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celestie0 · 1 month

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M��︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ you're all caught up!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

Text

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktov. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Violence, Aggression, Blood, Slapping, Slight Masochism, Sexual Aggression, WeaponizingEnzoBerkshire(im sorry?), Fingering, DARK THEMES.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Rowena, render me resilient." You huffed, mumbling to yourself while pulling your infuriated corpse out of the creaky wooden chair in the empty potions classroom. "I'm going to fucking kill that boy."

Mattheo was thirty minutes late. Thirty. Three. Zero.

At first, you dismissed his tardiness, convincing yourself it was just another instance of his habitual delay--and in those initial ten minutes, you buried yourself in your homework, trying to maintain an air of indifference. But as the clock ticked away, another ten minutes, then another five, your patience wore thin, your nerves splintering with palpable annoyance. From that point on, each passing second seemed to echo with the ghost of his absence, amplifying your frustration.

The room seemed to close in on you as you stared at the clock, wondering why he would brush you off so callously when he damn-well knew he was the only fucking reason you were there, in that classroom, in the bloody first place.

The single-minded focus on confronting Mattheo propelled you forward, urging you to swing open the creaky wooden door with a determined force. As you stepped into the eerie, freezing corridor of the dungeons, your resolve transformed into a palpable energy, driving you forward with every purposeful stride. The anticipation of the impending confrontation overshadowed any trepidation, making you oblivious to the typical nerves that might have accompanied a situation like this.

As you approached the Slytherin common room, the distant thumping of loud music permeated the heavy door, sending vibrations through the floor beneath your feet. Despite the unfamiliar territory and the intimidating reputation of the Slytherin's domain--which was often veiled in a haze of marijuana smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol--your anger acted as a shield, eclipsing any reservations or second thoughts.

Your frustration boiled over as you banged on the door with a force that reverberated through the wood, echoing your impatience. With each pounding knock, a faint haze of smoke seeped out from the cracks around the door, a telltale sign of the revelry inside--it felt like centuries had past before the door swung open, a thick cloud of smoke billowing out from the bustling common room; and before you could react, a Slytherin student you didn't recognize--tall and imposing, grabbed your arm and yanked you inside, pulling you close to him.

He pressed you against the door as he slammed it shut behind you, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your appearance from head to toe, clearly suspicious of your presence inside his domain.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice sharp and laced with suspicion. The scent of alcohol mingled with the smoke, adding an acrid edge to the atmosphere as he scrutinized you, waiting for an explanation. "You're out of your bloody depth little Ravenclaw...some nerve-"

You stammered, hardly able to catch your words. "I-I'm Mattheo's tutor...he didn't show up to-"

"Mattheo's tutor, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as he cut you off. "Well, good luck trying to drag him out of this madness on a Friday night. Once he's in, he's in deep, and nobody can rescue him, especially not a helpless little Ravenclaw like you."

His grip on your arm tightened, emphasizing his point, the pressure sending a jolt of pain through your body. Your stomach twisted as you watched his lips curl into a cruel smirk, his blue eyes glinting with sadistic amusement.

"You're better off running along before you get sucked into our world. We Slytherins don't play nice, especially when it comes to parties."

With that, he shoved you away from the door, dismissing you with an irritated flick of his hand, leaving you standing there, caught between frustration and helplessness, engulfed in the suffocating haze of smoke and the pounding rhythm of the music as you attempted to gather yourself. Admittedly, the smell was getting to your head, you pulse pounding in your temples and matching the base of the music. You shot your gaze around the room, in search of any sort of sign that Mattheo was around--but you didn't get very far before you felt movement behind you.

Your heart raced as you spun around, finding yourself surrounded by practically all the boys from the infamous Slytherin Quidditch team, their cold gazes assessing you with a mix of curiosity and arrogance. Draco Malfoy, the groups undeniable leader, sneered at you, his blond hair perfectly styled despite the chaotic atmosphere of the room.

"Well, well, look what we have here, boys," Draco drawled, his tone dripping with superiority. "A lost little Ravenclaw wandering into our house. Did you take a wrong turn on your way to the library, sweetheart?"

You swallowed, your eyes shooting around at each of the men as they circled around you, Theodore Nott and Regulus Black shared a knowing glance, exchanging silent communication that made your skin crawl. Blaise Zabini, the schools best known charmer, stepped closer, his smug smile sending chills down your spine.

"Or perhaps you're here to join the party?" he suggested, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin prickle with discomfort. Lorenzo Berkshire, the powerhouse of the team, folded his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable as he observed you. The room seemed to close in around you, the haze of smoke thickening as their presence suffocated the air.

With every instinct screaming at you to escape, you tried to muster courage. "I-I'm just looking for Mattheo," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pulsating music. "I'm his tutor, and he was supposed to meet me for a study session...I came to find him."

Theodore smirked, tilting his head as he scrutinized you with a calculating gaze. "I don't recall Mattheo mentioning anything about a tutor," he said, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "Are you sure you're in the right place, Bella?"

"Or, perhaps you're here for something other than tutoring?" Lorenzo said, his voice like a low growl--your nerves multiplying as he took a deliberate step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "You should know that little birds who dare to venture into the snake's den rarely ever make it out alive..."

Lorenzo's words stirred something inside your chest, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight you thought for sure your intestines were about to explode. The boys, their eyes gleaming with a sinister intent, moved forward with calculated steps, their chuckles weaving through the air like unsettling whispers. They encircled you, a menacing dance of predators closing in on their prey-the glint in their eyes mirroring the sharpness of fangs as they closed the gap, enveloping you in a suffocating sense of dread.

You couldn't help but to be acutely aware of the irony of the situation, you were the helpless little bird ensnared in the midst of hungry snakes--desperate for rescue that you knew would never come--internally freaking the fuck out until you steeled your shoulders, gathering every single last ounce of your courage to meet Enzo's burning gaze head on--a glint of defiance twinkling behind your eyes.

"Little bird, Berkshire?" you taunted, your voice ringing through the room as you took a bold step toward him, your head held high to meet his eyes. "Last time I checked, the Ravenclaw emblem was an Eagle…unless it’s changed without my knowledge…" you continued, your gaze unwavering, watching his jaw clench with irritation. "Do you know what eagles are capable of, Berkshire? Or is that information too elevated for your limited intelligence?"

Lorenzo's lips curled into a contemptuous smile. "Save your Ravenclaw wit for your textbooks, little bird," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "In our den, you're just prey, no matter what emblem you wear."

The boys around you chuckled darkly, their laughter echoing through the room like the hiss of snakes, only fuelling your urge to defend yourself further. Lorenzo took another step forward and you straightened your shoulders.

"Your attempts to wield venom through words mirror your feeble Quidditch endeavors…always falling short of the impact you intend," you sneered, your confidence cutting through the tension. "Perhaps it's time to reevaluate your definition of prey, considering the ones who underestimate tend to fall the hardest."

Lorenzo's nostrils flared, his face turning crimson with rage. "You got quite the mouth on you, little fucking brat," he spat, his voice sharp as a dagger, hand reaching up to grip your jaw, pulling you tight against him--the scent of alcohol flooding your nostrils as his free hand gripped your hip, your mouth parting in complete, paralyzing shock. "You want to fucking say that again, huh?"

The boys surrounding the two of you exchanged uneasy glances, their initial amusement morphing into concern as they realized just how far he was willing to take things. A few of them took cautious steps back, their confidence waning in the face of Lorenzo's escalating rage.

Your voice wavered, a mixture of fear and defiance. "Let go of me."

"Not so tough now, are you?" He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. "You're bloody pathe-"

Lorenzo's malicious words hung in the air, pregnant with menace, but they were abruptly silenced by a deep, furious rumble that reverberated through the room.

"Berkshire," you recognized that voice. You’d never, ever not recognize that fucking voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The resonance of his voice was like a rolling thunder, each syllable echoing off the stone walls and sending tangible shivers down your spine. The very atmosphere seemed to quiver in response, and you could almost feel the raw power of his anger vibrating in the air, setting the entire room on edge. Enzo's eyes widened in alarm, his confident facade crumbling like fragile parchment in the face of Mattheo's wrath.

Slowly turning, Enzo locked eyes with the approaching Riddle, whose gaze blazed with an unyielding fire, and without giving him a chance to react, Mattheo surged forward, his movements swift and deadly. His fist, wrapped in a tempest of rage, found its target in Enzo's jaw with a resounding impact.

The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the room, Enzo's head snapping violently to the side, a spray of crimson erupting from the corner of his lip, painting the air with the evidence of Mattheo's strength--and the room stood still for a moment, suspended in a heartbeat of sheer shock as Enzo stumbled backward, his once-defiant demeanor now entirely shattered.

In the wake of Mattheo's ferocity, the room remained suspended in a tense silence, like a captured breath waiting to be released, the echo of the impact still ringing in your ears. Enzo, once the epitome of arrogance and aggression, now stood stunned, his hand clutching his injured jaw as he struggled to regain his balance. The other boys, previously reveling in their sadistic taunts, stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief at the sudden turn of events.

Mattheo, his chest heaving with restrained fury, stepped forward, his gaze locked onto Enzo.

"Touch her again," he growled, his voice low and menacing, "and I'll make sure you regret every last moment you spend at this fucking school."

Enzo, now visibly shaken, nodded weakly, a mix of fear and humiliation clouding his eyes. Without another word, Mattheo turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentler now, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had just erupted in the room. "Did he hurt you?"

Your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions, struggling to process the chaotic events that had just unfolded. Numbly, you shook your head, your hand instinctively reaching up to rub your jaw, still tingling from the force of Enzo's grip.

"No," you said, not daring to meet his eyes. "I'm fine."

With a nod, Mattheo turned, his eyes boring into the remaining onlookers, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "Enough gawking. Move along," he ordered, his tone laced with steel. "This isn't a show for your fucking amusement."

The intensity in his words sent the spectators scrambling like startled crows, leaving you and Mattheo in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air as he peered down at you with dark eyes.

"You came looking for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible above the fading echoes of the room. "Thought you'd appreciate a night off from my bullshit."

Your chest seized as you eyed his face--the cut across his nose from yesterday still faintly bleeding, swatches of blood still decorating his jawline and cheekbones--you couldn't deny that this boy was a bloody mess. A cunning, arrogant, complicated fucking mess--but Gods, was he fucking attractive.

"I don't appreciate being blown off without notice, Riddle..." you huffed, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Not that you could ever relate."

“You’re right, I can’t..I usually get some notice before being blown.” With a slight smirk, he gripped your wrist, meeting your eyes. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Mattheo's hold on your wrist was firm yet oddly reassuring as he guided you through the chaotic Slytherin common room. The room was a cacophony of laughter, music, and rowdy students, but his presence seemed to part the crowd effortlessly, creating a path for the two of you with ease. The air outside the common room was a welcome relief, free from the suffocating haze of smoke and the overwhelming scent of alcohol. Mattheo didn't release your wrist, his touch lingering, and you found yourself following his lead as he navigated the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the distant echoes of the party behind you. Mattheo's expression was unreadable, his eyes focused ahead, as if he was deep in thought. The tension that had gripped you inside the common room began to dissipate, replaced by a strange sense of calm in his presence. As you walked, you stole glances at his profile--his jawline sharp, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes a stormy mix of emotions.

There was something different about him tonight, something vulnerable beneath his usual composed facade.

As the two of you finally reached the vacant potions room, Mattheo relinquished his hold on your wrist, allowing his fingers to slide away like the fading echo of a melody. He gently pressed open the ancient door of the classroom, and you slowly ventured inside.

Your senses heightened, capturing every subtle nuance of the space. The faint creak of the floorboards beneath your weight, the distant hoot of an owl, and the rustle of leaves against the windowpane merged into a symphony of nocturnal sounds. The anticipation in the air crackled like static electricity, wrapping around you as Mattheo's presence loomed closer, his warmth seeping through the layers of your uniform.

A singular step carried you further into the room, yet your feet rebelled against moving any closer. Your body buzzed with a peculiar blend of apprehension and curiosity, a tingling sensation that crawled beneath your skin. Mattheo's proximity felt palpable, his body brushing against you as he stood just behind, a silent guardian in the obsidian night.

The click of the lock reverberated through the chamber, its sound shattering the silence like a fragile glass.

His words caressed your ear as he spoke, accompanied by the strong scent of whiskey on his breath. "You're a goddamn handful, Raven..."

At the sound of his voice, your lids fluttered involuntarily, warmth creeping down your back, you were beyond thankful that he was behind you and couldn't see your reaction.

Your voice was a breath as it left your lips. "That's funny, coming from you..."

"Touché, princess." He hummed, the vibration massaging your spine. You tensed as his hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your hair back with it. "I'm sorry about Berkshire...he's a real charmer..."

You huffed, shaking your head, dismissing the heat that pooled in your core with each passing moment of his proximity. "Seems like all you Slytherin men are...certainly know how to dish it out, but don't know how to take it, hm?"

His lips curled into a smirk, his tone laced with arrogance. "Oh, we know how to take it, Raven," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I certainly do, anyways..."

Your breath caught in your throat. "I'm not so sure about that, Riddle...my mouth has gotten you going many times now..."

"Fucking right it has..." he growled, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. "But I can handle you...the real question is, can you handle me..."

Your pulse was flying, rocketed somewhere into another galaxy. "Haven't I proved myself yet..."

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped him, reverberating through the room. His warm breath brushed against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation across your flesh. His tongue traced a torturous path up the side of your throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands hovered over your hips, their presence magnetic, hesitating slightly before tightening their grip as if uncertain of your response.

"Not even fucking close, princess..." he purred, his words dripping with desire. "You have a long ways to go still..."

A soft, involuntary sound escaped your lips, your head falling back against his shoulder, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that coursed through you. Resistance seemed futile; you were utterly ensnared in his grasp. He wielded an irresistible power over you, and you had no strength left to resist, even if you wanted to--all you had were words; empty, meaningless words.

"I thought you didn't want to do this anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hushed breaths between you. "I thought you just wanted me to be your tutor."

Mattheo's grip intensified. "I said a lot of things last night that I didn't mean, Raven..." he murmured against your neck. "I was drunk."

"You're drunk right now, too, Mattheo..." you muttered, unable to hide your amusement. "Bloody hell, you have issues."

"I know...I've gotta work some shit out," his teeth nipped your earlobe, you could practically feel the smirk on his lips. "I'm exercising my demons, Raven, I promise..."

His words hung in the air, laced with desperation and a yearning for understanding, as if he sought solace in your presence but didn't know how to ask for it--with a sharp inhale, your hands found his, and when he loosened his grasp on your hips, you spun around to face him, meeting his dark, penetrating eyes.

Your hands fell to your sides, fingers trembling as your gaze darted from his eyes to his lips, and back to his eyes. "What the fuck do you want from me, Mattheo Riddle..." you whispered. "Give me a solid answer...for once in your bloody-"

"I want you," he cut you off, his hand shifting to cup the side of your face. "...I want you on your knees for me..." his thumb brushed your cheek, his head tilting. "...I want you swallowing my cum..." he wet his lips, leaning closer, "...but most of all, I want you moaning my fucking name until it's the only word that pretty little mouth knows how to say."

Your lips parted, a soft exhale of contentment escaping your throat as he brushed his mouth against yours, stealing every breath from your lungs.

"But…you can't stand me, remember..." you whispered, your voice trembling like fragile glass. "You hate me..."

