo and Barbatos

A self-indulgent fic (under the read more) inspired by the The Brothers' Hobbies Devilgram story.

SFW fluff, gender neutral reader, it's like 1.5k words long? I just threw together whatever because I wanted to imagine a cozy movie night.

Very few beings in either of the three realms ever got to witness Diavolo or Barbatos in their pajamas. You were the lucky soul who got to see both as they guided you through the castle for a special movie marathon night. Sweatpants and a loose robe were a nice change of pace from the usual stiff-collared uniforms Diavolo typically wore. He excited donned the dragon slippers you gifted him once. Barbatos had his matching owl slippers on under a slimmer, flowier set of pajamas with matching button-up top and bottoms. The fabric looked incredibly smooth, with not a single wrinkle.

The room they led you to was dimly lit. The curtains were drawn so that starlight couldn’t shine through the windows, in front of which were various stacks of DVDs as tall as you. A plush three-person couch had been placed right in the room’s center, squarely in front of a projector that took up an entire wall. In the back of the room closest to where you all entered was a table piled high with treats. Most of it was an approximation of human world movie snacks, but Barbatos had clearly done his best.

"Are those nachos?" You asked. "Pretzels and popcorn... That's so many toppings... M&Ms!? Really? Are those real?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Indeed. Seeing your face light up was worth all the effort to procure them. Please, take as much as you'd like."

Barbatos and Diavolo went to claim their seats on either side of the couch, but encouraged you to take your time with the food. Diavolo clutched a half dozen blockbuster movies in his hand.

“Will you get a plate for me too? I can’t decide what we should start with.” He hummed and hawed, turning each package over to read their summaries.

By the time you were ready, Diavolo had made a choice and loaded up the movie’s main menu. You carried the heaping plates over with enough food for everyone. They each offered to hold them while you sat down.

There was not a lot of room to sit. Despite seating three, Diavolo could have taken up half of the couch by himself and Barbatos was being unusually liberal with how much space he took up. They happily motioned for you to take a seat, Diavolo grinning like a kid.

You sandwiched yourself between them as best you could, wiggling until your back touched cushions. It felt awkward basically distributing your weight over the side of their laps, but neither one made any outward signs of acknowledgement. It was very warm between the two demons. With your thighs brushing those on either side of you, you could confirm their pajamas really were soft. It was incredibly cozy. They both smelled like a recent shower.

“Ready?” DIavolo asked once you were settled in with your plate. “I thought we’d start with an action film to really kick things off on a high note. Let’s begin!”

The bright film cast a gentle light over the three of you. Every time something exploded or a twist occurred, Diavolo would whoop and laugh. He was a very expressive movie watcher.

“This is rather delicious,” he commented in a low voice after cleaning his plate. Diavolo leaned into your ear, bumping your shoulder with his own.“Mind if I try some of yours?”

“Feel free. Barbatos, you too.” There was plenty left, not to mention the entire table of food. Every few minutes his highness would pluck a chip or handful of chocolates off your plate. You realized shortly before the credits that it should have run out already with the two of you constantly snacking. Was it refilling itself?

You turned to Barbatos. His eyes were already transfixed on you instead of the projector, as if you were the night’s main event. “Is something wrong?”

You pointed to the magic plate. “Are you doing this?”

He merely smiled, neither confirming or denying. You softly nudged him in the side in appreciation as he whispered, “if there’s anything you need, just ask.”

As the action flick finally ended, Diavolo leaned forward to browse through the other movies. “What shall we watch next? Romance? Comedy?” He asked as you took advantage of the extra space to stretch.

“I believe romance and comedy often go together, so we could watch both genres at once,” Barbatos said.

“Oh! What about this? It’s very famous, right?” Diavolo thrust an old horror movie at you. You’d heard the name before and vaguely knew its plot, but never actually saw it.

”Yeah, everyone in the human world knows that movie.”

“Then we’ll go with this!”

He loaded it up, while Barbatos sifted through the pile and pulled out a disk. “Let us put this romance comedy on standby.”

The horror movie was way scarier than you thought. Weren’t old films supposed to have cheesy graphics and a now-overdone plot? This was gory and dark. Barbatos and Diavolo were actually laughing at the chainsaw-wielding maniac on screen. “Hilarious! I thought the comedy was after this?” Diavolo exclaimed. You realized once again that demons were not normal.

You put on a brave face and powered through the movie, intent on not ruining their good time. But a particular jumpscare caught you off-guard, prompting a shriek as you shakily turned away from the movie. That turned all the attention on to you. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t mind me, just surprised me,” you stammered.

“Do you find this scary?” Diavolo asked. “This silly thing?”

Barbatos apologized, saying “I hadn’t considered this could be distressing for you. I’ll turn it off immediately.”

“No, it’s fine! We can keep watching,” you insisted while diverting your eyes from the scene on the screen.

Diavolo grabbed your hand. “Nothing could possibly hurt you when we’re here. Isn’t that right, Barbatos? Why, I dare say you’re with the two strongest men in the whole Devildom. We could stop a thousand of these murderous humans.” His lighthearted smile was reassuring as always as he belted out another laugh.

“Would it help if we held your hands?” Barbatos suggested. It was a childish recommendation, but tempting nonetheless. “We could even lock arms, and if the film becomes too much, you can rely on one of us to block it out for you.”

That sounded agreeable, and you approved of it just to get their attention back to the movie. You were thankful the two self-professed strongest demons in the realm would be so accommodating for you. Though embarrassing at first, it did help to bury your head in one of their sides any time things got too horrific.

Any time you jumped towards Diavolo, he would wrap his arm around your shoulders and bring you in closer for a comforting side hug. He’d make small comments, “this actor is very good, does he have any other famous works? I wonder if they filmed this on a set,” so you could focus on the sound of his voice instead of the televised screams.

Any time you jumped towards Barbatos, he would cover your ears and bring your forehead against his chest. It helped to focus on the calm, steady beating of his heart until the scene ended. One hand would gently brush through your hair and down your back until you were composed again.

This film was thankfully shorter than the first one. As you excused yourself to the restroom, you heard Diavolo comment about how it was “too short,” with Barbatos agreeing it was “more fun than expected.” You hoped they really meant the movie, and not the way you acted.

Upon returning, Barbatos had prepared a large fluffy blanket.

“It’s getting quite late, and as you know the Devildom gets rather cold at night.”

You doubted you could get cold while wedged between these two on a sofa. Though, It did add to the movie viewing experience.

The third movie was, as expected, much lighter and more enjoyable. You could laugh along with them and at times explain aspects of human culture important to the plot.

“If she doesn’t want her ex to show up, why doesn’t she just cast a warding spell? Such an easy solution.”

“Humans usually can’t cast magic. Until I got here, I didn’t even know magic was real.”

”Oh! Right.”

Maybe it was all the food, or the addition of the blanket, or the overall coziness of the situation. Your eyelids were starting to get heavy and interest in the film was waning. “Hey, I know we’re only on the third movie, but how many of these are we watching tonight?”

Diavolo stared at you. “As many as we can! We have all those.” He gestured to the massive collection by the windows.

”My lord, some will have to wait until next week.”

“Right, but the night is still young!”

You were at a loss for words. It had been five hours so far. “I don’t… Uh… I’ll try my best, but like, I don’t know if I can stay up that long,” you admitted. Did these two ever even sleep? They were in pajamas, so maybe?

“That is a problem.” Barbatos seemed troubled, unable to think of a solution that didn’t involve delaying their schedule.

“Well, let’s just keep going,” Diavolo offered. “It can’t be helped if you’re tired, but we can still get through what we can. I greatly enjoy having you here! Both as a friend and to clarify what’s happening.” He ruffled your hair before turning his eyes back to the screen.

Before you realized it, you were waking up from a snug slumber. You don’t remember falling asleep, only that you guys had finished the romantic comedy and started on something sci-fi with robots.

On the screen now was a documentary about birds.

“Oh, awake now? This movie’s getting really good, I think you’ll like it.” You were more focused on how nonchalant Lord Diavolo was acting about being your pillow. You quickly and apologetically lifted your head from his lap.

Barbatos had apparently moved you into a more comfortable position while you slept, as the lower half of your body was in his lap as well. He helped you sit up, “careful not to fall now. But yes, this film is most fascinating. Can I get you anything? Some water?”

There were half a dozen questions running through your mind, but the first one out was “what time is it?”

“6:15am, nearly time for the Young Master to begin his day.”

DIavolo huffed. He couldn’t fight the looming workload he had to deal with, so he popped a potato chip into his mouth instead. Despite your insistence that you would sit normally, the two of them equally insisted you lay down and stay comfortable for the remainder of the documentary. It was peaceful.

When all was done, Barbatos procured everyone a change of clothes and started wrapping up the food table. First pick of leftovers went to you. “Would you like to take it all?” he asked.

“Don’t think I can finish all that, but Beel can help me.”

Diavolo went to change in the other room, but called out, “There's still so much we have to watch, and I'd like to go back over the ones you missed! What do you say, same plans for next week? Same day, same time?”

That sounded good to you.

---

(Thanks for reading!) (bonus pic I wanted to put in the text but didn't want to interrupt the story)

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 9 months

Text

FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.

pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader

summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…

warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.

“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.

You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.”

Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.

Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up.

“You asked me to stay behind, sir?”

“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.”

Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.

“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”

“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months.

“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor.

That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself.

Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending.

In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning.

Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—

Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times.

“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”

Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages.

Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame.

“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice.

“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“

“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.”

His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -

“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk.

Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor.

You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it.

This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first.

“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.

“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”

“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything.

Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week.

“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat.

You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew.

Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?”

“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”

“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”

This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear.

With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely.

You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”

Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?

“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.”

The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—

Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch.

“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed.

His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder.

Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further.

Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone.

Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat.

His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”

You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.

“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close.

“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now.

You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.”

“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”

“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision.

A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back.

“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat.

You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you.

He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest.

His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”

“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp.

“You’ll be a good girl for me?”

“The best.”

A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure.

Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body.

His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”

Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”

You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you.

“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”

You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further.

“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.

“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees.

“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”

Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching.

You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle.

“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.

“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats.

“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt.

“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”

Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”

Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold.

“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly.

“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.”

You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face.

“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing.

“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“

Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex.

He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt.

You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”

He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt.

You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before.

Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.

Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”

You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.

“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!” then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.

“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you.

“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”

“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter.

“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack.

“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”

The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride.

“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”

Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.

His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in.

Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further.

“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure.

“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close.

The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch.

“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.

You merely mewled back at him in response.

“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity.

Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.

For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors.

He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.

Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.”

You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.

Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.”

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #batman begins #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

can I request a Joel Miller x reader fic where she's in love with him but is convinced he would never have feelings for her too as she's younger than him and shy and quiet but maybe all gets revealed (however you want to do that) 👉👈 super fluffy but put some angst in there too if you wish 🥰

AN | Okay, but I love this so much ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

People always seemed to call you shy.

And you were you supposed, in your own way. It had a lot of perks when you really thought about it, and one of the main benefits happened to be that people often seemed to leave you to your own devices.

You liked that you had the ability to watch and observe people without question. There was a lot that could be learned when people thought they weren’t being watched.

And one of your favorite people to study happened to be Joel Miller.

He was a quiet man and often kept to himself more than anything, but there was still a lot to be gleaned from him. He was resourceful and smart, kind and friendly but not in an overbearing way, and generally…the object of your affections. Not that you would ever admit that to anyone else. You’d never said those words out all loud - and never would. No, that was a secret you would take to the grave.