"Yeah," he huffed, his gaze flickering to your lips. "I hate you."

Your heart thundered against your ribs. "You hate me.”

"Yeah, I fucking hate you," he replied, his eyes simmering with intensity. "Do you hate me?"

"Yes," you responded, the words flowing from your lips like molten lava. You needed no time to think about it, not even a second. "I hate you."

"Yeah?" His eyes darkened, his features glossing over with something that made your stomach twist. "Say it again."

"I hate you, Mattheo Riddle..." you murmured, his lips brushing over yours again, sending electric sparks across your skin while his hand slithered around your lower back, pulling you closer. "I hate you so much."

He gripped your uniform between his fist, a low chuckle leaving his throat, his voice dripping with seductive arrogance. "I don't think I believe you, Raven." He purred, his warm breath caressing your lips. "Maybe you should prove it."

He pressed his lips to yours in one swift, powerful kiss, the intensity of it leaving you breathless. His mouth trailed a scorching path along your jawline, his tousled curls tickling your cheek as his warm breath fanned your skin. Speaking became a struggle amidst the sensations that engulfed you.

"How do you propose I do that?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible over the thundering beat of your heart. His lips moved to your ear, pressing against it with a tantalizing heat.

"Hit me," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

"What?" Your body erupted in an incomprehensible collection of emotions, admittedly taken back by his request. "Why-"

"Hit me," he repeated, voice harsher now. "Just like last night--fucking slap me, Raven...don't be shy, you know I deserve it..."

The intensity behind his words propelled you into action, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Without a moment's hesitation, you inhaled a sharp breath and drew your hand back, the room electrified with anticipation. With swift precision, your palm met his cheek in a sharp, resounding smack--his tousled chocolate curls dancing upon impact, his head jerking to the side.

In the charged aftermath of your slap, a potent silence hung in the air, laden with fervent anticipation. When he smirked, his eyes ablaze with a searing intensity, it felt like a scorching brand against your skin. Undaunted and admittedly more fucking turned on than you'd ever been before, you wound your hand back again--this time, your slap landed with a fiercer impact, a guttural groan escaping his lips as your palm connected with his cheek for the second time.

Before you could register what was happening, his hand gripped a fistful of your hair, his strength surprising you, and he spun you around. With a forceful push, he shoved you against the wall, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger that matched the storm raging within you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both.

"You like that, Raven?" He purred, his fingers working to untuck your blouse before slipping underneath the fabric, the sensation of touch sending shivers down your spine. "You like making me fucking hurt, huh?"

"Gods, yes," you gasped, words choked through your breath as his fingers teased your nipple under the fabric of your bra. "You deserve so much more than that."

"That's right," he groaned, arrogance flooding his tone, lips moving like a sin along your neck, igniting your senses. "I'm a piece of shit, aren't I...using you like this...taking you as my little fucking toy when I said I wouldn't..."

A shuddering breath escaped your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, unable to deny the raw intensity of your desires for even a single fucking second longer.

"Mattheo," you gasped, your voice barely audible, your body amplifying your words as it pressed closer to his, spine arching as he teased your nipple. "Touch me...please, just fucking touch me..."

"There she fucking is...there's my dirty little slut..." Mattheo groaned, low in his throat, teeth sinking into your neck. "Begging for me without even needing to be told...fuck, you learn so quickly, don't you..."

As his hand trailed down your stomach, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the heat of his touch flood through you. The trail of embers he left in his wake had your mind reeling, making it hard to even form coherent thoughts--your heart pounding so hard you were completely fucking certain he could hear it.

"Matty..." you whimpered, his teeth marking your neck, your grip tightening in his hair.

As his fingers slipped under the hem of your skirt and found their way to the mound of your pussy, you couldn't help but arch your back, pressing your hips closer to his hand. The fabric of your thong did little to impede the sensation, and you felt your body responding involuntarily to his touch. Your bodies were pressed tightly against each other, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in rhythm with you.

"Shh," he murmured, hand slipping from your hair and clamping over your lips. "You'll need to be quiet princess...you don't want to get caught like this, do you?"

His body shuddered against yours as you mewled, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through your limbs. Mattheo pressed himself harder against you, his hardness pressing against your thigh--the sensation sending a jolt of excitement through you, causing you to roll your hips against him in response. You were so fucking far gone now, there was absolutely no saving you. You wanted more of him, all of him, every single inch he wanted to fucking give you.

"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice was a breathless growl as he slipped his fingers under your thong and slid a finger through your soaked slit, your entire body jolting against his--a loose moan reverberating through your chest. "Oh fuck, Raven...you're so fucking wet..."

Breath hitching, engulfed in a deluge of lust, you wriggled against him, lava already flowing out from your centre and through your veins.

"Look at what I fucking do to you..." he pressed your head against the wall, his own head shifting back to meet your eyes. "Who else gets you this fucking wet, huh? Fuck...this little pussy already belongs to me..."

You choked back a moan, stifled under his rough palm as the pad of his finger drew slow circles around your clit, warmth flooding your body. Your hands clutched the fabric of his shirt now, digging in with enough intensity to slice the fabric with your nails. Mattheo growled, watching every ministration of your face under his hand, rubbing faster in response, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your hips bucking.

"That's it...fuck..." he muttered, loosing himself in your eyes, in the heat of your pussy dripping from his touch. "No turning back now, Raven...you're going to fucking cum for me...you're going to make yourself mine..."

Your lids fluttered, body trembling, oxygen fleeing you without hesitation; short, insistent groans escaping your throat, his fingers assailing your stiff nub. You were balancing on your peak, ready to tip over, never knowing pleasure so fucking intense in your entire life.

"Look at me." He hissed. "Look into my fucking eyes as you cum for me."

Every nerve in your body felt electrified, pulsating with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful--chest rolling and head spinning as you met his eyes; drowning in their chocolate intensity. His touch, his gaze, everything about him overwhelmed your senses, plunging you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. You were gone, hardly hearing his words, hardly even conscious, the sensations flowing through you were unlike anything you've ever known. And then, before you had a chance to accept it, white light flashed in front of your vision, blurring your sight, a blissful heat ripping through you and shattering your sanity as you squealed into his palm--Mattheo’s lips parting and his chest heaving as he watched you, not daring to blink, not even daring to breathe.

You became aware how tight you had been holding him, and you quickly released him, a wave of hot shame washing over you. Your hair was sticking to your face, your cheeks tingling.

"Such a good girl," he said, lifting his fingers from your pussy and bringing them to his lips, shoving them past his teeth, holding your stare as he sucked your juices off of them before slowly pulling them out with a pop. "Just getting a taste of what I have to look forward to later."

You exhaled a long, trembling breath--your conscious slowly returning.

“Gods,” you gawked, speechless, body still tingling with the aftershock of your climax. “What are you doing to me, you plague of a boy…”

He chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a malicious smile. “Told you I’d ruin you Raven…” he said. “I may be many things, but a liar isn’t one.”

———————

Here’s eight->

1K notes · View notes

mingigoo · 10 months

Note

hi sie!! i'm happy to see that your requests are open and would like to request something myself c: 1. seonghwa 2. roommate au 3. prompts 11 and 17 4. with spice please 🙏 thanks so much! i rly appreciate you and your writing even if you can't get to this 💕

I hope you like this!!! really enjoyed writing this one :)

— sleep-talker || p.sh (m.)

“You know you sleep talk?”

“Stop looking at me like that.

🌊pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x roommate! Seonghwa

🌊 summary ⇢ when you and your friends decide on a trip to the beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you "hate" the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it.

🌊 genre/au ⇢ roommates au, vacation au, one bed trope, forced proximity au, smut

🌊 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, wet dreams, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, PDA, "enemies" to lovers, one-bed trope, teasing, jealousy, intense tension like holy hell

🌊 word count ⇢ 10.2k words

🌊 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts (please let me know if I forgot you!)

masterlist

ateez masterlist

“Are you for real right now?”

Spring break. A time for rest, relaxation, and lots and lots of sex.

And now, your plans of being a whore for the vacation were ruined.

“Yes, y/n. I can't afford another room just for you to have to yourself,” Hongjoong, your older brother, mumbled as he stuffed the last bit of clothes into his luggage. “You’ll have to room with Seonghwa. San and Wooyoung already called each other.”

He zipped up his suitcase and stood up to leave, but he couldn't get off that easily. “Please, Joong. I’ll do anything. Cant I just room with you and Mingi?” he hastily made his way out of his room and into the living room, trying his hardest to get away from you. “I’ll sleep on the floor. No blanket, just the floor. Please.”

He turned to face you, a confused expression on his face. “Why are you so adamant about not staying with Hwa? What did he ever do to you?” he asked you, genuinely curious. The truth is, he did nothing to you personally. Maybe that was why you hated him, because god, if he gave you the time of day, you would pounce on him like a cat in heat.

You groaned, running a hand through your messy, unwashed hair. “Because he’s a dumb ass jerk that gets everything he wants.”

Hongjoong laughed at you and turned away. “It's only a week, y/n. He’ll probably spend most of his time in our room, anyway. Just bring a book to read or something to distract yourself.”

As if reading is the thing you'll be focused on if you were in a room with him. Oh Nah, you'll be wishing he’d walk around shirtless and hoping he somehow takes a shower and walks out with nothing on—

“I hope you're packed and ready….” Joong trailed off as he looked at your messy exterior, and stifled a laugh. “And if you're thinking of getting laid, you might want to shower.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, having no drive to shower. You'll get one when you get there. It's not like you were that stinky.

“Shut up, dickhead.”

You stood on the sidewalk of your apartment building, Hongjoong’s little yellow Geo Tracker sitting there lookin’ all cute. However, the tiny thing only had five seats.

There were six of you.

“Welp looks like I can't go! What a shame, what a shame,” you sarcastically yelled out, tossing your hands in the air exasperatedly. “Have fun without me!”

“Shut your mouth, will you?” Hongjoong groaned, tossing your luggage into the “trunk” or whatever it was. “It's only a ride to the airport. You can sit on someone’s lap for ten minutes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why am I the one that has to do that? Wooyoung is like the size of my arm. He can do it.”

Joong shut the trunk with force at your comment, totally disregarding you. “Hop in,” he said. “Enjoy shotgun while you have the chance.”

You got in reluctantly, even though you were very excited about the beach itself. Your excitement was short-lived as you approached the devil’s lair.

“Stay here, I’ll go help them,” Hongjoong mumbled, pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead as he put the car in park.

You nodded, your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't mind the rest of the group— San and Wooyoung always knew how to make you laugh, and Mingi was absolutely eye candy. You wouldn't mind sitting on his lap on the way to the airport.

Just as you got comfortable with your head resting against the window, the door abruptly opened, causing you to nearly fall out of the vehicle. “For fuck’s sake, who the hell—” your words got caught in your throat as you met eyes with Park fucking Seonghwa. “Oh, it's you…”

He stood there, his thin torso draped in a sheer white top and his long, lean legs covered in a pair of black pants. You swallowed your drool like a schoolgirl, making sure he never knows how you think of him.

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, not moving an inch and not even reaching to unplug your seatbelt. “This seat’s taken, buddy.”

He snickered, his lips mockingly curled up in a sneer. “Oh, aren't you a sweetheart? Now move, I called shotgun.”

“Well, I did first.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes—”

“Neither of you are getting shotgun,” your brother laughed from behind Seonghwa, San and Wooyoung giggling like the goofs they are next to him. You still didn't move, even as Joong approached and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. “Y/N, please help me out here.”

You debated on throwing a fit, but knowing that it would just cause more problems, you sighed and pushed yourself out of the front seat. Now standing on the curb of the sidewalk right in front of Seonghwa, you tilted your head up to look him in the eyes. His gaze was intense—it made you envision what it would be like in bed, looking down at him from above, and how his eyebrows would knit together in pleasure. God, you needed to get laid this vacation, or you were going to be suffering from delusions.

Without warning, Mingi pushed through both of you, interrupting your staring contest.

“We better go, I don't want to listen to their bickering any longer,” the tall boy huffed as he plopped himself in the front seat, a proud smile resting on his lips.

San sat in the backseat on the right, Wooyoung next to him in the middle. That left either you or seonghwa to fight to the death for that last seat, but you knew how this was going to end.

And it wasn't going to end well.

—

“You comfortable, y/n?” your brother called from the driver’s seat, looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

You frowned so deeply you could've sworn your face was permanently stuck like that.

There you were, in the back of the car, in the most uncomfortable seat ever. Seonghwa groaned underneath you, his bony body not offering you any wiggle room. You didn't answer your brother, you were certain your expression was enough of a response.

You adjusted yourself on Seonghwa’s lap, looking out the window for any distraction. As you moved, you felt him move his hips, and you had to shut away your filthy thoughts about him as soon as they came. Between his movements and his groans, your stomach was knotting in something more than butterflies.

The car was filled with conversation, however, you and Seonghwa remained quiet and in your own little worlds. As the others bantered, you pushed yourself up further on his lap, grimacing as you heard him let out a grunt in your ear.

And then when his hands gripped onto your bare thighs, you were the one to gasp.

“Stop moving,” he whispered in your ear with haste, almost like a sneer. You kept your vision forward as his breath danced in your ear. “It hurts.”

You swallowed hard. “Oh? Is your little dick that sensitive?” you whispered back, smirking. You moved again, this time on purpose, feeling his bulge through his pants. You kept your cool, ignoring his shaky breaths from behind you. “Are you that happy to see me, Hwa?”

“Shut your mouth or you won’t see the sunrise,” he hissed, but his voice was weak.

The ten-minute ride felt like an eternity as he breathed underneath you, your mind constantly thinking about how hard he was getting underneath you and how sweet it would be to turn around and face him to see his reaction to you.

You looked to your right, seeing Wooyoung with a knowing smile on his face. “What?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, grinning. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, letting out a giggle. “Just that you both seem…cozy.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, your movements causing Seonghwa to wiggle underneath you.

“Dammit, Y/N I told you to stop moving,” he seethed, his grip on your thigh tightening. Hongjoong looked back through the mirror, worry in his expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, meeting your eyes before focusing on the road once again. “We’re almost there, only about a minute or two.”

“Ten-minute ride my ass,” you mumbled, and as you entered the Airport, you should've known that there were going to be speed bumps on the way in….

The shitty old car hopped over the bump, feeling like it hit a huge boulder. You bounced up, not held by any seatbelt, landing hard, right on Seonghwa’s family jewels.

“Fuck,” he cried, tossing his head back against the headrest. Your hands were now holding onto his legs for dear life.

“Joong, will you slow down for those things? Some of us are suffering back here,” you said, to which seonghwa started laughing.

“You're telling me.” he scoffed.

“Okay okay, I just have to park. I have no idea how this works….where the hell is the long-term parking—”

“Probably over there,” Mingi pointed in the opposite direction.

“No, no, I think it’s—”

“I can't take this anymore!” you cried out, leaning forward to assist Hongjoong since Mingi isn't helping. “There's a huge sign in front of us. How can you miss that? It spells it out, dammit.” you huffed, throwing yourself back into your “seat.” This time, he didn't let out a single groan, probably just as fed up with you as you were with him.

Finally, Hongjoong found the lot and parked the car, and as soon as it was stationary, you tossed yourself out of the vehicle like there was no tomorrow. You knew that you couldn't last a minute more on his lap, because if you did, you would be so tempted to turn around and make out with those painfully pretty lips of his. God, he made you so mad. Ever since you met him, there were only the same thoughts circulating round and round.