You were he probably already knew - you felt like a pathetic, rambling fool around him. He managed to erase every sensible thought in your head and the ability to form any coherent sentences. Instead you fumbled over your words, feeling warm and anxious…so you usually tried to avoid him as much as you. Sometimes it worked, but other times it seemed like he managed to find you or be in the same spot as you at every conceivable moment.

It sucked. You were sure that one day you’d accidentally spill the beans or somehow give away that fact you were desperately in love with him. As long as you managed to keep your guard up, you were sure that it would all be fine. All you had to do was avoid him for the rest of your life.

How hard could that be?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey,” that familiar gruff cut through your internal monologue as you gasped in surprise and almost dropped at the stuff in your arms. You turned around to him Joel watched you with a bemused expression on his face, “you alright? Didn’t mean to scare you, kid.”

Kid. You hated when he called you that. It made you feel like you were nothing in his eyes. Just a mere inconvenience. A kid that happened to be in his way.

“‘s alright,” you mumbled, righting the basket in your arms as you turned back to the vegetables and fruits you were tending to, “didn’t hear you is all.”

“Didn’t hear me,” he chuckled, the sound warm and familiar as it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy, “I don’t think I was being quiet in the slightest. Must have been awfully focused on whatever is going on in that pretty little head.”

You froze, eyes widening at his words, but continued to pick the fresh vegetables. You were so thankful that your back was to him as you tried to shrug him off. Otherwise he might have sensed just how flushed your face was and the lovesick expression on your face.

You. You, you, you.

"Nothing," you lied through gritted teeth, attempting in vain to slow down the beating of your heart and higher octave of your voice, "just thinking about what new things to plant once the season changes."

"And what did you decide?" Oh yeah. He was totally calling your bluff.

"About what?"

"The vegetables?"

"Oh…umm…cucumbers?"

"That's a summer vegetable," you cringed as he made a small sound of amusement. Did the man really have to know everything? You remained silent but could hear him shift, "last time I checked its almost winter."

"Well," you make quick work of gathering the rest of your veggies and placing them gently into the basket, "I guess I'll figure it out later."

You stood up and quickly turned on your heel to leave, rushing to get away and put this whole situation behind. You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist and gently hold you back. When you met his eyes, you noticed the little smile on his face, "everything alright?"

"Peachy," you lied as you gently pulled out of his grasp, "see you around, Joel."

"See you, Kid."

You hoped that maybe you'd never see him again and therefore avoid ever making a fool outside of yourself.

Unlikely.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“And just where do you think you’re going?” you almost jumped in surprise, a small sound of surprise escaping your lips before he clamped his hand over your mouth. He put a finger to his lips and shook his head. You relaxed slightly when you saw it was him. When he realized that you weren’t going to freak out he dropped his hand from your mouth.

“Joel!” you hissed at him, looking around to make sure no one had followed either of you, “what are you doing here?”

“The better question is what are you doing here?” he crossed his arms over his broad chest as he raised an eyebrow at you. You put an innocent smile on your face and shrugged, knowing you weren’t fooling him in the slightest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” oh. He was loving this way too much already.

“Telling? Wait - no, telling you,” you huffed, annoyed with yourself for how nervous you suddenly felt, “I’m just…here.”

“Here,” he repeated as you nodded, “it looks like you were trying to sneak out of the safety of the QZ.”

“Ummm…” realistically there was no other thing you could have been doing in that particular location. You were both acutely aware of the truth of the situation, “I’m just hanging out.”

“Come on, Kid,” he reached up and brushed a few rogue strands of hair behind your ear, “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you like to sneak out.”

“I don’t-”

“I don’t care that you do,” he dropped his voice to a whisper as you slowly swallowed thickly, “I care about the fact that it’s not safe.”

“You do it!”

“I can handle myself,” he insisted, putting his finger under your chin in order to turn your face up to his, “not that I don’t think you can. It’s different.”

“I don’t usually get into trouble,” you shrugged, “I just like getting out sometimes. It almost makes things feel normal sometimes.”

He regarded you for a few moments, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly. Your heart skipped a few beats as you wondered if he would yell at you or get you in some sort of trouble, “let’s go.”

“I’m - wait. What?” your eyes widened in surprise when he definitely said the opposite of what you had expected, “go home?”

“Let’s go out,” he reached for your hand and gently took it in his before he started to tug you along towards the way out. You were rooted in place, staring at him incredulously. He laughed, the soft sound made butterflies explode in your tummy, “what?”

“You mean it?” you whispered as the smile on his face grew, “Joel?”

“Let’s go out in the world and get away for a little bit,” he insisted softly. A small part of you was convinced that this was all fake and that he was going to get you in trouble. But the larger part of you knew that Joel would never do just a thing. And the tender look in his eyes solidified that for you, “what do you say?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a shy smile and fervent nod, “let’s go.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should tell him, you know,” Lizzy nudged your side with your elbow and despite the serious look you were attempting to keep on your face, you giggled lightly. You ignored her comment as you turned back your attention towards the sky, as you studied the big, fat fluffy clouds.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, trying to tune out the way she looked at you with a coquettish little smirk, “busy Lizzy, mind your own business!”

“You’re my best friend,” she reminded you, causing you to grumble at her, but it was all laced with affection, “I’m a part of your life and I’m just trying to get you in the right direction.”

“There is no right or wrong direction,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “there’s nothing there, Lizzy. I’m just a dumb kid with a big, fat crush and that’s all it’ll ever be. Can we drop it?”

“You’re so blind! It’s so obvious that he feels the same,” you loved Lizzy, and her tenacity was one of her amazing qualities. But right now it just felt so…overwhelming. You blinked back the tears that had threatened to well up and shook your head, “sweetheart-”

“Lizzy,” you put your hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze, “Joel doesn’t like me like that. I’m just a kid to him and that’s all I’ll ever be, and that’s okay. I’ll get over it…one day.”