Dirty thoughts.

Seonghwa crawled out of the car like a decrepit old spider, his long legs holding up his body with grace. You bit your lip, looking down at where you were sitting on him. Quickly, you looked away as he noticed your gaze, and ran away to go help the others with the luggage.

You weren't quick enough to miss the achingly attractive smirk on Seonghwa’s face.

Why did he have to be so….. libidinous? He was like a wild animal, able to take the lives away of his prey with just an expression.

No more seonghwa on the brain—it was beach time. You were certain you could find someone at a bar to sleep with later, and it wouldn't be Hwa.

Not now, not ever.

—

You got lucky with the plane ride.

Your seat buddy was Mingi, and Hongjoong knew how much you like your window seats.

Mingi nearly slept the whole flight, his head rested against your shoulder. He snored a little, but it didn't matter. The gentle giant had a place in your heart, so he could do no wrong.

You often stole glances at Seonghwa across the aisle, his head bobbing up and down as he fought his tiredness. He was so much more likable when he was sleeping, but that was definitely due to the fact that he couldn't stare at you with those entrancing eyes or run that mouth of his.

You were the only one awake by the end of the flight. It was difficult for you to sleep in public places. It didn't feel right. So you would fight off sleep as hard as you could and distract yourself with anything around you.

After the fiasco of leaving the plane, you anxiously trailed behind Hongjoong through the busy airport, pushing past loads of people who had places to be. Thank goodness you were able to leave the airport without a fuss, even if seonghwa was nearly breathing down your neck as you exited.

Luckily, the ride to the hotel wasn't far—and there were more than enough seats for all of you. You distanced yourself from Seonghwa, ignoring his hellish gaze.

The hotel you were staying at stood tall, facing the gorgeous blue ocean for a perfect view. You shut your eyes as you took everything in, smelling the saltiness and the warmth of the air. You smiled to yourself, but your delightful moment didn't last long.

Seonghwa bumped into you purposely, digging his shoulder into yours before walking past you toward the hotel entrance. “Hey, what was that for?” you growled, a scowl on your face.

“You were in the way,” is all he said, not even bothering to turn to face you as he spoke. He continued walking, his beautiful silhouette showing through his sheer shirt. Oh, you wanted to tear it off of him so badly.

You let out a huff of air, but then followed your friends into the building, knowing the end was near if you had to share the room with your snack of choice.

Hongjoong went up to the front desk as you and the boys stood near the doorway, waiting for him to check us in. It didn't take him long, and soon enough, he was walking back over, key cards in his hand, and a bright smile on his face. “All checked in! This’ll be our home for the next week.”

San grabbed his key card first. “Are we all on the same floor? Like in a row? It would be no fun if I had to actually put on clothes to go on the elevator.”

“Yes, San, we’re all on the same floor.” Hongjoong held in his laugh, already clearly enjoying his time away from reality. You stood angrily with your arms across your chest next to seonghwa, who didn't look any happier than you. “And will you two brighten up? You’re killing the vibe.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the boy next to you. His dark hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, sticking to his forehead like it would if he were sweating. You gulped, thinking dirty thoughts once more before regaining your peace of mind. “I’m not doing anything. It’s all him.”

“No, it’s all you, not me.” he retaliated.

“You’re the one that got a hard-on from me just innocently sitting on your lap.”

“You were purposely shoving your ass on me like a freak—”

“You are ruining the vacation already—”

“Annnd we’re not doing this again,” Mingi sighed and then gripped onto your arm to pull you towards the elevator.

“Let’s go, we got bars to get wrecked at.”

—

“Oh, hell no.”

You dropped your luggage as you entered your room for the week, staring at what was in it.

Or lack thereof.

One bed—a queen, maybe, sat in the middle of the room. A chair was tilted by the sliding glass doors that opened to the balcony, and a lamp stood in the corner. It was cute, of course, but you thought this couldn't get any worse.

Seonghwa walked past you into the room, setting his suitcase on the floor by the chair. “Don't worry,” he hummed, his voice low. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I–” you paused, taking in a breath before continuing. “You can sleep on the bed, I ain't that mean.”

“So you think I’m going to let my best friend’s sister sleep on the floor?” he laughed, but it wasn't out of humor. “That’s funny. I’d get my ass beat.” He sat down on the floor, stretching out his long legs before opening his suitcase. “Just forget about me like you usually do and take the bed.”

You had no snarky remarks to throw at him this time, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever. You sighed, sitting down on the bed with a thud. “Okay, fine. Wake me up when we are going to leave.”

“Yeah yeah,” he snarkily replied, too focused on his luggage in front of him. You shut your eyes slowly, holding on to your consciousness a little longer, before drifting off into a sleep that would cause an unexpected uproar a few hours later.

—

After your amazing nap, you and the boys found your way to a beach bar, sand filling the floor and loud music playing in the background. You took your rightful spot at the bar, sitting right next to Wooyoung, who was already chugging a fruity margarita.

“You should try this, Y/N,” he let out a satisfied sigh after he finished his gulp. “Tastes like fucking unicorns and rainbows.”

You laughed. “Sounds divine, but I’ll pass and get my whiskey sour.”

He grimaced. “Ew, you should spruce it up a little bit sometimes.”

San sat down on the other side of him, a fancy glass in his hands as well. “Yeah, you’re kind of a bore.”

“San what the—”

“She is, isn't she?” Seonghwa hummed from behind you, and of course, sat his ass in the chair right next to you. You groaned, ignoring him once again, although it was quite hard to not drool as he gulped his beer, his throat bobbing as he drank it.

Fucking hell.

You looked around for any sign of your brother to save you, and once you saw him, you cringed, turning right back around to face the bar. “Dear god, can't he keep his dick in his pants for five minutes?” you shivered, trying to think of anything else other than your brother making out with a random person.

Seonghwa looked back, a smirk on his face as you ordered your drink. “Hypocrite. Just last week I walked in on you with Mingi in the chem lab,” he snickered, his midnight eyes catching the neon lights behind the bar. “Your tongue was so far down his throat I swear I—”

“Says the guy who I caught watching porn freshman year in the computer lab—”

“Here’s your Whiskey sour,” the bartender awkwardly interrupted, but thank god he did. You quickly chugged it, finishing it within a minute of getting it. He gave you another right away, and you downed that one as quickly as it came. He was cute, a little on the scruffy side, but definitely a good one-night. You gave him a look, feeling accomplished as he smirked a little before serving someone else.

“Maybe you shouldn't drink so fast, y/n,” San murmured from Wooyoung’s side, his strong arms holding his weight against the table. “You get drunk really quick on an empty stomach. Remember what happened last time? You have a bad habit of trying to kiss everything you see.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, setting the empty glass down on the bar. As you did that, you felt the warmth of the alcohol fill your body. “What? Who did I kiss?”

Seonghwa laughed from the other side of you while you focused on San.

“Me.” San blinked. “Tongue and all. But not just me, you kissed the statue outside our campus. You know, that really rusty one?”

You gagged. “Ew, no. stop. No, I didn't.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Seongwha piped in, sipping on his third or fourth beer. “And then you threw up on my shoes when I brought you home.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, taking his beer right out of his hands. “Phew, thank god I didn't kiss you,” you shivered, bringing the bottle up to your lips. After you started chugging it a little bit, Hwa ripped the bottle away from you.

You felt your vision start to sway from the alcohol. You loved the feeling of being drunk—just hated the hangovers. Right now though, you wanted to get wasted and go home with a stranger. The hangover will be tomorrow’s problem.

But seonghwa had to just run his mouth once again.

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He laughed, a full, humorous laugh. He tossed the bottle to the back of his throat and then continued to laugh at you. “Something about how awful the airplane food was and how drinking milk reminds you of cum.” he grimaced at the last part, but a playful smile still rested on his face. “God you are explicit.”

Your cheeks flushed, looking anywhere but his direction. “I do not sleeptalk.”

You looked to Wooyoung and San for help, but they looked dumbfounded. “I wouldn't know, y/n, I never slept with you,” San smirked, smiling deviously at you. “Unless you’re down with that, I’m all for hearing you sleeptalk in my ear all night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Woo played along, knowing he was just doing it to tease you. Seonghwa, on the other hand, was trying desperately to embarrass you in front of the hot bartender.

“God, it’s so annoying, I wanted to rip my hair out earlier,” he smiled devilishly, his teeth even brighter than normal under all the neon lights. “I thought I couldn't hate you more, but you proved me wrong.”

You looked straight ahead, ignoring Seonghwa’s goofy smile. “Whatever,” you huffed, resting your face on your hand, your elbow holding up the weight. You watched the sexy bartender notice your stare. He smiled and walked over to you.

“Need another sour?” he asked, his cheeks pinched with dimples. You had your eyes set on going home with him, and you were going to follow through with it. Seonghwa can stay outside for the night—or watch, it didn't matter to you.

“Actually,” you pondered, blinking slowly as the alcohol hit your system even harder. “I’ll take a vodka and Sprite. Grey Goose.” you hummed, watching him nod with a smirk on his face.

Seonghwa chuckled, but you were too focused on your mission to hear him blab about how much he hated you over and over again. Soon enough, that damn grey goose hit you harder than anything. Your eyes fluttered after your second glass, your vision fuzzy, and your heartbeat racing.

You let out a heavy sigh, unable to remember your original mission.

“Hey,” you coughed, your cheeks burning up from the toxin. You looked around the bar, only meeting Seonghwa’s eyes…..oh…they’re so pretty. “Where did everyone else go?”

He was facing you, looking at you through those sparkling irises of his. He took in a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, your brother left with that girl he was making out with earlier….San and Woo left not too long ago to go to another bar, and Mingi….” he paused, watching your expression change when mingi was mentioned. “Mingi went with them.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Why’d you stop at mingi like that?”

He furrowed his brows. “Why’d you look like that when I mentioned him?”

You sniffled, feeling a burning sensation in your throat from all the vodka. “What do you mean?” you were too messed up to defend yourself. You didn't even know your expression changed.

“You looked…different when I said his name.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his dreary tone. “Pfft. Hwa, do you think that just because I slept with him once that I have feelings for him?”

He frowned, his eyebrows knit with confusion. “You slept with him? Mingi?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just once, though.” Oh god, you officially couldn't think straight. Why were you even telling him this? “But that was it.”

He looked at you with an unknown expression, flattening his lips. “So you just sleep with anyone, huh?”

You scoffed. “Well, no, not usually.” you bit your lip, looking at him without knowing how you were looking at him. “I kind of always wanted you, but I didn’t understand why, so I ignore the feeling by sleeping with other guys.”

“That makes no sense, y/n,” he spat. “What are you saying?”

You rolled your eyes, drunkenly gripping his broad shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Awh, shut it, Hwa. Haven't you ever felt that before?” you paused, not realizing how close you were. His eyes were sharp, and his lips parted. “Wanting someone you can't have? Knowing that they wouldn't want anything to do with you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze piercing into you sharply. “You’re drunk, y/n,” he paused, looking at you intently before shaking your hands away. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Oooh, don't tempt me, baby,” you poked his chest, giggling as he stood up off the barstool. You were completely oblivious to the fact that you just admitted to wanting him, but it didn't seem like he took it seriously.

“Get up,” he huffed, gripping under your arms and lifting you off your chair. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his waist. You held onto him tightly as he reached into his back pocket to grab money, tossing it onto the counter with a glare at the bartender.

“Enjoy your night,” Seonghwa growled, holding onto you, and made his way towards the hotel with you clung to him.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, a giggle under your breath.

He grunted, pulling you along with him. “What?”

You sniffed. “Can I kiss you?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Why?” you mumbled, shoving your face into his chest.

“Because it’s your drunk habit.”

“So would you kiss me if it wasn't?” you asked, completely obliterated. There was no way you were going to remember this in the morning.

He didn't answer you.

“Come on, Hwa,” you moaned, stopping and gripping onto his collar in front of the hotel. You looked up into his eyes, feeling his intense gaze cut right through your intoxication. You needed him. Needed him bad. “Just once. God, just once.”

“I…” he swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, crying out to touch you. He kept them away, even if he didn't want to. “Not now. Not while you’re drunk.”

You blinked slowly, watching his lips flatten into a frown. “Does that mean you want to?”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair aggressively. “Please just….let’s get back to the room and get you to bed.”

You groaned, but complied, following him into the hotel and into the elevator. The ride was silent, Seonghwa standing in the corner, farthest away from you, his breathing slowed. You stared at him, leaning up against the wall.

“I really hate you,” you mumbled, glaring at him. He was too sexy, his hair messy, his eyes dark, his long legs taller than a skyscraper. You only admitted your attraction to him when you were drunk, but you couldn't deny the pull you had to him.

He looked up at you, his starry eyes looking from your legs, up to your hips, over your breasts, and finally to your eyes. He took in a sharp breath, biting the corner of his lip.

“I hate you too,” he whispered, his vision low.

And in what world would the words I hate you cause someone’s heart to flutter?

The elevator dinged at your floor, and after a moment of longing stares, Seonghwa gripped your arm and dragged you out. He held onto your drunken body as he searched for his keycard, and once he found it, you tumbled into the room together.

Your back was pressed against the wall, his arms caging you in on both sides. His forehead was on yours, and you were able to feel his hot breath against your lips.

“Oh,” you hummed, your hands subconsciously dancing at the hem of his t-shirt. You watched his throat bob anxiously as you looked into his eyes.

It took everything in him to move away. He coughed awkwardly and then nodded toward the bed. “Come on, you need to rest.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, unable to move in a straight line. You kicked off your sandals, and pulled off your shirt with ease, leaving you only in your bra and that skimpy skirt seonghwa was looking at all night.

He watched as you walked, holding his breath without meaning to.

As you neared the bed, you reached back to unclip your bra, but you couldn't reach it. “Hwa?”

He was looking at the floor. “Hm?”

“Can you…” you paused, giving up on trying to get it off. “Take this off of me? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He blinked, his eyes wide. You couldn't see the confusion in his expression, but you heard the shakiness of his tone. “W-what? Your….bra?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't say anything else. He slowly walked over to where you were, and as his fingertips traced the middle of your back, you shivered under his touch.

He unclasped the hook, but held on to both ends of the bra, afraid to let it drop. “It’s done,” he whispered, backing up slightly.

You dropped the bra onto the floor and then reached to take off your skirt. As you slid it down your hips, you heard seonghwa nearly trip over his feet trying to turn away.

“Do you…always sleep naked?” he asked you, looking anywhere but where you were. You were way too drunk to care about what he sees, but you were also too tired to try. You fell onto the bed, your arm covering your breasts and your underwear still on.

“Fuck, y/n,” Seonghwa huffed, finally looking over and doing everything to not look where he shouldn't. He gently reached for the blanket, tossing it over you in one swift motion.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling his presence loom over you. He brushed away the stray hairs on your face and made sure you were laying on your side.

“.... I’m so screwed,” he muttered, giving you one last look before walking into the bathroom and turning on the cold water.

A cold shower, especially knowing that there was a beautiful, nearly naked girl in the bed just outside the door.

The cold water ran down his body, giving him a rush of pain.

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his attraction to you only worsened.

—

After his attempt to cleanse his messy thoughts, Seonghwa stepped out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips. He hesitated before looking over at you, and after he got a good look at your pretty face, he made his way to his luggage, rooting in there for a t-shirt to toss on.

“...seong…hwa,” you moaned.

Moaned.

“....y/n?” he whispered, maybe thinking you were awake and needed something. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but that sounded too….sensual than just a normal tone.

“I…ugh,” you groaned, “don't stop, please. H…Hwa.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, dropping the clothes he had in his hands, eyes wide.

“Seonghwa….”

Okay, that was the third time. You were most definitely dreaming about him….

“Oh…my…god.” Hwa gulped, cautiously standing up and backing away as far as he could from you.

Little did he know how detailed your dream was.

—

His hands snaked up your bare hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were on your ear, biting, teeth clashing against your skin.

He thrusted into you, hard, his hips buckling as he moaned. You cried out his name, back arching, nails scratching. He fucked you hard, his forehead against yours, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“You like that?” he whispered, his tongue sliding into your mouth before you could answer. His sweat fell on your cheek, and you moaned out his name once more. You weren't sure how you got here, how this came about, or anything. All that mattered was that you were finally with him, the man you always thought you hated.

“…hwa,” you moaned, “fuck me harder.”

And as he slammed into you with even more force than before, his lips crashed onto yours, his black hair blocking your vision. You wanted more, and more and more—

“Y/n,”

“Just shut up and keep going,” you cried out.

“Y/N!”

You shot awake, gasping for air as your back hit the headboard. You breathed heavily, realizing that you were dreaming about all of that and that the real seonghwa was standing in front of you, shirtless, with an expression you weren't quite sure you’d ever seen before.

“Seonghwa, what—”

“S..stop it. Don't say my name,” he stuttered, looking anywhere but your body. He quickly tossed a t-shirt at you—his t-shirt. “Just put this on. The guys are down getting breakfast, so we gotta go.”

He quickly walked to his own luggage and grabbed a shirt for himself. You watched him as he tossed it on and slid on his shoes, and with one last awkward glance at you, he left the room in haste.

You were too scared to look down, hoping that you still had underwear on. You weren't too sure if that was a dream or not, but given the way he acted, it made you even more confused.

You felt the wetness between your thighs, clenching them with a sigh. You stood up, tossing on the bra that was laying on the floor as if it was thrown off of you.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you made your way to the breakfast area on the first floor, immediately noticed by Hongjoong. “There you are! I was worried you weren't going to—” he stopped, noticing the shirt that was way too big on you. “That’s the shirt I got Hwa….”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, shoving a bagel into his mouth to distract himself.

You ignored him and sat down across from him and next to Mingi. You looked up, meeting eyes with the man you thought so filthily about, seeing a swipe of cream cheese on the bottom of his lip. You held back, knowing that it’ll just send you into another spiral if you pointed it out.

But when he stuck his tongue out to lick it off, you felt the tingle in your stomach once more, thinking back at the dream you had, and how his tongue caressed you in more ways than one.

He met eyes with you, his lips parting slightly. His gaze was much different than it ever has been. You've never seen him so….lost. His expression was conflicted, his eyes not leaving your lips.

Wooyoung smirked. “Did you guys fuck or something? What’s with the mood?”

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong yelled.

“What? I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he shrugged.

“We didn't. Keep dreaming,” Seonghwa muttered lowly, taking another bite of his bagel.

Hongjoong huffed. “I don't want to imagine my sister and seonghwa in that way…that’s super weird.”

“Why?” seonghwa questioned, his tone serious. You looked at him, confused as to why he cared. It seemed like everyone else was just as confused as you. “Ahem, I mean…uh, is it that hard to imagine?” Seonghwa’s voice was shaky, his gaze hopping from Hongjoong to you.

It made your brother laugh. “Well, yeah. You guys hate each other, right?” he took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “It makes no sense for you to even see eye to eye, I couldn't imagine you two in any type of relationship. Maybe her and Mingi, out of everyone.”

Seonghwa dropped his bagel face down onto his plate. “Why Mingi? What’s so special about—”

“I’m right here guys….” Mingi tried to interrupt, but Seonghwa shot him a dangerous glare, causing the gentle giant to hold his tongue.

Hongjoong looked around at the boys awkwardly and picked up his fork to continue eating his eggs. “I’m just saying.”

This was too awkward. You kept stealing glances at Hwa as if he were a magnet. You assumed he felt similarly, because every time you looked, your eyes would meet, and then you would awkwardly stare for a moment too long before looking away.

And when he got up to get more food, you got up, too.

“We need to talk,” you whispered, coming right up next to him as he put a muffin on his plate. “Why are you acting weird?”

He sighed and continued to add food to his plate. “I’m not acting weird.”

As he moved to get a drink from the drink machine, you continued to follow him. “Did I do something wrong yesterday?” you gasped, holding a hand over your mouth as he still ignored you. “Did I kiss you? Dear god, I hope not—”

“No, you didn't,” he said quietly, walking back over to the table.

“Something must have happened, seonghwa—”

He stopped, nearly causing you to bump into his back. “Don't.” he paused, taking in a sharp breath, looking over his shoulder at you. “Don't say my name.”

You frowned in confusion, watching the muscles in his back move as he walked away. You couldn't remember your antics yesterday, but maybe you made him uncomfortable by sleeping nearly naked—he hated you, so you could only imagine how irritated he was.

“Listen, if it was because I was naked, I'm sorry—”

Everyone at the table looked up as you spoke, including seonghwa. He looked shy, a blush on his cheeks, and he sat down quickly and stuffed the muffin in his mouth.

“Naked?” Mingi laughed, looking from you to seonghwa suggestively. “Sounds awfully smutty, Seonghwa.”

“We didn't—” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “Nothing happened with us.”

“Mhm, okay,” San smirked. “Whatever you say. Anyway, we have a whole day out planned, so you two better get back to your normal selves or we won't have any fun.”

You really needed to talk to seonghwa, but it seemed like you'll be busy the whole day with the boys—and he didn't seem to be very interested in talking to you, anyway.

You tilted your head in curiosity.

“What are we doing?”

—

The day was eventful.

First, you went to the beach. Seemed innocent, until Seonghwa took off his shirt and got all soaking wet, sending you in a mess of thoughts and a mess below. He would look over at you, and wouldn't look away, paying intense attention to your body in a skimpy little bikini.

When you went to talk to him, he body-slammed you into the ocean, and normally you would've fumed, but this time, you enjoyed his hands on your bare skin.

After the beach, you walked along the boardwalk of shops and lots of food. You grabbed a popsicle, licking it without a thought, but when you felt an intense pressure on you, you looked over to see seonghwa looking at you with an expression you've never seen on him. His eyes were focused on your lips, his own lips curled up as he bit them. You continued to eat your popsicle, but couldn't stop looking at him.

When you tried to bring up last night, Hongjoong came over and took the rest of your pop, running away from you like a child.

At dinner, you sat at the far end of the table, as far away as possible from Seonghwa. It wasn't intended, but now there was no way you could talk, as everyone would hear your conversation.

You ate, feeling defeated. Maybe you should just forget about it.

It was still daylight after dinner. As the guys conversed about what to do next, San and Wooyoung decided to go their own way and walk the beach, which was just their code word for “shopping” for girls. Hongjoong agreed with them, shocking you since he was always hell-bent on not going off a schedule. You assumed he was just going to meet that girl he was with yesterday, but whatever, it just meant that you could be left alone with Seonghwa.

After those three left, it was only you, Seonghwa, and Mingi. Hwa stood with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around as you stood outside the restaurant. Mingi was even more awkward, looking at you before speaking.

“Um, I’m just gonna go with Woo and San, so,” he breathed, looking to seonghwa now. “I’ll see you guys back at the hotel tonight.”

“Okay, Mingi,” you smiled. “See you later.”

You watched him leave and then looked at the boy standing next to you.

“So,” you tried to initiate conversation, but seonghwa started walking in the opposite direction from where everyone else went. You followed. “What should we do?”

“I’m going surfing,” he said blandly. “I don't know about you, though.”

“I’ll come with you,” you smiled, finally catching up to him. He let out an aggravated groan as you walked close to him. “Do you even know how to surf?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, of course, I do.”

“I’m just saying,” you noted, shrugging as you followed him. “You’re too….dainty. I feel like if you fell off you’d break every bone in your body.”

Seonghwa didn't react in any way you were hoping he would. Instead, he kept walking silently, until you reached the part of the beach where the surf shack was. Wetsuits were laid out, ready to be picked up, and surfboards stood tall through the sand and against the building. You stared in awe as you approached, seeing that there was no one else here but you two.

Finally, alone at last.

“Grab a suit if you’re gonna do this,” he pointed to them, raising an eyebrow when you stood there anxiously. “What? Don't you know how to surf?” he mocked.

You kicked at the sand, your hands behind your back. “Pff. yeah, of course, I….no. I don't.” you pleaded with your eyes sweetly, despite all of the dirty things you wanted to do to him. “Could you please teach me? Pretty please?”

He held his own suit close to his chest as he looked down at you. “Why should I?”

You stepped closer to him, causing him to step back cautiously. “Because I’m pretty?”

“Oh honey, who lied to you?” he joked.

“Please, Seonghwa?” you stressed his name, hoping to break him. You watched his eye twitch as you said it, reminding you of earlier when he told you not to say his name.

“Seonghwa seonghwa seonghwa seong—”

“Okay, fine! Jeez,” he huffed, tossing you a suit, only for it to hit you in the face. “Get dressed.”

You walked into the shack with him, going your separate ways at the locker rooms. Everything went smoothly until you tried to zipper the suit up, only being able to get it halfway. You pondered on asking seonghwa for help or completely turning into a contortionist, but after failing to do it yourself, you gave up and left the room to ask him.

Seonghwa stood amongst the surfboards, his lean body looking delicious in that surf suit. You nearly drooled looking at him.

“Hey,” you started, slowly approaching him as he picked out a board. “Can you help me zipper this?”

He turned to you, his expression conflicted as he saw you. You turned around, showing your exposed back, causing him to clear his throat. “O..okay.”

His delicate fingers brushed against the skin of your back, nearly causing you to shiver. You felt his breath hit the back of your neck as the zipper moved up and up until he zipped it completely.

“....There,” he said, swallowing. “You’re all good.”

He didn't move his hands until you pulled away from him, turning back around to face him. The silence was deafening, so you decided to break it.

“Seonghwa, about last night, what exactly happened—”

“Let’s just get started before the sun goes down,” he interrupted, looking anywhere but your eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

That was good enough for now. You watched him try to pick out a board, but he seemed extremely nervous. After a good bit of time, he grabbed a pink one, causing you to smile. Pink suited him so much, more than he’d probably like to admit.

“Let’s start with some basics,” he spoke smoothly, tossing the board down onto the sand. “Get on it. On your stomach.”

You lay down on the board, looking up at him for more directions. He taught you how to paddle with your arms, explaining that you'll have to dive under the waves sometimes if you were okay with doing that. You couldn't look weak now, especially not to him. So after the little training lesson, you were finally in the shallow water, sand already in every nook and cranny of you.

“Try to keep balance,” he said, his voice raspy. It wasn't the time to turn you on, but of course, he could do it just by his voice. “Keep your chest up.” his hand caressed your back, down your spine.

You looked up at him, his wet hair dripping down his face. You held back, as much as you could, from pouncing on him.

But when you fell off the board and got stuck underwater, you’ve never seen him so concerned before.

He grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back up and holding him to you while you coughed. You were perfectly fine—maybe a little too much water in the ears, but it was the least of your worries. What you cared about was the look on his face and the way he caged you to his body.

“y/n?” he rushed his hand over your face, pushing away your drenched hair so he could see you. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, blinking away the salt that infiltrated your eyes. Seonghwa noticed your distress and gently rubbed your face with the pad of his thumb.

“Don't rub your eyes,” he pushed your hand away, still not letting you go from his embrace. “You'll make it worse.”

“It hurts,” you mumbled, causing his look of worry to worsen. True, the salt started burning your eyes, but you couldn't get enough of his caring touch—maybe because he’s never shown this side of himself to you.

He took in an anxious breath as he looked around. “Maybe we should get back to the hotel,” he spoke softly, the sound of water filling your senses as you looked at him.

Everything about his appearance aggravated you—from the way his midnight hair draped his face, dripping with water down his cheeks, to the way his normally judgemental eyes seemed gentle and sweet. He looked kind, the type of man who would worship his lover like a queen, and all the time knowing him, you tried your hardest to only see him in a negative light.

Now, as he held you in the cold, sparkling ocean as the sun was setting, all you saw was your reflection in his eyes and all you felt was the undeniable pull to be with him. To touch him. To kiss him. To tell him that maybe, just maybe, you’ve always had a piece of him in your heart.

“Seonghwa, I…” you paused, ignoring the burn from the salt water. You watched his lips as they slowly parted, his eyes wide as he picked you apart. They looked at you differently, like they never looked at you before, and you wanted him to never stop looking at you.

The distance between the two of you was nonexistent—you saw every drop of water on his skin, and you were certain he was able to gather the meaning behind your gaze. If he did, he didn't say anything—he only looked back at you with those entrancing irises of his, a look you’ve never seen from him. He waited patiently for you to finish your sentence, but you had nothing else to say.

As your lips neared his, you heard his breath get caught in his throat, and you felt his embrace tighten around you. You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling, hoping that he would be the one to lean in and meet your lips.

He didn't.

Instead, his hands trailed down your back, the pink surfboard still floating next to you despite being forgotten. His breath was shaky as he touched you, but the moment ended too quickly as he shook himself out of his trance.

“I um, we should, you know,” he nodded towards the beach, even though you weren't too far out. “We should get back to the room.”

You slowly blinked at him, watching his expression stay the same despite the change of mind. He coughed, letting go of you, but then he grabbed your hand and the board before pulling you to shore.

The walk back was quiet. He didn't let go of your hand until you got back to the surf shack, and he reluctantly let go knowing you had to change.

You both were silent as you looked at each other, but the ache in your chest convinced you to break this tension.

Before you entered the changing room, you quickly turned back around to face seonghwa, who still stood with that….sex-charged expression on his face.

“….Stop looking at me like that,” you hummed, your chest heavy as he breathed in deeply. He looked at you with those bedroom eyes of his, half of his wetsuit already off. He looked deadly, which didn't help your desire.

He swallowed hard but tried his best to remain calm. “Like what?”

You took a step closer, reaching back to your zipper to pull it down just a little. You shrugged it down your bare shoulders, making sure he got to know that there was nothing else but you under that wetsuit once again.

And when you got as close as you could, you said the words you knew would be life or death for him.

“Like you want to fuck me,” you shrugged, acting all cool even though you were falling apart by the second. You were lucky you were at the surf shack at such a late time of day, and that no one else was here except you.

He choked on air, stepping away from you until his back hit the wall. You noticed how his chest rose and fell as he breathed in, and how delicious it would be to just lick him all over….

“I…” he gulped, but his eyes lingered on your shoulders and the curve of your breasts. “I don't know what you mean?”

You smiled through your haze, mind focused on getting to the bottom of his sudden change of attitude towards you. You reached out, gently guiding your hand down the plain of his chest, down his slim, but muscular waist. Oh, you couldn't get enough of him already.

You smirked. “Then tell me why you’ve been eye fucking me all day, or at least what happened last night, so I can understand.”

He blinked fast, looking from your lips, down your neck, to your bare shoulders.