“You’re so blind!” she was laughing, and despite the sound being so lovely and soft, your heart constricted in your chest. Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, you heard a loud throat clear from behind you. The two of you sat up in surprise, turning your attention towards the door to the roof.

Fuck. Of course. Of course Joel Miller had to choose the perfect time to make an appearance. Lizzy had a huge grin on her face as she jumped up from the blanket you’d been lying on you. You looked at her in desperation as she practically skipped over to Joel and past him, smiling sweetly at the older man.

In your anxious state you held up your hand in a meek little wave. Joel chuckled softly before making his way over to you. Without waiting for an invite, he sat down next to you, his thigh pressed against yours.

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” your entire body was warm and you almost wished that something would have popped up to create a distraction. Not like fully on clicker distraction, but something. You keep your gaze trained anywhere but him as embarrassment washed over you.

“I did,” he admitted as you groaned internally. You could practically feel his pretty brown eyes focused on, but you weren’t ready to die of humiliation just yet.

“Of course,” you nodded in annoyance, at yourself more than anything. You groaned before letting out a small huff. You finally managed to turn your face towards him and to your surprise, he didn’t look mad or angry, “I’m umm…sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” it was a genuine question that caused you to shrug noncommittally, “the fact that I found out or for the feelings themself?”

“Both, I guess,” maybe the ground could open up and swallow you whole. That might be a nice change of pace, “m-mostly the fact that you found out.”

“So you’re not sorry for the feelings?”

“Can’t really help your feelings, can you?”

“No,” he agreed, shooting a curious little look, “I guess you can’t.”

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward,” you whispered, “I try to stay away from you, but I swear you always seem to pop up out of nowhere. It always feels like the universe is laughing at me.”

“Almost like it wasn’t a coincidence at all…”

“I guess you’re….wait,” you turned your attention to him, allowing yourself to look at the man in question, “not a coincidence? What do you mean?”

“You’re a smart girl,” he praised and oh. If you didn’t enjoy being praised before, you sure did now, “you can put two and two together.”

“I….Joel-”

“Lizzy wasn’t as far off as you think she was,” he stated it so simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your mouth dropped open as you stared at him, waiting for him to drop the just kidding bomb. He put his finger under your chin and gently closed your mouth, “is it really that hard to believe?”

“N-no,” you admitted softly, “I guess not. Just…are you sure? Me? Why…I don’t get it. Why me?”

“Don’t do that,” he insisted firmly, “the self doubt - there’s no reason for it.”

“I’m just…me.”

“Exactly,” he answered, leaving no room for any sort of back-talk, “you’re not just some kid or just a nobody. Not to me.”

“But I…I-”

He rested his hand on your neck, his thumb gently brushing along your soft skin, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Oh. Oh,” your eyes widened for a moment before you felt the soft press of his lips against yours. It wasn’t much of a kiss, more of a soft brushing of lips, both of you testing the waters. When he pulled back, you found him watching you with a soft expression on his face, “that was…you kissed me.”

“I did,” he echoed his words from earlier, “and I’d like to do it again if you’re okay with it.”

“Yes,” you smiled shyly at him, “I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” and he was kissing you again, like the two of you had been doing this for a long time, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Maybe you weren’t just some dumb kid after all.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

Text

I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC In An Otome Game But A Capture Target Won’t Leave Me Alone (Yandere!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

a/n: fasghadsa this is my thank-you fic for @poptartsthings for supporting my fics for the past year!!! thank you for the tips huhuhuhu ;;;—;;; hence, I wrote this diluc fic for *clears throat* "mommy milkers". Enjoy this self-aware yandere otome game!duke diluc ragnvindr!!!

unreliable synopsis: what if you got isekai-d in your favorite otome game and one of the Love Interests found out they aren’t a real person? (or, ya know, whatever the title said lmao)

"Bottoms up, Duke Ragnvindr!"

"No matter how enthusiastic you are, I remain inclined to think that this is a horrible idea, (Y/n)..."

Reluctantly swirling a small amount of fire-water while wearing gloves, the duke saw how the alcohol hardly made a wave. Unsatisfied, he diverted his attention and observed the NPC pour their drink.

"In all honesty, your grape juice is worth more than this, (Y/n)–"

"Shush!" With a flamboyant and dismissive wave, the generic common mob silenced one of the Main Characters. "Don't ruin the mood, now. I had to pull a few strings to get this bad boy right here. It’s such a shame that Mister “Best Boy” Albedo can't come, so we have to make sure I get my money’s worth off of these bottles. It’d be such a waste of francs."

"Wasted like the thousand francs wine you clumsily spilled last year?"

"Don't bring that up again, please."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"If I hadn't, I would've been drinking with Villager B..." They muttered as they grabbed another glass from the cupboard.

He pretended not to have heard it.

They are both aware that their destinies follow different paths. No matter how hard one of them tries to walk next to the other, this cruel fate will separate them with a penalty that is even more agonizing than the last. All because (Y/n) was a real person, and Diluc was not.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr is this game’s easiest route: the typical childhood friend who falls for the heroine– Princess Lumine– first. In this genre, he falls into the category of those love interests who are incredibly austere with themselves that they were unable to enjoy the small things in life outside work. Ultimately, he follows the cliche of protecting the heroine from harm until she remembers that they used to play together as children in the palace gardens. Which, in itself, is quite a feat since the duke was not a man many could befriend. Unless you count Chief Justice Ajax as his greatest comrade, then perhaps he could finally add item number 11 to his list of trusted people.