“You…” he took in a sharp breath as your hands trailed down his body. “You sleeptalk.”

“I know that already,” you whispered, looking into his captivating gaze.

He leaned forward slightly, veins popping in his neck as he strained against his judgment. “I mean, you…kept moaning my name. I…I couldn't take it anymore….I can't take it anymore. Every time you speak I just want to fucking shut you up with my mouth for fucks sake.” he huffed, subconsciously gripping your hips as he grits his teeth. “You so annoying, so damn annoying, I can't—”

“Then take me,” you spoke against his lips. “Fuck me. Just like you did in my dreams.”

His forehead pressed against yours as you pushed him further against the wall.

“And how did I do that?” he growled, his fingertips tugging at your wetsuit. “Was I rough? Gentle?” he paused, lips pressed to your neck. “Did I make you say my name, or was that all you with that filthy little mouth of yours?”

You couldn't speak as his lips glided down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked on the skin there, roughly, causing you to suck in a sharp breath and run your hands through his dripping-wet hair.

You moaned, biting his earlobe. “I want you to tear me apart.”

He smirked against your skin, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“Rough it is, then.”

Without warning, he bit his lip hard as he pulled your wetsuit right down to your ankles, the water from his hair dripping onto your bare shoulders. He nearly growled as you stood in front of him, naked as ever, his gaze darkening before gripping the back of your neck to pull you to him.

As he sucked on your neck, you pulled down his suit with aggression, not quick enough for the hunger in both of your souls. His hot breath tickled your skin, his hands clawed at your hips, and his lips begged to kiss yours as you shoved him against the wall once again, skin on skin. He breathed heavily, his eyes dancing from your breasts to your waist, to your lips.

You gripped onto his hair, staring into his eyes for a moment before you locked your lips with his, tasting the saltiness of the ocean and the sweet warmth of his saliva. Your tongues fought for their lives, dancing as you deepened the kiss. Foreheads slamming, hands invading space. It was all over for your sanity the minute his long fingers glided against your core, his middle finger finding your clit and rubbing gently. His kisses were rough as his fingers delicately touched you, fueling the fire within you even more than it already was.

“Seonghwa,” you moaned against his ear, causing him to move his hand faster with a grunt. “Push them in me.”

He hissed, his eyes rolling back into his head as he pulled his hands away for a moment, only to suck his fingers in front of you before shoving them into you, curling them up inside you. You arched your back against him, crying out as his lips found yours once again.

He kissed you deeply as he made love to you with his hands, his fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you—but it wasn't enough. You bit his lip sharply as he fingered you, causing him to hiss in pleasure. “I need your cock in me. Now.” you licked his jawline, watching him squirm in your embrace.

His cheeks were flushed red as he looked at you, his eyes looking as if he were intoxicated. “I…fuck,” he sucked in a breath, kissing you as his fingers moved faster and faster. “Okay.”

As he pulled his fingers out of you, he licked them once more, his eyes on yours seductively.

“You taste so good.” he moaned, his mouth parted. He then lifted you up, walking you over to the table of waxed surfboards in the middle of the room. Shoving everything off with one hand, he threw you onto the wood, causing you to let out a little grunt.

“You’re so sexy,” he leaned over you, slamming your hands above your head before silencing your moans with a rough kiss. “So fucking sexy, you have no idea how long I wanted to shove my dick inside you.” His words were like gasoline to your fire, causing you to cry out in a whimper for him to do exactly what he said he would do. You kept your mouth shut as he tugged you to the edge of the table, lining up his hard-on to enter you.

After a look of longing, he spit onto his fingers and rubbed them onto his cock and your heat, his chest falling and rising with his heavy breathing. He then buried himself inside you, deeply, causing your breath to hitch. He was even bigger than your dreams, tearing apart your expectations of his skills. You tried your best to free your arms from his hold, but as he moved in and out of you, you had lost the desire to escape it. You really liked the feeling of his fingernails tearing into your skin.

“Ah,” he whimpered, his hips rocking quickly, his eyes shut tight. His thrusts were deep, not slowing down for a second.

Your legs curled around his shoulders, his one arm holding your hands and his other piercing into your ankle. He grunted as he pumped into you, tearing at your insides, feeling him fill you up. “Hwa,” you groaned, back arching in pleasure. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He grunted in response, speeding up faster as his hips slammed into yours. You felt him quiver inside you, precum dripping into you without a care. You loved the feeling, you didn't care about the risks in the moment.

You climaxed without warning, your legs tightening around his head. He kept muttering your name over and over again against you, kissing the skin of your ankles as he continued to fuck the living shit out of you. You started to see stars as he nearly cracked your spine, and right before he nearly came, he flipped you over onto your stomach without ever leaving you.

Your face was shoved against the wood of the table, the sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses. You cried out his name as he gripped onto your hips, moving faster as his own orgasm came close. His lips met the small of your back, his fingers gripped your ass with haste.

“I’m going to come,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. “Can I come in you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Come inside me.”

As if your words stirred something within him, he immediately moved in shorter movements, his grip on your ass tightening as his orgasm came. His breathing shallowed as he came into you, filling you up with his cum. You let out one last moan as you felt his warmth, and he kissed the back of your neck as he finished.

He pulled out of you slowly despite how rough he was—he could've been rougher, but you didn't want him to think of you as the insane slut everyone thought you were.

Even though you only ever slept with others because you couldn't have him.

And now…..what comes next?

He helped you sit back up to a normal position, and when he saw the dark, purple bruises on your neck and collarbone, he gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” his fingers gently brushed against your hot skin as if he didn't just totally destroy you. “I kind of….went crazy, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him in a daze, both your cheeks blushed in embarrassment and enjoyment. “I like crazy.”

He paused, standing proudly in front of you with that delicious body of his. You sighed in contentment, a lazy smile on your lips. “I dreamt of this. Literally.” you reached out to him, pulling his lips down to yours. He kissed them softly, opening his mouth wide as he made out with you. You didn't want to pull away, but as the thought of you both having sex in a public surf shack came to your mind, you pulled away quickly, startling him.

“Um, so,” you laughed awkwardly. “Should we head back now? We are kind of in a public place….”

Seonghwa looked around, smirking as he leaned forward on the table, kissing you once more. “It was kind of thrilling, not gonna lie.”

You leaned into his embrace, his hands caressing your back romantically. “So,” you whispered against his lips. “We should get back. And this time, you better sleep in the bed with me.”

“Oh, baby, I plan on doing more than just sleeping.”

—

After countless rounds of ‘sleeping’, you ended up waking up late in Seonghwa’s embrace, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder as he held you. He quite literally rocked you all night long, and you even discovered his love for reverse cowgirl—making him come within two minutes of the fifth round.

Now, as you lay in his arms while he slept, you finally felt content. He was all you ever wanted, even though your words said otherwise this whole time of knowing him.

“Hey,” you turned around in his embrace, pressing your lips against his forehead. “Seonghwa.”

“Hm?” he grumbled sleepily, his eyes blinking open to meet yours.

You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. “We should get up. The others are probably waiting for us in the lobby.”

“Ugh, why?” he groaned, holding onto you tighter. “ I don't want to leave this bed today. Or ever.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “Come on, Hwa. I really would like to get a tan on the sand today.”

His eyes were wide open now, but he blinked slowly from his sleepiness. “We barely got any sleep,” he huffed, shoving his head into your shoulder. “And I can't kiss you in front of everyone, I can't wait the whole day to touch you.”

You grinned chaotically.

“Who says we have to hide it?”

—

“Dear lord,” Wooyoung huffed, sitting with his arms crossed at the beach. “Are they ever going to stop and come up for air?”

Your friends sat on towels on the sand, while you sat on Seonghwa’s lap as you made out with him. His hands gripped your face as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, both of you having no care for those around you.

“I knew this was going to happen,” San mumbled with a smirk, elbowing Wooyoung playfully. “Just let them have their fun. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Pfft,” Woo scoffed, looking at how seonghwa touched you.

“I always thought I would be the one tapping that.”

“Wooyoung shut the fuck up.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #roomates #vacation au #ateez masterlist #enemies to lovers #fwb #wooyoung #San #mingi #Hongjoong

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 7 months

Text

Dirty Thoughts

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary- While babysitting the twins, Wanda is left to listen to all the sinful thoughts of her flickering through your mind.

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Oral sex, Multiple orgasms, Overstimulation, Dom/sub undertones, Bottom Wanda/Top Reader, Dirty thoughts, Age difference, Sexual Tension, Face-sitting, Fingering, Grinding, Implied/reference cheating, Fluff and Smut

General Master List

W/c- 4.3k

---

"Prepare to lose Tommy," you tease, stretching your arms above your head in a joking manner, twisting your body to warm up for the most important event ever.

"There's no way I'm going to lose to an old person," he sticks his tongue out at you, a gasp leaving you at his insult.

" Old? I'm twenty-one," you splash a bit of the water at him earning a chuckle from Billy from the side of the pool.

"Exactly, old." You roll your eyes at the boy, turning and getting yourself into position for the race. You couldn't back down from the silly remark Tommy made, declaring he could swim faster than you, which now led to a race happening between you two. Billy was to watch from the side lines, judging who would win the race and ending the debate.

"On your marks, get set," Billy dragged out the starting call, laughing at how serious you and his brother were taking this. "GO!" he called, and you both started. Being older than the boy by around ten years helped as you quickly took the lead. You probably should have gone easy on him, but you were too competitive to do that. You looked behind you to see him trying to catch up, a look of determination on his face making you laugh. You were nearly halfway across the pool when you heard a mischievous laugh erupt from your side. "Sabotage!" Billy screamed, jumping onto your back, the air being kicked out of your lungs as you went underwater with the added weight. You gasped for breath when you reached the surface, Billy like a koala clinging onto your back as you tried to continue the race.

At the sound of shouting, Wanda came outside after just arriving back from work to see the chaotic scene unfold in front of her. A smile took over her face as she watched Billy try and halt your movements while Tommy swam past you, your arms trying a last-ditch effort to win the race by grabbing at his legs but failing. She took a seat in one of the longue chairs outside, laying back to admire the race.

"I win!" Tommy pants out, just about reaching the other end of the pool before you despite his brother on your back. Billy remained clinging onto you as you stood up in the water, wiping your face and trying to push some of your wet hair out of your eyes. You watched as the boys high fived over you, Billy's arm quickly wrapping around you when he pulled back as he was scared to fall off you.

"You cheated," your face in disbelief as you held onto the boy who ruined your chances of winning.

"I didn't do anything," Tommy taunted, looking at the boy on your back with a triumphant look. You shook your head at the cheek of the boy, chuckling at how happy he was and giving in.

"Fine, you win," he immediately erupted into cheers along with his brother. You decided you had enough of Billy at the moment and playfully leaned backwards.

"No, no," he rushed out as he hovered over the water, his grip on you increasing. Standing up straight, he sighed in relief before his eyes widened when you squatted down, submerging both of you in the water. You came up quickly and he let go of you, swimming over to where his brother was so you couldn't do it again.

"You deserved that Billy," a voice spoke from the side, all three of you look over to see Wanda watching with an amused look.

"Mom," he complained, "You're supposed to be on my side." Both you and Wanda chuckled at him making him turn around to talk to his brother, pretending to ignore you both.

You climbed out of the pool, letting the water drip off your toned body and walked over to where Wanda was. Her eyes briefly scanned your body before you could notice and watched as you flopped down onto the chair next to her. She let silence wash over the two of you and returned her gaze to her boys in the pool, the only sound your quiet pants as you recovered from the race and being jumped on.

You look over at Wanda and couldn't help but stare. She was beautiful, absolutely breath-taking and seeing her in that light summer dress made your thoughts run wild.

You sent the boys inside, making sure you and Wanda were alone before crawling on top of her. She sent a sultry smirk up at you, her hands ghosting your sides as you leaned down to press your lips to hers. A sinful sound escaped her throat, moaning into the kiss as your knee came in contact with her core. Pressing harder against her, she started to grind her hips against your knee, her dress hitching upwards to expose her thighs.

"Please," she sighed out as you pulled back from the kiss to mark her neck. Her hands clawed at your back as her hips moved against you, pleas tumbling out of her mouth. Your kisses moved to her neck then lower, worshiping the exposed parts of her breasts with small bites and open-mouthed kisses. The sounds she was making were intoxicating, making you addicted to trying the pull them out of her. "Fuck," she groaned, her accent coming out as she lost herself in the pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," you mutter while returning to crash your lips to hers. She whines into you, your tongue exploring her mouth while her hips move frantically against your knee.

"I'm so close," she moans, her hands moving to grasp at your toned arms that were supporting you upright.

"Do you want to come for me?" you husked out earning another whimper from her along with a nod, "Beg me."

"Please," her voice dripping with desperation, "I've been so good and I'm so close. You're making me feel so good so please let me come." You chuckled against her lips at her needy state and continued to press your leg down onto her core.

"Come for me," you rasped out before her body tensed and her orgasm ripped through her. A guttural moan erupted from the back of her throat as her body fell back against the chair. You kissed down her neck towards her chest before venturing lower and hovering at the bottom of her dress. Your hands itched upwards toward her soaking core, a finger running over the wet fabric of her panties. You moved-

A choked cough from your side knocked you out of your fantasy, Wanda on the other chair seeming to clear her throat with a blush painted across her cheeks. You quickly placed your hand on her back to see if she was ok, the skin hot under your touch as she looked at you with slightly darkened pupils.

"Are you alright?" your voice was concerned at the way she was acting but she quickly dismissed it.

"I'm fine," her voice a little breathless but you assumed that was from coughing. "It felt like there was something in my throat," you didn't fully believe her but pushed it to the side when refused to meet your eyes.

Soon the boys came running over, asking for you to play with them again, well, they more dragged you away, but it was fine. You jumped into the pool, the boys following straight after you, leaving Wanda to deal with what had just happened.

Wanda felt confused as she watched you innocently play with her boys as if you didn't just think of fucking her right here on the chair. She couldn't help but listen into your mind, your thoughts racing as you imagined her body squirming under you, being brought to pleasure again and again. She had heard your thoughts before, but they were smaller comments that flattered her, maybe making her heart flutter by the way you thought them, not anything like this before. You looked different in her eyes now, the idea of you wanting to dominant her sending a thrill down her body, especially between her legs. You were always attractive to Wanda but now she felt this urge of want for you as she heard how much you desired to her. She tried to push these thoughts away as she stood on shaky legs, making her way towards the kitchen to start dinner.

Later on, you found yourself stood by the sofa as the twins laid down, taking up most of the cushions and leaving you no room to sit. To be fair, you probably weren't supposed to be there, your babysitting hours over ages ago but when Wanda asked you to stay for dinner and a movie, you couldn't resist. Both boys cheekily smiled up at you and you rolled your eyes at their antics.

Vision sat on the armchair that was next to the sofa with the boys and Wanda, the woman squeezed on as her boys refused to move.

"Come on," Wanda's voice in mother mode, "Make some room for Y/n." They groaned but remained the way they were, and you chuckled before making your way around the sofa.

"It's alright I'll just sit on the floor," you said, taking a seat in front of where Wanda was sat. "Do you mind if I lean back?" you ask while looking over your shoulder, a smirk on your face as you look at her. Not trusting her words, she nods at you, and you move to rest against the sofa, her legs dangling next to your shoulders as you make yourself comfortable. You stick your tongue out at the boys, leaning your head back between Wanda's legs to put your head on the gap on the sofa. You moved your gaze over to Wanda who looked at you with a curious look as a mischievous expression took over your face. "So, Mom ," you teased the older woman making her roll her eyes. "What film are we going to watch?"

"Well," she leaned forwards and ran her fingers through your hair, ruffling it up as a joke making you pout at her, "It's Billy's turn to choose so it's up to him." Her eyes stayed trained on you as you craned your head back to look at her, the sight of her still stunning even upside down. You moved to face the Tv as Billy chose a film and tried to ignore the way your body craved for her to run her fingers through your hair again.

Vision sat with a small scowl on his face, not a huge fan of you as you always somehow caught his wife's attention. He knew he was away a lot for work but when he came back, he wanted to spend time with his family, yet you were always there.

Soon everyone seemed to be engrossed in the film, but you couldn't shake the thought of Wanda.

What would it feel like with her thighs wrapped around your head? Her smooth skin encased around you as you kissed her inner thighs, teasing her and making her squirm on top of you. She could be a wet shaking mess as you edge her again and again, leaving her to beg you to make her come. Opposingly, you could have her seated on your face, hands gripping at your hair while she screams your name all night long as you make her come as many times as possible. How many times would you be able to make her come in one night? Would she be able to squirt if you-

A low moan from behind you disrupted your thoughts, yours and Visions attention going to Wanda as she flushed red, the twins too busy with what was happening on the screen to notice. The older woman couldn't stop the sound that escaped her at your thoughts. The idea of being give an orgasm would have been satisfactory for her, Vision being careless about her during sex, while you wanted her to do it as many times as possible. She subtly clenched her thighs together, desperate to relieve the heat building there.

"Are you alright dear?" Vision asked while you continued to look up at her from your seat on the carpet. She avoided your intense gaze, not wanting the idea of you below her at the moment and cleared her throat.

"Yes, I'm fine," she dismissed, trying to quickly think of an excuse to cover up the noise.

"Are you sure?" he looked at her with a quizzical look, her mouth opening before the sound of his phone ringing cut her off. "Sorry I need to take this," he leaves the room answering the phone and you turn your gaze back onto the film, trying to understand what was going on as you missed part of it with your thoughts of a certain person.

A few minutes later Vision returned, a small bag packed with him as he rushed around the room.

"I'm sorry but I have to go to London for a meeting about a new deal with a large investor," his words made the boys frown, complaints about how he's always away for work spilling out of their mouths. He quickly says goodbyes to them, kissing each of them on their foreheads along with a short peck on the cheek to Wanda. The door shut with a small thud; the twins sad at how he had gone. You tried to cheer them up while Wanda walked outside to try and catch her husband. Looking at the time, you asked them if they were ready for bed, their heads nodding as they had lost interest in the movie. It didn't take long to get them into bed as they were already in their pyjamas, tucking them in so they were comfortable and able to drift off.

When you arrived back to the living room you saw Wanda sat by herself, eyes moving off the screen towards you. Offering a small smile, you sat next to her and started to watch the film when she spoke up.

"I need to have a word with you about something," her voice was nervous and that caused a small panic inside you. "It's probably going to sound stupid but-"

"Nothing you say is stupid, Wanda," you reassure despite being anxious about what she wants to talk to you about.

"I can read minds," she says, eyes watching you and waiting for you to burst out in laughter, but you don't, you just look at her trying to understand what's going on, "And I've been hearing your thoughts recently as they've been quite loud." Your face pales momentarily, knowing how sinful your thoughts about her have been. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to say something but not sure what to but she speaks before you can. "They were...flattering" your eyes hesitantly meet hers and when you see the blush on her cheeks and how her eyes darken you don't feel as anxious. "They um made me feel..." she trailed off, clenching her thighs together which you notice, the action making your lips twitch into a smirk.

"How did my thoughts make you feel?" you purred out, confidence running through you as you watched her attempting to keep her composure. The blush on her cheeks deepened and you moved a hand slowly to her face, giving her time to move away if she wanted, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was her turn to be speechless, her body focussing how close your body was to her, your hand lingering to cup her cheek. "Did you like them?" your hand moved from her face to her thigh, squeezing gently while leaning closer to her face.

"Yes," she whispered out shyly, your lips millimetres away from hers causing her gaze to lower.

"What did you like about them?" her brain was clouded by arousal as you teased her lips, a shaky sigh leaving her when you bit your lip in anticipation of her answer.

"They made me feel so," she dragged out her words, removing her gaze from your lips to your eyes to tell you why she liked them, "Wanted, hot, wet ." You let out a small groan at her words and moved your hand up further on her thigh, her breath hitching.

"Can I kiss you?" she answered your question by crashing her lips to yours, her hands moving to your shoulders to keep you close. You bit her lip and dragged it back gently before delving in for another kiss, this time exploring her mouth with your tongue earning a groan in response. Her body moves forwards, straddling your lap as she tilts her head down to move her mouth against yours. Her hands return to your hair like you wanted, nails scratching at your scalp while her hips softly grind down.

"Shit," she muttered when your hands glided over her stomach and brushed the underside of her breasts through the summer dress she was still wearing. A smirk engraved itself on your lips as you placed kisses from her ear to her jaw, venturing down her neck and sucking faint red marks into the soft skin. Your hands gently cupped her breasts, a sigh leaving her lips, and squeezed softly.

"Please," the tone of her voice sending a shiver down your spine at how desperate she already sounded. You chuckled at her collar bones, determined in kissing every inch of skin exposed to you and worked your fingers at stimulating her nipples. You could feel them harden under your fingertips and pulled on them earning a loud gasp and a harsher grind of her hips in your lap.

You looked up briefly to see her biting her lip, trying to contain her sounds as the way her hips were moving against you meant the fabric was brushing against her clit in the most perfect way. Your hands left her breasts and ran down her body to reach the hem of the dress. Your eyes asked the question if this was alright to which she nodded at and moved her hands to pull the dress over her head.

"Wow," you murmured while scanning over her exposed body, the sight of her breasts making your mouth water. She chuckled at your awed expression but that swiftly turned into a moan when you took a nipple into your mouth and sucked. You alternated between sucking and licking around the sensitive flesh, one of your hands mimicking the actions on the other breast while your other hand rested on her hips, guiding her movements. Her hips started to move more frantically as she neared her orgasm, her breathing becoming more laboured as she desperately moved against you.

"I'm- Fuck," her hips stuttered and legs tensed around you as a guttural moan erupted from her throat. You let go of her breast with a pop and moved to muffle her sounds with a bruising kiss. She whimpered against you as she rode out her high, her panties now well and truly soaked.

"That's one," you rasp out, her eyes fluttering open as you kissed around her face. "I didn't even need to use my hands," you teased, "I wonder how hard I can make you come with them." You returned to her chest, worshipping them while your hands drifted to her thighs to caress them. Lightly, you trailed your finger up and down her dripping panties, her hips bucking at the touch, and slowly started to circle her clit through the wet fabric.

"Y/n," she whines, hands clutching at the back of your shirt. You shush her by going back to her lips, the faint reminiscent of wine on her lips addictive.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you," you mutter before moving her panties to the side and slipping a finger through her folds. She moans into your mouth at the feeling, your finger teasing her entrance.

"Please," she begs quietly in between kisses making you thrust your finger into her. Her walls clench around the digit, her hips moving to grind down on your hand as you slowly thrust it in and out, curling it inside her. You can't help the groan that leaves your lips when Wanda moves to suck at your neck in attempt of hiding her moans. Her teeth nip at the hot flesh and her hands scratch your back through the fabric of your shirt. You add another finger into her and start a leisurely pace of pumping them into her which slowly drives her mad. All she can feel is you, the skin under her mouth as she marks you, one of your hands gripping her ass while the other is buried knuckle deep inside her, slowly dragging another orgasm out of her.

"Faster," she pleas, her hips practically trying to ride your fingers to reach her high. You listen to her and increase your pace whilst moving your other hand to circle at her clit. Her walls tighten around you as her body tenses on top of you again. To muffle the scream that leaves her lips, she bites down hard on your shoulder, the sound still reverberating around the room as she comes for a second time. Pants of breath fill the room as she closes her eyes and leans her forehead against yours, trying to stop her body from trembling.

"That's two," you whisper earning a breathless laugh and a smile. You let her recover and wait for her to set the pace again as her mouth slowly moves against yours before the kiss turns hungry and passionate. You let her take control for a few minutes, her tongue exploring your mouth while her hands searched your body. When she pulled back because air was necessary, you moved to nibble on her ear lobe and husked, "I want a taste," before moving your body so you were on your back on the sofa, her still straddling your waist.

Your earlier thoughts came to mind when you looked up at her, Wanda's mind racing as she remembered how you wanted her to sit on your face while you brought her pleasure. She stood briefly to remove her drenched panties, her fully naked now in front of you and climbed onto you so she could hover above your face. Your eyes were lust filled as you stared at her core, her wetness dripping and coating her thighs causing you to stifle a groan at the sight.

When she lowered herself onto your face, you both moaned at the action. The feeling of your mouth of her pussy sent waves of pleasure through her while you couldn't help but moan at the taste of her. Eagerly, you took her clit into your mouth and sucked at the sensitive flesh. Her hands threaded through your hair, encouraging you to continue eating her out by gently trying to move you where she wanted. Eventually, you flattened your tongue and just let her grind against it, her hips thrusting at your face in search of another orgasm. It didn't take long for her to be on edge again and her moans turned to whimpers as the coil in her stomach snapped. She came with a silent scream this time, hands gripping your hair making you moan into her, the vibrations prolonging her high.

"Three," you murmured while kissing and licking up her juices around her thighs and core. She panted above you, smiling down at you as you lathered her in affection. She motioned to get off your face, her body tired and sensitive but you wrapped your arms around her thighs keeping her sat on your face. "Come on," you mutter against her core, the hot breath causing her hips to move subconsciously, "I know you can do one more." Your tone was low and sultry making a new wave of arousal sit in her core. "Your body is basically begging for it," you taunt, noticing how her hips were already moving closer to your face. "Is this ok?" her face softens as you check she's comfortable and she nods in response. Yes, her body was tired from three powerful orgasms already, but the image of you between her legs and teasing her was too big an opportunity to miss out on.

Your hands stroked the soft skin of her thighs, feeling how they trembled under your touch while your tongue licked through her folds. You teased her briefly before thrusting your tongue into her, groaning at the feeling of her wrapped around you. You wasted no time in swirling your tongue inside her and thrusting it in and out of her. She moaned on top of you, hands groping at her chest while she moved across your face. After repeating the motion a few times, she came with a small cry, her throat becoming hoarse from moaning so much. Her thighs shook around your head, so you soothingly moved your hands across them to let her calm down and counted once again, "Four."

"I can't feel my legs," she whispered from above making you chuckle as they still spasmed slightly around you. You helped her move off your face and onto the sofa so she was laying down. Her green eyes stared at you as you collected her scattered clothes and threw them into the washing machine in the kitchen before returning with a soft smile.

"Are you alright?" you whispered while tucking your arms under her to carry her to her room as she yawned. She hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close as her body wanted reset and you placed her in bed before wrapping the duvet around her.

"Stay, please," she sleepily whispered. You listened to her drowsy request and climbed in behind her, wrapping your arm around her middle and cuddling her. It didn't take long for both of you to tangle under the sheets, locked in an embrace, and drift off to sleep.

---

Have I ever been sabotaged in a swimming race like this before? Yes, yes I have and I'm still salty about it

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3 They're much appreciated!

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #marvel fanfiction #eventual smut #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda smut #sapphic #wlw #gay girls #wlw love #marvel smut

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lovelyhan · 8 months

Text

— 505 ⟢

i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck; or i did, last time i checked.

★ FEATURING; joshua x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.4k words

★ TAGS; coworkers au, friends with benefits, typical gentleman in the streets sexual deviant in the sheets joshua, a hint of pining if you squint, slight angst?, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; this specific picture of shua is years old but it incited the most visceral reaction out of me anyway so here we are with another short oneshot that sidetracked me from the monster that i'm SUPPOSED to be writing :| this also turned out a bit more emotional(?) than i originally intended, so heads up on that i guess

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), choking, slight dumbification (i'm sorry, i normally have more dignity than this but i miss him so so dearly)

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti-red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin

★ JOSHUA TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @lunaryoongie

Joshua arrives five minutes after the first clap of thunder and ten minutes after the rain started pouring outside.

You hear him before you see him. The automatic lock of the hotel room turns as he scans the spare keycard from outside — one that you made sure to leave with the receptionist in the lobby when he told you he'll be running a little late. When the door swings open, light spills from outside and he greets you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter.

It's the same look that makes your female coworkers swoon and giggle to themselves in the office pantry — talk about Joshua's adorable eye smile never straying too far from your ears.

If they knew what kind of person he was past the usual pleasantries, would they still engage in that kind of fanfare?

Joshua is soaked all over when he enters, having tracked rainwater all over the carpeted hallway and into the floor of Room 505. He doesn't seem all too fazed by it though — quickly shrugging off his coat before hanging it behind the flimsy plastic hooks screwed to the back of the door. He shuts it behind him with a kick, sighing through his teeth as he loosens the coil of a sushi-patterned necktie around his collar.

You got that one for him as an exchange gift for last year's Christmas party. Joshua uses it a lot more frequently than you expected him to. In fact, he always wears it during casual Fridays. You're not sure if he actually likes the stupid necktie or he's just trying to get a reaction out of you, but his choice to wear it isn't lost on you either way.

"Team dinners are really something else," Joshua chuckles as he tosses the flimsy material atop the complimentary dining table. He cards his fingers through his damp hair and you try not to think of how good he looks as he does it.

"You should've come with us. It's not often that you see Manager Yoon convince Jihoon to down a shot of soju. Oh, Seungkwan also got his ass handed to him at karaoke with the girls from sales. I had no idea Jihyo could hold her high notes like she means business."

You don't take a bite at his feeble attempt at small talk. He knows damn well why you don't show up to any of Jeonghan's team dinners, but you tell yourself that Joshua's just being polite — still thinking of the outcast of the marketing department despite the fact that you do not want anything to do with the people you work with.

...Although there are some exceptions here and there.

"Really? You're just going to give me the silent treatment all night?" Joshua sighs dramatically as he unbuttons his dress shirt — baring his rain-beaded chest to your unwitting gaze. "Well, if you need a bit more time, I'll go hop in the shower first. You're free to join me if you'd like."

He knows you won't, so you find it strange that he offers each and every time anyway.

You let your gaze wander to the full length mirror attached to the cabinets once the door to the bathroom clicks shut. There's nothing remotely special about your getup tonight. You're still donned in your work clothes — brick gray pencil skirt with a brick gray blazer to match. Apart from the heels sitting on the rack near the door, you're pretty much still in uniform.

You had half the mind to go home and change when Joshua said he's going to dinner and karaoke with your boss and some other colleagues, but that would mean you actually cared about what you looked like in front of him.

Which, for the record, you don't.

You can hear Joshua singing a familiar song in the bathroom — one that he always belts out in the most annoying way possible every time he showers. You wonder if he even knows any other song apart from that, but tell yourself you don't really have any business asking.

As the near-silence persists, however, your thoughts start to wander. Did he also sing this song when he was at karaoke earlier? Did he get to duet the high notes with Jihyo? You wouldn't put it past either of them to do so — being two of the company's renowned social butterflies.