The “Duke of the South” only favored audiences for those he was willing to invest in— after all, he’s famously known for having a “good signature.” It may seem like a compliment for uneducated nouveau rich men, but those with an eye for Gaciean politics knew how much power he has as the head of the Department of Military Affairs. Tales about his on-and-off disputes with the Chief Ajax circled as frequently as Teyvat Time’s popular Paimon-The-Friendly-Fae’s comic strips. Some loved his obsession with national security whilst some were quick to call him a pampered weapon hoarder, but if there’s one thing everyone can agree it’s that they fear the southern duke.

Now, after introducing a political figure with crimson locks of hair and domineering combat prowess, it’s certainly a tough sell to introduce the last person left inside: (Y/n) (L/n).

Unremarkably, they’re merely an NPC from Xiangling’s Seaside Restaurant. They’ve “reincarnated” into this world fumbling about like a newborn until the chef offered a job. Fortunately, they were not completely helpless in the kitchen. They had shown off their managerial skills from their old job since day one. Since then, Xiangling had hoped to train them as the new manager, but (Y/n) preferred to take on some responsibilities gradually. After a few days had passed, they abruptly realized that they were "Server C," an NPC with only a character sprite and a scarcely distinguishable name. The red ribbon-theme outfit from their restaurant was the only thing that distinguished them from the other faceless workers. According to what they can recall, one of their tasks is to give the princess's order of candies while she flees from her overprotective retainer, Dainsleif. It was a tense moment in that common route since all three of the princess’ potential suitors were customers from different ends of the restaurant, which were Dainsleif, Kamisato Ayato, and, of course, Duke Ragnvindr.

… Unable to snap out of their initial shock after recognizing that this was one of the game’s CGs and seeing three attractive men inside the restaurant they work at, (Y/n) accidentally broke the script by spilling the wine on Duke Ragnvindr’s coat.

Since then, (Y/n) had trailed and followed the characters whenever they could for their amusement– often helping their favorite love interest, Albedo, set up the scene so they can view his "CGs" in real life. Due to their apparent lack of stalking skills, they had another off-script encounter with the duke whilst doing so. Instead of heading straight to North Gaciea as he had done in the game, he was delayed seven hours after he weeded (Y/n)’s hair out of the bushes they were hiding in. Their first meeting was horrid, and their second almost went in a similar direction. Almost.

Since (Y/n)’s lies were as visible as their head peeking out of their hiding spot, Diluc had them drink a truth potion to uncover why they were stalking the chief alchemist, however…

… Does the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction” apply in this case when both the earth and the sky are nothing but lies?

Diluc put on a convincing poker face when they babbled about the game they live in, demonstrating both their objectives and, more critically, their in-game omniscience. Albedo is the only love interest who changes into a feral (and subjectively "hot") monster toward the end of the novel, thus (Y/n) was adamant that he be Princess Lumine's ultimate endgame—but going any further in their explanations would be deemed a "spoiler." Additionally, Albedo’s route could only be unlocked once you finished another character’s route first… and that character happened to be Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

———

“In layman’s terms… We are living in a complex romance novel-esque system, correct? And I am the ‘book’ people often recommend to start the series with first before moving on to the sequel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“… and I am just a stepping stone for a happier ending? A pawn? A mere puppet for someone chasing a momentary cure for loneliness?”

“Well, it felt real to me when I played your route—”

“Perhaps, but feelings do not change what is real and what isn’t.” Diluc sighed, unsheathing his dagger to break off the ropes that held the server down.

(Y/n) traced their wrists, appreciating now how gentle he had been when he could’ve gone rougher.

“Diluc…”

He bit his lip. It pained him to hear the server call his name as if they knew him.

They spoke as if they were friends the whole time right after they just revealed that his life is a self-fulfilled prophecy of unrequited romance.

And it was insulting.

———

The two have come a long way since then. He lost his faux feelings for Lumine. After gaining self-awareness, Diluc had begun avoiding what occurs in the game’s plot under the NPC’s guidance. To improve Lumine's chances of acquiring Albedo's route, (Y/n) was more than happy to assist him, so they started exchanging chats that ranged from oblique threats to routine discussions only friends could have.

Even so, (Y/n)’s attempts were futile when Albedo revealed to both of them that he knew he’s also just a character since the day he was “created”, and that “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped attempting to produce an inorganic chemistry between the protagonist and me.”

…The chief alchemist was a smart one for sure and his confrontation had sobered (Y/n) fully. Although Albedo will never be the princess’ endgame nor will he turn into an apocalyptic dragon, (Y/n) had earned his friendship and started treating the rest of the cast as people and not just characters.

Diluc gazed out the window.

It was late into the night and rain was falling. There was not a single domestic sound emanating from nearby homes, which was a wise choice since annoying harpies would have gathered at the sound of human noises. Birds accosted the drying trees and roofs as fog swept through the streets. With the exception of this seaside restaurant, most stores were noticeably closed. The downpour buried the sound of crashing waves just a few meters outside, so no one would have known that this was close to the beach.

"Huh," (Y/n) stared in the same direction. "Didn’t expect it to rain tonight. Guess you can't escape this cheap alcohol-tasting session, huh?"

In the course of his outdoor nightly training, the head of the Department of Military Affairs grew incredibly resilient against mere storms. "I don’t need an umbrella."

"Fair," they laughed, distinctly human compared to the usual polite chuckles he would hear from leeching nobles. "But oh, dear Duke, if you don't need an umbrella then why are you still here? Is it because you wanted to see me– w-wait hold on—I'm kidding— sit down!"

…

They reached for his arm, but try as they might—

their hand only passed through.

The two stiffened.

Diluc’s breath hitched.

That was proof.

Because of this scripted fate, a commoner like them can't even grasp his hand, let alone touch it. Not when the system outright denies the friendship they have.

An NPC like (Y/n) can’t remain friends with a main character like Diluc once they have fulfilled their role in their story.