That train of thought brings forth the same question you've been asking ever since the first night you shared this hotel room with Joshua and found him still lying beside you in the morning:

Why'd he choose you?

You're an in by nine and out by five unless there's paid overtime kind of employee. You never bothered establishing any worthwhile friendships in the workspace because you know better than to trust the backstabbing fiends in the corporate ladder. You're perfectly aware of what other people say about your individualistic behavior — how you're the worst team player in your department — but you never really cared.

Not until Joshua Hong inserted himself into your life.

To put it in the easiest way possible, he's the epitome of a perfect coworker. He's the guy that greets you every morning with an charming smile. The guy who drops by your cubicle to give you a coffee he made himself before saying you're doing a great job with that report you're putting together. The guy that everyone just adores simply because he's always been likable from the get-go.

That's the kind of person Joshua is — the exact opposite of you. Surely the jury won't condemn you for always questioning how you wound up spending your Friday nights fucking the man your entire department is basically in love with when you're so unlovable yourself.

Every time you try to recall how your transactional relationship with the company's unofficial sweetheart happened in the first place, your brain simply refuses to cooperate — memories muddled by a few pints of beer too many and an eye-crinkling smile that you're better off not rationalizing.

Besides, it's not like Joshua kisses and tells. Whatever happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505, and that's one of the many reasons why you haven't deigned to walk away from the setup altogether.

You meet up, he makes you feel good — makes you feel wanted — he cycles through whatever aftercare you might need, you fall a little more in love with him, then you both decide if you want to sleep in for a couple more hours or —

Wait.

Did you just admit you're in love with him?

"Hm? Didn't think you'd actually hop in with me today."

Joshua's voice is clearly laced with amusement as you shut the door to the bathroom — cheeks hot with both the steam billowing from the shower and the embarrassment cloying in your chest. You had the foresight to take off your uniform at least, leaving you in an unassuming set of cotton underwear that makes Joshua lick his lips with anticipation.

You make a show of stripping the rest of your clothing before him — nothing but the glass door to the shower separating the both of you. It's nothing sensual, nothing grandiose. You simply take off everything that's keeping your body hidden from your nighttime lover's hungry eyes.

When you step into the warm drizzle of the showerhead, Joshua hums before reaching for a bottle of shampoo — squeezing just the right amount into his palm as he lathers the product into your scalp.

The gentleness weighted into his actions startles you a little — not having expected him to do something so...domestic. You came in here with the full intention of getting fucked against the bathroom wall, but the way he massages your scalp so tenderly makes you reconsider your course of action.

But no matter how much of a gentleman he acts around you, not even Joshua can do anything about his own body's physiological reactions.

You feel the length of his cock nestled against your ass, hips rocking back and forth as he stimulates himself into full hardness. A soft moan tumbles out of your lips when he squeezes some of the hotel-provided body wash all over your chest — large hands lathering the soap across your body all while paying special attention to your tits.

"You finally snapped out of it, sweetheart?" Joshua sighs before latching his mouth onto the thrum of your pulse, biting down for only a moment to get your attention. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?"

The way he murmurs those last few words along the column of your throat makes your legs feel like they'll disintegrate at any moment. Joshua continues to murmur sweet nothings into your ear, helping you clean up properly first before actually trying anything.

You're not sure if you should be pissed off or endeared by his stalling, but by the time he's finally rinsed out all the suds from your heated bodies, you're more or less ripe for the taking.

"Brace your palms against the wall, pretty girl. Yeah, just like that." Joshua chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to your nape, lips traveling down the length of your spine until he's eye-level with your sopping cunt.

"God, I'll never get tired of looking at this pretty pussy. Been thinking about sinking my cock into you all fucking week," he practically growls. "You really knew what you were doing with that cute maroon skirt you wore the other day, weren't you? The one that kept riding up your thighs when you reached for something from the high shelves? Little fucking minx."

You mewl helplessly when you feel Joshua's tongue prodding your soaked folds — forcing you to press your cheek against the cold tile as he massages your ass gingerly.

Joshua does his best to keep you anchored, making sure you won't accidentally slip as he laves at the slick between your thighs. He has no problem doing just that — driving you to near insanity with how his tongue sucks and slurps at your cunt like it's the first meal he's had in days.

"S-Shua," you whimper pathetically, pushing your ass out for more friction. "You're eating me so good..."

Had you not been so quickly drowned in this haze of arousal, you would've exercised more restraint. Joshua normally has a hard time getting you to be more vocal whenever he makes you feel good, but you suppose that there's just something in the air tonight that makes it so easy to just surrender yourself to him.

You can feel the vibrations of his laughter along the millions of nerve endings on your clit as he traces it with the tip of his tongue — further incapacitating you from coherent thought. When he slips in a finger into your awaiting heat, you all but gasp into the steamy air of the hotel bathroom.

"You're so cute when you start calling me that," he coos without halting his ministrations — that sinful tongue darting out to tease and lick and stimulate as he eases in another thick finger into your gummy walls. "Wanna eat you out underneath your desk someday... Would you act as cute as you're acting right now if I did that?"

The prospect of having sweet, gentlemanly Joshua Hong on his knees for you under your work desk makes you tighten conspicuously around his fingers. From the sordid chuckle that leaves his lips, you're fairly certain that he's noticed.

"You like that, huh? You like it when I put my mouth on you? Make you feel so good, you forget about everything else?" he chuckles darkly, rising back to his full height without taking his fingers out of your needy cunt. "But we both know this is hardly enough for you, right sweetheart?"

You hate how he knows you so well.

Joshua spends about one minute max towel drying both of your bodies before he quite literally sweeps you off your feet. You let out a surprised shriek as he princess-carries you onto the bed — gently laying you on the undisturbed sheets before crawling on top of you like a predator circling its next meal.

"Wanna tell me why you were so out of it earlier?" Joshua murmurs as he nips at your jaw, the words followed by a crackle of thunder in the distance. He chuckles when you jolt in surprise before peppering your face with a collection of kisses that ends at the tip of your nose. "It's not the weather, is it? I remember that I literally fucked you in the middle of a storm last month."

"Quit running your mouth and just fuck me," you mumble, lacing your fingers around his nape before grinding up against his leaking cock. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Ahhh," he drawls with resounding epiphany, as if he'd just figured out some ancient secret. "So you were sulking because I took too long to get here? Don't worry, sweet thing, it won't happen again."

When Joshua leans close to your ear, his hot breath fans against your flesh — making your toes curl with quiet anticipation.

"The next time we meet in this room, I'll have you mounted on my cock the moment you come through the door."

Joshua doesn't bother with foreplay or any sort of preamble. He simply guides his cock into the give of your entrance, sinking his length so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," you whimper, fingernails seeking purchase across the rippling muscles of Joshua's back. He doesn't quite move yet — letting you get used to the stretch like he always does.

"Pretty pussy's so fucking tight around me," he groans. "Did you need me this badly? 'm sorry for making you wait so long, sweetheart. If I had known, I would've ditched karaoke and made you feel good as soon as I could."

Empty words uttered in the throes of passion — you're well aware that's all they are. Yet Joshua has no trouble making your heart flutter with the sentiment anyway.

"J-Joshua," you manage to gasp as you feel his girth throb inside you. "Please move... Need it. Need it so bad, please."

You're on the brink of tears with how desperate you are for mind-numbing release, but amidst your mounting delirium, Joshua sighs a little too endearingly before pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

He eases himself into you slowly at first — making sure you feel every ridge of his cock dragging along your tight walls. Joshua particularly feels smug when your eyes roll to the back of your head, addicted to the way his cock is splitting you open.

It's only when you start to loosen up that he picks up the pace, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. The squelch of your arousal echoes within the walls secluding you from the rest of the world.

When Joshua hoists your hips higher before hooking the back of your knees across his shoulders, you knew it was all over for you.

Admittedly, you don't remember the first time you've had sex with him anymore. Or the second. Or the third. You've had each other so many times in so many ways that every instance kind of just blends into the next — painting a messy caricature of all the illicit meetings you've had with your nighttime lover.

But you don't care if it's messy. You don't care if it's strange. At the end of the day, you're comforted by the fact that all these experiences you shared with him are irrevocably yours.

Even if you can't really say the same for Joshua himself.

He stirs the pot of your arousal with practiced ease. Joshua stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's laid eyes on before letting one of your legs fall back on the mattress.

Your lover trades the depth of his thrusts for enough leeway to flatten his thick fingers across your throat — making you bleat with expectation as he presses down just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He hisses when he feels your velvet walls clamp tighter around his cock, further informing him that he's on the right track.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly — his gorgeous face the only thing you can see. "You'll let me do anything to you, won't you? All I gotta do is fuck you stupid and you'll take everything I give."

At this point, you're too far gone to even deny a word he says. "Mmmm... Your cock feels too good, Shua. 'M so close already. You'll finish inside me, won't you? Make both of us feel good?"

"Dumb little princess couldn't even answer my question," Joshua chuckles before making a particularly harsh thrust that jostles you further up the mattress. "Of course I'll finish inside this pretty pussy. It's all mine, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," you mewl as Joshua's fingers tighten around your throat again, making your toes curl with unadulterated glee. "My pussy's all yours, Joshua. All fucking yours."

He chuckles again, fingers climbing up to your jaw until Joshua is able to prod his thumb against your bottom lip. You respond in earnest, suckling at the digit as he rails you into the mattress. There's no longer any room for intelligible thoughts — lost in the sea of pleasure that Joshua choose to drown you in every time you come together like this.

"Close, close, close," you practically sob, thighs winding around his hips as you bring him impossibly closer to you. "Shua, I'm gonna cum. Please, I need to cum. I need you—"

"You already have me, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly yet full of intent that you're too fucked out to notice.

"You'll always have me."

That's what does you in. That's what always does you in — his sweet words, his tender gaze.

As much as the pleasure he gives with each drive of his cock into your battered cunt sends you to cloud nine, nothing makes you fall apart harder than the thought that maybe Joshua Hong is capable of loving you back.

Because how can he stare at you with so much adoration in his eyes if he doesn't actually love you at all? How can he keep meeting you like this in secret if there's no hidden agenda behind it?

But when all's said and done, you come back to your senses. Your rose-tinted gaze fades back into the darkness of Room 505.

Joshua is still beaming at you like you're the only person that matters to him on this entire earth. But you know damn well that he'd never smile at you the same way once you're out of the four corners of this room.

That's just the way things are.

As you pick off your clothes from the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom alike, Joshua stirs from where he momentarily passed out on the mattress — bleary eyes observing your every move as his brows furrow together.

"You're leaving?" he murmurs sleepily. "But it's raining outside. We should stay until it stops at least."

Hesitating for a moment, you stare at the bundle of rumpled clothes in your arms as Joshua practically tells you to go back to bed.

You know it's for the best if you don't lay back down beside him. The distance keeps you grounded — anchored to the truth that beyond these weekly trysts you share together, you and Joshua are nothing but civil colleagues at most.

He isn't your lover. He isn't even your friend.

But a stubborn part of you believes that maybe if he breaks you apart and puts you back together again, you'll be a different person. Someone who can keep up with his outgoing lifestyle. Someone he'll have no problem showing off to his friends and fellow coworkers.

But, really, when have things ever turned up daisies when it comes to you and Joshua Hong?

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your clothes in a heap next to the sushi necktie that looks more worn out now that you're seeing it up close.

You make a mental note to buy him a few more once the Christmas sales start coming around again.

"You coming to cuddle before we sleep or what?"

Joshua stares at you sleepily and expectantly from the bed, even patting the vacant space between him for added effect. If only those girls swooning at him in the office pantry could see him now...

Too bad what happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505.

⟢ end notes: finished this at 3:05 am with zero proofreading dedicated to it <3 if you spot any mistakes, they're not really mistakes since they're all crucial contenders in the creation process <333

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #joshua smut #joshua fanfic #seventeen joshua #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #joshua hong smut #full length fic 📚#lovelyhan

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shaguro · 3 months

Text

— ✰ MORNING | TOJI F.

✧ synposis: toji never wants you to leave for work, maybe this time he'll convince you to stay?

✧ contents: fluff! (it's a lil suggestive towards the end but no actual sex here) established relationship, i guess toji's divorced here?? idk LMAO

✧ word count: 0.4k.

✧ shanti's note: i'm in love with toji so i felt like i needed to write this.🩷

“toji.” you whine, his buff arms were holding you in place as you attempted to lift yourself up. “gotta get ready, baby. don’t wanna be late.”

you get no response, just toji squeezing you tighter. burying his face in the space between your breasts, squishing the soft mounds against his cheeks.

somehow, toji always made you late for work. you could never say no to him — not when he was so warm and the bed always felt more comfy than usual. he’ll just say, “five minutes…” five turns ten, ten into fifteen… and before you know it, you’re thirty minutes late. hearing your boss’ mouth is not how you want to start your day.

“toji, c’monn.” you were shifting and twisting your body to no avail because toji wouldn’t let up. tilting his head up to see your face, toji blinks slowly and you think he looks so cute when he’s all sleepy. he lets out a loud huff, like you’re annoying him. “nah.”

“but toji—“

“don’t care. y’er stayin’ with me.”

his voice had that gruff, husky tone like it always did when he just woke up, he knew the effect it had on you. his calloused hands caressed your hips, his tender touch made you want to melt into his arms but no! you couldn’t give in!

“can’t. boss has been on my ass lately, don’t want to give her another—“

“what did i just say, girl?” he interrupts again, chortling at the unamused look on your face. you were so annoyed with his sassy ass. “y’er stayin. don’t wanna hear any excuses.”

rolling your eyes, you lift a hand to his cheek, leaning down to give him a soft peck. “give me one good reason why i should stay with with your annoying ass.”

“so mean, baby. like gracin’ you with my presence isn’t enough.” he joshed, a hand on his chest like he was really hurt by your comment. “tch, alright. i’ll pay you for the day, how’s that sound?”

you tapped your index finger on your chin, humming as you shook your head. “hmm, okay.. gonna need more than that, hun.”

toji lifts an eyebrow, pausing for a moment before he smiled devilishly, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “and i’ll eat yer pussy ‘till you cry for me to stop—“

“deal!” your hands scrambled to find your phone in the silk sheets, ignoring toji’s laughter as you quickly dialed your boss’ number, skipping out the room to tell a well-crafted lie.

toji could only shake his head, not at all surprised by your quick reaction. “nasty girl.”

the hoe house: @rintcrous @90ekz @honeybleed @nysrage @vixensajntz @hyunip @screampied @zuriayan @tishlvr @black-yn @loccka6 @chile-im-embarrassed @dxddykenn @sheluvzeren @viisgrave @xocherishxo @vipprincessblog @prettypixigrl @sugxrbxbyqueen @fuyuswifey @iikatsukii @pinkprintzz @astrokatsuki @qupidology @smolchubbygoddess @juicepouchhh @saraiitrue @screampied (tagging you bc i feel like you'll love this!)

join the hoe house here. ♡

@/hoesluvshanti, 2023-2024. do not copy, steal or repost my content without permission.

#shanti's stories⋆˙⟡♡#jjk fluff #toji x black!reader #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji zenin

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peachesofteal · 4 months

Text

Help I'm Alive

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Threesome - M/M/F. Praise kink. Past relationship trauma. Mention of an accident, drunk driving. Pre-relationship, complicated feelings. Simon and Darling heavy. This is a flashback and takes place before Chapter 1, after Calculation Theme.