Diluc was untouchable.

He closed his eyes. Just acknowledging this pains him.

They both sat back down.

Much like how Diluc had pretended not to hear their comment earlier, (Y/n) also pretended that nothing unreal occurred seconds ago.

"S... So, is there anything else you want with that?" They pointed at his glass. "We have a crap ton of limes and cranberry juice! Oh, but I'm not sure if it would taste that good if we mix it, haha."

He could practically hear them force that laughter right out of their throat. Diluc hurriedly swallowed the fire-water they offered him since neither could stand the awkward tension. Diluc cringed.

"Oh, sorry, was it too strong?" Many nobles who detained the duke with platitudes were met with sarcastic comments, but he never hated (Y/n)’s idea of small talk.

"It's fine." He spoke huskily.

"Does it need lime or any add ons–"

"It's fine."

"... Okay."

The silence was painfully awkward... Perhaps Diluc shouldn't have threatened Albedo to sit this one out. He wanted an opportunity to be alone with (Y/n), and this is far from what he had hoped would turn out. Diluc's forehead creased as he held back what could've been a long somber sigh.

"How's work?" He asked.

"Oh, it's been alright."

That doesn't sound promising. This was a trick up his sleeves to snap them back to a cheery mood. Usually, they’d start rambling about their regulars and watch how endearingly entertaining they are. There should’ve been a quip about Itto’s TCG losing streak or how Kunikuzushi and Kazuha were arguing again over where they should place their tent for their next travels. This time, (Y/n) barely uttered a phrase.

They continued, "I don't suppose I could ask you the same, given that most of your work is confidential–"

"The Holy Kingdom’s crown prince visited North Gaciea today."

"Oh?"

Finally, he could see them smile for just a bit. Of course, they’d be interested to hear about Zhongli since he was the poster boy for the game’s sequel. Fortunately for Diluc, (Y/n) never got to play the game.

"That's wonderful! I was waiting for an English Localization of the sequel for soooo long! Was he hot? I bet he’s gorgeous as fu–"

"No."

"No...?"

"I mean." Diluc cleared his throat. It's barely even a shot of fire-water and he's already getting impulsive. "I meant that I cannot discuss the matter further. I am not like Kaeya. This is confidential, like what you had said."

"Ah..." Their eyebrows furrowed "I see…"

Why did they sound so disappointed?

Is (Y/n)… bored of him?

Diluc digressed, "how's Dainsleif?"

"Dain?" Their nose scrunched. "I haven't seen that poor guy for weeks now. He’s probably escorting Princess Lumine to Justice Ajax’s territory like in the game. Why?"

"Kamisato Ayato?"

"Ah, he ordered a crate of Dango milk yesterday," they laughed softly. "I'm amazed at how that man is barely affected by the script. I mean, I guess that’s to be expected when your route can only be unlocked by choosing three unsuspecting dialogue options. I don't think he talked to the protagonist at all these past two years. You’d think Lumine would’ve raised her wits stat high enough to attract his attention, but alas, Lord Ayato’s still lounging around East Gaciea doing Venti-knows-what."

He wasn’t paying attention to their ramblings. All their names sound bitter in Diluc's mouth. Unlike Albedo and Diluc, the rest of the Love Interests are free to interact with them as an extra. Server C had also performed their last scripted interaction with them, hence, (Y/n) can never touch Albedo and Diluc again.

Retainer Dainsleif of the West, Lord Kamisato Ayato of the East, Chief Justice “Childe” Ajax of the North, Chief Alchemist Albedo of Who-Knows-Where, and Duke Diluc Ragnvindr of the South… Princess Lumine certainly had fine options.

The Duke just wished the otome game scriptwriters would’ve let him have his own choice in the matter as well.

(Y/n) rested their elbows down on the table as they gazed into Diluc's distant eyes.

"Why did you ask?"

Diluc frowned, He admits it— (Y/n)’s eyes are nothing to write home about. When compared to an ephemeral beauty like Princess Lumine, their ordinary (e/c) eyes and visage hardly qualify as "distinctive traits." Their vibrant red ribbon is the only thing separating them from the street's grey residents. Yet he can still tell it's them no matter how big the crowd is. No matter how much they look like an “NPC”, to him at least it was a face worth seeing. Even if they mesh into a blob of slime, he can sense their essence through and through.

Although he can now barely make out the features on their face, nothing on this false earth can convince him that he wasn’t talking to the love of his life.

"I..." Diluc loosened his collar, suddenly growing hot at the intensity of their stare. "I simply wished to learn how the two other Love Interests are doing. I’ve had a chat with Ajax, and he still acts like a quote-on-quote “yandere” as you had explained before."

“Is that all?”

Diluc nodded.

"Ah," They shrugged. "Got my hopes up there– I thought there are other “Wasureta: No More” CGs I haven't seen yet."

Diluc smiled and took a drink.

"Ahh..." He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut in the process.

"You okay there pal?" They asked. "I know I said we shouldn't let any of this go to waste but you know I can just store them back home right? Oh, you can have some too but I don't think you'd like so–"

"I'll take a bottle."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened.

"Y-You..." They stuttered, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Diluc mumbled, lying to himself. "It tastes okay."

They grinned. The sight makes his decision all the more worth it.

"Haha, great!" They fist-bumped the air "See? Told ya cheap fire-water tastes good!"

Don’t get him wrong, he's not taking one home because of its taste. He's taking one home because it might be the last memento he'll have of (Y/n).

"Hold on, let me get a ribbon." They opened their palms to stop him from leaving. "Can't give the great Duke of the South something that looks barely presentable now would I?"

They left him with a skip in their steps. Diluc smiled.

Now that he's left alone, he silently wondered:

Just how long can he last before he tells the NPC that he wants to ruin their friendship?

———

Along with the sounds of gutted flesh reverberating through the tunnel's dark passageways, a man's hysterical laughter echoed. It was mostly silence in the caves, and there is a strong sense of loneliness upon entering the vicinity. Humans and animals alike would feel as though there is no life inside those walls, but the joyous yet hollow laughter came from the end of the tunnel.

And on the other side, you'll find a red-haired man at his wit's end.

"Tell me..." His words dragged out in a low growl as he grabbed a fistful of the bloody and tattered blonde's greasy hair. The man whimpered from his touch. "Was it fun? Laughing at my misery this entire time? Were you laughing along with them? Lumine, Dainsleif, and all the rest?! Did I put up quite the show there?!"

Crown Prince Aether trembled.

Duke Ragnvindr had everything figured out.

———

“There’s one regret I have now that I’ve isekai-d in this game.”

“What was it?”

“It’s just that,” (Y/n) sighed. “I never really got this game to a 100% completion.”

Diluc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by their obsession with Wasureta, “and why is that important?”

“Hey! It’s pretty damn important!” (Y/n) grumbled. "Tsk, if only I finished your bad endings… The guides say once you do that, you’ll be able to unlock a secret route.”

“A secret route?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

“I’ve read some spoilers from Otomekitten's blog and get this— the last route reveals where Lumine’s brother had been hiding all this time.”

———

The nerves on the back of Diluc's palms were more noticeable as he pulled the poor man closer. Simply put, their faces did not resemble what mankind should look like; rather, they were an animalistic representation of a predator and prey. Hitherto it had disturbed Prince Aether in his rests, but it was too late when he finally acknowledged that something unhinged lay dormant inside the duke.

"P-please..." He coughed. Blood started drooling down the edge of his lips. He assumes that a few of his teeth are likely knocked in, and he can feel his canines prodding inside his throat. "H-have merc–"

With alarming ease, Diluc threw him in the direction of the shelves. The blonde fell and gasped violently when the splintered wood struck his shoulder. The gaping wound on his hips gushed out once more, bleeding onto his carpet and scattered notes. The duke was a monster. He intentionally missed striking his vital organs to prolong his suffering. More blood gushed from his mouth and the prince noisily wheezed out wet coughs.

His Highness has (Y/n) to blame for the hints they gave the duke.

If they hadn't had that conversation, Diluc wouldn’t have figured out that Aether created this “game” world out of grief for his dead sister.

———

“I’ve been alive here for a year or so but I can’t get used to how the harpies in this world look so tame.”

“Hmm? What else were you expecting?”

“Nothing much, it’s just that they look so different in the game’s beta.”

They shrugged. “Fun fact: did you know that “Wasureta: No More” was a fantasy-horror game before the scriptwriters decided to rewrite everything?”

———

"Tsk." Diluc spat and wiped his mouth with his last dirty palm as if there was a major difference. Both are equally soiled with oil and Aether’s blood; it wouldn’t have mattered.

The duke snarled aloud into a burst of savage laughter, "what's wrong, My Creator? Can't even muster up the courage to face your retribution?"

"F-Friend..." Aether called out, hoping to garner sympathy for the Diluc who once looked after both him and his sister at the royal gardens. Hoping to remind him that he was placed number 1 on the list of people the head of Military Affairs had trusted.

"Don't call me that," Diluc's grip on his claymore grew tighter until his knuckles paled.

"Du-Duke..." The blonde looked up. "I can't just... Rewrite this story again..."

"You can," Diluc spoke in a somewhat broken voice. His sanity may be waning, but he cannot deny that Aether was included in the list of the people the duke trusted. "We’re just characters you’ve written. You've done that before. You've done that to Lumine."

"And I r-regretted it!" He sputtered out, accidentally stronger than intended. The blonde scurried to lean against the wall as he feared Diluc would attack him for his offensive tone. "I regretted it. I thought I could revive my sister... I thought that would bring Lumine back into this new world. I thought it would bring her happiness if– if I gave her m-more options–"

"Forced options," Diluc grumbled, rightfully angry at the blonde's interferences. Based on his inference, three of the five suitors wouldn't have been whisked away by Lumine's whims if it weren't for her brother’s influence. And judging by his pained reaction, Diluc would be right.

"But she’s not my real sister.” Aether sobbed. “She never will be— she’s just an image I had of her. And I-I still ended up making this false Lumine more miserable."

"No shit." Diluc snickered with narrow eyes. "You made her miserable—"

The duke just wished he knew where Aether was from the very beginning. He would've had Prince Aether's head before this whole damn game even started.

"And you made me so fucking miserable, Crown Prince," Diluc muttered.

“I just wanted to be with (Y/n).” He breathed in shakily, “is that so much to ask for?”

"P-Please, listen to me." Aether wept. "Ch-Changing someone's fate brings more harm than good!"

THUD.

Aether shook as a claymore thrust through the concrete just a hair beside his ear. He gulped under the towering gaze of those piercing red eyes. They glowered over him, and they were far from pleased. Aether was too terrified to look away as he saw how Diluc's eyes spiraled into the abyss. The air was thick with heat emanating from Diluc’s pyro-abilities. The sound of the metal rang in the prince’s ears like a warning, thus, the strength in his shoulders weakened and his muscles have gone mushed as he cowered down.

Changing fate brings more harm than good? What a joke. By the looks of it, letting fate run its course only puts the prince in greater turmoil.

Maybe Diluc should offer his head to Her Highness. It doesn't matter whether he lived or died, does it not? If she's so desperate to find the missing prince again, it wouldn't even matter what state his casket is in.

"Di–"

Aether couldn’t breathe.

"Don't struggle."

Diluc effortlessly slid the prince's entire body up the wall after grabbing his throat. Aether's feet curled up as he struggled to steal a breath. He tried to kick and claw Diluc's arms away, but the man stood his ground. Ruby eyes continued to pursue him with an icy rage that Aether was all too familiar with.

The fact that they both placed a lot of faith in one another was a mistake.

Aether's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Diluc spoke those words as if they weren't threatening remarks, but a merciful command. Yet it doesn't change the fact that he intended to assassinate the prince with his bare hands. Aether began balling up his fists and striking him, but it was ineffective.

"..."

Diluc coldly watched his stomach bleed out like a student dissecting a frog.

Aether's vision clouded. As he flailed his limbs like a wild animal, dark blotches started to appear in his line of sight. His fingers are unwittingly clawing at everything as the adrenaline starts to kick in. Aether never wished to harm a soul, but at that moment he was aiming for Diluc's eyes.

His survival instincts kicked in.

He can't die.

Not like this.

"Si–..."

Lumine. Sister.

Aether needed to apologize to his sister.

He still hoped to say sorry— sorry for leaving her to run a kingdom alone— sorry for not being able to save her in the original timeline—

sorry for resetting and rewriting the game just to see her alive and happy again.

Aether had so much unfinished business piled up. So many discoveries he has yet to pen down. He can't die here. He mustn’t.

He grabbed something. A fleeting crimson near his assailant's collarbone.

Was it Diluc's hair?

He pulled harder. All his strength was wasted on that sliver of red hope. Anything that would get his assailant to stop.

And Diluc did. His grip on Aether's throat loosened as the prince fell back on the floor. Aether wheezed, his vision slowly returning to him. His bated breathing echoed inside the room as his eyesight returned to him. When the prince's eyes finally focused sharply, he saw silk.

This wasn't Diluc's hair, it was–

"(Y/n)’s ribbon."

Diluc used the very same ribbon (Y/n) to decorate a bottle of fire-water with to tie up his hair.

Aether shivered.

"It seems like you wanted to choose your death."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aether looked up. He shouldn't have looked up.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr's face was red with a grin uncannily reaching his ears to a degree that shouldn't be possible. His expression was akin to a lovesick young adult twisted to its extremities. He appeared to look excited. To think that he burns up by just a mention of this person’s name makes Aether sick to his stomach.

"Allow me to heed your last wish, Your Highness."

The prince felt his whole body tense up as Diluc wrapped the ribbon around his neck.

Diluc did not give him any more room to breathe as if his body was moving automatically.

This wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore.

His eyes were empty.

This was a man possessed.

"Ch...de..." Aether forced out his last words as the ribbon quickly wrung around him.

"S..ve... my... s....ter"

———

Diluc only pulled out of his trance after he started washing the blood off his hands. Elzer subsequently informed him that the duke had entered the manor bloodied and unkempt with no recollection of how he got there and that he had strolled carelessly to the restroom like a corpse. There was a commotion across the entire Ragnvindr manor and rumors that he had lost an unpleasant duel quickly circulated. Better that than the truth, he supposed. Even his memory of what transpired in Aether's basement is hazy. Diluc only had their red ribbon and the idea of winning in his mind. He refused to let things continue as they are.

It wasn't until he started drying himself with a towel that he realized that the crown prince perished by his hands.

To think that Diluc used to be so terrified of offending royalties– of accidentally slipping a lese-majeste out of his lips– but now he let a royal's soul slip out of his wrists.

It's invigorating.

Diluc not only tied his fate with theirs, but he successfully managed to cut their ties with those disgusting vermin they call their “regulars.” They can't have them anymore, and they won't even intend to reach out. No one remembers who Server C is. They are now alone together with him. He’s the only person they can depend on. Diluc's breathing heaved lower. Just thinking about their inevitable dependence excites him.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Server C." He smiled. "Or, should I say, my beloved?"

Just the two of them.

They won't look at anyone else. They can't. The whole world will now feel what he felt when he was unable to touch (Y/n). Only HE has the privilege to hold them now.

It's just the two of them in this world left. After all, there is no statute of limitations once you learn how to play Creator.

Diluc Ragnvindr had successfully rewritten this game’s script.

He no longer carries any in-game responsibilities, much like how there is no Lord Kamisato, Justice Ajax, Retainer Dainsleif, and Chief Albedo that exists in this “script.rpy” file.

It’s just him and his beloved server, alone.

Diluc wiped his mouth. He's practically dro– no, his mouth is literally watering at the thought. Diluc's heart is pounding, almost threatening to break free from his ribs.

"I’m all you have now, (Y/n)." Diluc's gaze softens. "Isn't that wonderful?"

His hands reluctantly traveled under their blanket where their hands should be, scared that when he reaches out, he'll feel nothing there.

He felt their warmth.

Diluc grinned tearfully. He can finally touch them again. He felt their fingers crossed miraculously against his own.

"You’re so warm..."

He gently rubbed their calloused hand against his cheek.

No matter how overworked or ragged these hands were from washing the dishes, for him, they were silk to touch. So soft. So vulnerable.

Diluc swallowed his saliva with great difficulty. God. They’re so vulnerable right now. So peaceful. So fragile. His breathing increased in volume. He could just take them right here–

His bottom lip started to bleed. He was doing everything in his power not to cave in but his throat was starting to get parched. He breathed in deeply.

Not now. Please, not right now. Not when they probably don’t remember who he is.

Diluc wanted to see the look on their face as he finally kisses them. What expressions will they make? It's not fair to both of them to steal such a moment when they’re asleep. That's not what he had been waiting for. Not what he's been craving.

"My beloved, you're a beauty from afar, but you're even more flawless in my arms," Diluc muttered over their ear.

"And I'll do everything in my power to let it stay that way. Fate and the entire world be damned."

-----------

A/n: want to read more of this in a visual novel form? It's here :)

Edit: HERE'S THS IMPROVED SPRITES AND OVERALL UPDATED GAME!!!

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