You’re decidedly not checking the clock.

It’s only five minutes. Five minutes late is not a huge deal. Traffic exists, so does minor inconvenience, little snafus that get in the way of making it somewhere on time. Five minutes, is not the end of the world. Be rational, you chide yourself. You’re a big girl. Still, they’re never late. Neither one of them. Your bag, primly sitting on the ground near where your foot taps impatiently, agrees. You packed me for what? For them not to show? For them to forget? Sure, it’s been nearly two weeks. Sure, they promised. But honestly. What did you expect? They’re in love with each other. Not you. You close your eyes, avoiding the screen of your phone. This is what happens, when you get ahead of yourself. When you act like a lunatic, instead of a rational human being. It’s fine, it's fine. You’re okay. You tap at it, waiting. Watching. Tap, tap, tap. Did you miss something, did you miss a call, did you read it wrong, get it wrong, hear it wrong, miss- Knuckles rap against your door. Your stomach unties itself, unloops from the twisted rollercoaster, and you release a long-held breath. See?

“H-hi.” The greeting comes out in a stumble, tongue tripping over itself doing nothing to hide your surprise. “I thought Johnny was picking me up?” Simon raises an eyebrow. “He ran into a complication. With dinner.” He motions to where you’re standing in the doorway, staring, and you balk. “Oh. Right. Yes, come in, sorry.” You glance around your flat. “It’s a bit of a mess, I’m sorry. I was busy this week and trying to paint in my downtime, I guess I kind of got distracted from like, normal day stuff you know? Like I-“ “Darling.” Simon calls, big body practically blocking out the frame of the door. It’s not just a pet name now. It’s something more. It’s a million different things, built into two syllables, and sometimes when he says it, the world stops. “Are you alright?” There's concern in the question, in his face, and you swallow. “Yeah.” You assure him, because you are. Today. This week. Last. You’ve been fine. “Are you sure?” “Yes, Simon.” You quip, with an eye roll, and there’s a sharp intake of breath behind the mask, fire and metal and something you can’t explain flashing in his eyes. It forces your spine straight, your thighs together. “Are you packed?” He murmurs, stepping closer, leaning down, clothed lips pressing to the top of your head. “Yes.” You whisper, half pointing to the bag, half reaching for his jacket. “Let’s get you home, then. Johnny’s impatient.”

“How've ye been?” Johnny coos, mouth hovering over your ear. He's got you pressed to his body, coveted, chest to your back, curled over you like a mountain. He's warm, skin hot to the touch, and a little flushed, strands of grown out mohawk tickling your chin. He's been fussing over you for ten minutes, peppering you with kisses, lovely words, physical touch and affection. It feels so safe, so real. It's hard to remember that it's not, in these moments. That you're on the outside. That you're not a part of them. “Good.” You answer. “Missed you guys.” “We missed ye too, darling. So much. Ah thought about ye everyday.” Your eyes roll on instinct, trying to play it off, but your heart trips, mind and body working itself into a state over the idea that he was even thinking about you. “We both did.” Simon's finger trace over your shoulder, before they tilt your face upwards by your jaw. “We have a surprise for you.” “For me?” You squeak, and Johnny chuckles, mouth in your hair, on your neck, teeth against your earlobe. “Aye, love. For ye. Only for ye.” “What… what is it?” “You'll have to wait.” Simon tells you gently, and your face screws up into a pout. “Til when?” “Until I say.”

“Close yer eyes.” Johnny tells you, and your stomach tightens, storm brewing in your mind. What are they doing? What's going on? “D'ye trust us?” You nod. Simon cocks his head, brow furrowed, but stays quiet. He looks almost… stressed. Upset, even, and it does nothing to quell your anxiety. “You're not gonna like… do something… weird, right? We talked about boundaries and stuff…” Johnny chuckles, pressing his lips to your collarbone, your neck, achingly slow, slow enough that you can feel the imprint of his smile, the shiny flats of his teeth. “No, love. We'd never cross yer boundaries.” He promises, but it's not enough, and you fidget, shifting on your knees, fingers clenching into palms. You look to Simon. He's watching you now, very seriously, but with something softer in his eyes. Something almost sweet, something that feels like a tether, a rope, tied around your heart and tugged tight, something full of promise. Johnny mirrors it, but more openly, easily, and you take a deep breath. You trust them. You're okay. It's okay. You close your eyes. Johnny's hand covers your face, blocking out the residual light. It only last for a second or two before there are more hands on you, cupping your jaw, lifting your head backwards. Lips touch yours. Then they ask for more, and you meet it equally, parting to allow him exploration, tongue inside you, smell of his skin in your nose. Simon. The pressure across your face relents, light coming back to try to peek beneath your eyelids, but you keep them shut, almost tightly so, like you were asked. This, you can do. This, you can give them. “Open your eyes darling.” Simon asks, and your mouth draws downward. “It's alright.” When you do, you can't control the smile that stretches across your face. You're looking up at Simon's face. His whole face, no mask, no cover of darkness. You're looking at the scar on his cheek, the one near his lower lip, stories etched into his skin, sliced into his memory forever. You're looking at a twice broken nose, a five o'clock shadow. You're looking his jawline, etched from stone, plush lips that have brushed over your body in the night, quirked to the side into a small smile. You're looking at the man who made you feel seen, made you feel understood, all without ever letting you see his face. “Hi, Darling.” He murmurs, still cupping one of your cheeks, thumb working methodically across your skin. Johnny laughs, the sound surprising inside the intense moment, and you blink in near shock when Simon fully smiles, revealing his teeth. “Surprise.”

Simon’s face is not the last surprise of the night.

The next one comes decidedly quick, after he hauls you to your feet and Johnny carries you to the bedroom, sitting you upright on the edge of the bed. His hands don’t lose contact, continuing to skim over your clothes, your hair until Simon steps forward, bending over your body, two palms splayed across your thighs.

“You’re so good for us, darling.” He tells you at the same as he urges you onto your back, feet still dangling over the end of the mattress. “Such a good girl. We’re so happy we found you.”

Skilled fingers work the buttons of your pants, and a mouth, Johnny’s, lingers across your cheek, down to your neck. He’s shirtless now, a change you hadn’t even noticed, and you look at the two of them, trying to discern the direction. To understand. Johnny kisses you over and over, laughing with a whisper when you whine, the throaty chuckle warm, soft. Luxurious enough you could get lost in it, Simon smiling when he hears it, something you’re not used to seeing at all, the sight of making neurons light up across the switchboard in your head. His mouth notches to yours, and then to Johnny’s, and when he comes up for air, he licks his lips with a smirk. “Take off your pants.” You do, quickly. Johnny follows suit, and then so do the rest of your clothes, thong, boxers, shirts, your bra, until you’re both fully naked, on your back again, in the bed. The covers have been pulled down, so you’re between the sheets, Johnny on his side next to you, fingertip stroking patterns into your body, flicking over your nipples, your ears, bellybutton. He glances at Simon, the look too lingering to be inconsequential, and then his touch resumes, pattering over the scar on your hip. “What is this from?” Simon murmurs, lips dotting your throat, and your stomach tightens. Fuck.

“It’s from an accident.” You automatically move to cover it with your hand when he snatches it out of the air, pinning you by your wrist against the bed.

“Ye dinnae need to hide anything from us, love.” Johnny’s thumb traces over the puckered line, the raw, raised flesh that gnarly and disgusting, an awful thing. An awful reminder.

“I’m not it’s… it’s from a car accident. I was a passenger.”

“When?” Simon demands, but still manages to sound gentle.

“A few years ago. My- my ex-boyfriend was driving. He… was drunk.” You take a deep breath. “We were leaving a friend’s place. I didn’t want to get in the car with him, I thought… I thought he was too intoxicated. He convinced me, I guess. He was mean about it,” Johnny blows out a startled breath, and his hand flexes. “and then- he wrecked. Spun out into a guardrail, hit another car. I…” You trail off, Simon nodding to encourage you. “I lost consciousness and when I woke up, he was gone, and I was… bleeding. Pretty bad. Had to be transported to hospital.”

“He left you there?” You shrug. Something insane flickers across Simon’s face, something terrifying, and it’s enough to make you shift next to Johnny, instinctively seeking the heat of his body, Simon’s expression softening when he notices. “Thank you, for telling us darling. I know it’s not easy to talk about something like that.”

“Oh.” You don’t know why you say it, the oh. It kind of leaks out, sneaking past your lips. Oh, for the gratitude. Oh, for the acknowledgment, Oh, for the feelings that are spilling over inside your heart, mixing with lust and affection and something much deeper, more confusing.

“Are ye alright?” Johnny asks, cuddling you close with a kiss. You hum into it.

“Yes, I… it was a while ago, I’m okay.” It’s mostly true, but you consider yourself lucky when neither of them continues to push the subject, and Simon moves onto something else, teeth and tongue now painting a swath down your side, your hip. He kisses the healed gash, and your thighs press together.

“Open.” He taps, and you giggle, nervous, but move your heels wide, letting your knees fall open. Simon groans. “Look at you.” His face lowers to your cunt, mouth just over where your clit is aching, breath blowing across your skin in a warm, gentle way that feels nearly damp, more so when he licks a lengthy stripe from bottom to top, making you gasp, palm smacking down into the sheets.

“Isn’t she so perfect?” Johnny’s mouth sucks a mark into your chest between his words, and Simon’s tongue circles around your clit in response, your chest heaving, mind already starting to swim, lightly overwhelmed. Not perfect. Not good. The thoughts occur so rapidly, humiliatingly so, that you squirm a little, eyes opening to fix to on the ceiling. They don’t know you. They have no idea. Don’t get this confused. Don’t get lost in this, don’t-

“What is today’s date?” Simon interrupts the runaway train barreling through your skull, and you reel for a moment.

“Friday, it’s Friday.” He pauses, mouth hovering over your cunt, eyes fixed on yours.

“The date.” He prompts, and you rattle it off, Johnny cupping your cheek, tender concern in his eyes.

“How old are ye darling?” That one is simpler, it doesn’t require thinking, and you answer immediately, hoping to assuage the rising disquiet in the room.

“I’m okay.” You assure. Simon cocks his head and stands, rising over both you and Johnny, rubbing a thumb against your temple.

“Get lost for a bit? In here?” You nod. “Want us to turn it off?” Your eyes widen. How does he know?

“Yes. Please.” He kisses you under your neck, tonguing your pulse, slow and steady movement calming the rapidity of your heartbeat, the roar and rush of your blood becoming molasses, slowing down until it feels like you’re dying, like the world is grinding to a halt, everything in the room falling away until it’s just you, and Johnny, and Simon, bodies folded and melted together into a six armed monster, tongue and teeth and the gnashing of jaws. You wrap a hand around Johnny’s cock, tugging at him, thumb dabbing over the red, pulsing head, drips of precome smearing down his length as you stroke your fist up and down.

“Fuck.” You breathe when Simon plunges a finger, and then two, inside you, Johnny working his own fingers across your clit with aching accuracy, muscles seizing in fire and pleasure with every passing second. The world goes dark inside closed lids, and then Simon is cradling your face.

“Look at me.” Simon instructs, as Johnny moves, shifting so you’re more propped up in his arms, wide open mouth across your jaw, holding you. For what? He’s usually where Simon is, you muse, a little dazed, a little bit wondering. Everything feel feverish, imbalanced, like a scale is tipping, leaning too far to one side and taking you with it, until Simon climbs over your body, and you feel the blunt head of his cock against you.

Oh.

You gasp. It slips out, spurred on by the imbalance, and he freezes in response, eyes wondering, waiting.

He asks your name.

You give it before he gets a chance to finish speaking, and then he fucks you.

It’s slow, and wild, at the same time, your mind fracturing as your jaw drops open, fractured words fighting their way up your throat. He's so big, sting of the stretch searing inside your pussy, like he's burning you, lighting you on fire the same time as he's wringing delicious pleasure from your body.

“How does he feel, love?” Johnny whispers, a hand holding yours. Grounding you, letting you squeeze him, snarled breath spitting from your nose as Simon moves deeper and deeper, nearly kissing your cervix.

“Fu- big.” You hiss, Johnny nodding, brows knitted.

“Ah know, ah know. Ye can take him, darling. Ye were made for us.” Simon grinds to a halt when he bottoms out, and you keen, curling forward, looking up at where they kiss one another, tangling together and returning to you, Simon’s nose against yours, his lips against yours, your body adjusting to him, splinters of pain and pressure turning into sublime floating feelings, walls convulsing around him, squeezing him just like you’re still doing to Johnny’s cock.

“There you go.” He encourages. “Just like that. You’re so- bloody tight, fuck.” You trace his jaw, his naked, unmasked jaw, with your free hand, as Johnny reaches down between you, finding your clit again, wet fingers circling through the sopping mess, the slick and the slide of Simon slowly moving in and out of you, both of them building tension and pleasure through your body. Johnny nips at your throat, and you twitch, legs coming around Simon, eyes finding his in the low light.

“We’ve got you, love.” He keeps fucking you, harder and faster as he talks, words building a wave in your chest, emotion swelling beneath your skin. “We see you.” No. No, no. You close your eyes, trying to cinch them shut, block it all out, fight off the tears, but Simon stops at the same time, and so does Johnny. “Look at me.” He says, and when you do, your lashes are wet.

“P-please. Don’t stop.” He draws back, nearly all the way, Johnny’s finger hovering right over your swollen clit, your entire body aching.

“Don’t hide from us, and I won’t.” Fuck. You stare at him, hopelessly, tears continuing to swell, heavy, heartsick feelings thrumming through your veins, and he pinches your jaw between a thumb a forefinger when you try to turn away. “No.” He grunts, slamming into you, and you curl into Johnny, eyes wide. “Let me see them, darling.” Simon demands, grinding his hips against yours. See what? See- His tongue lavishes your cheek, licking where your tears track across your skin, and you choke, shocked, elated, confused… millions of things and feelings and forbidden moments exploding, erupting the same time Johnny presses harder against your clit, all of it shattering inside you.

“Ah, ah- fuck, I’m-“ You seize, coming with an intensity that makes your head spin, and Simon fucks you through it, Johnny still stroking your clit at a brutal pace through the peak.

“Bloody hell.” He falters briefly, before thrusting deep with such an intensity you can hardly breath, cock battering into your body, Johnny murmuring something sweet in your ear, while bucking into your relaxed fist, looking for friction around his cock. You tighten around him, at the same time Simon makes a strangled noise, his face buried in your neck, entire body trembling as he comes, fills you with himself, sealing his hips to yours with a huff.

“Darling.” He kisses you, knocking his forehead into yours, and wraps his hand around where your fist strokes Johnny. He’s close, panting, staring down at the two of you, one hand in Simon’s hair, the other on your cheek. It doesn’t take long, Simon’s hips jerking when Johnny’s do, and you moan, creamy spend spilling over your fingers.

“Christ.” He collapses, curling around you, around Simon, three of you linked together, three pieces of a puzzle you're not sure how to solve, Simon licking your hand clean, wet sloppy kisses swallowing Johnny’s come until he’s satisfied, and tucking you into his chest.

“Wow.” You breathe. They both chuckle, and you let your eyes close, falling into a white fluffy cloud, purely content, happy. You feel cherished, special, and Johnny rubs your back, little kisses against your ear as Simon runs a warm washcloth between your legs.

“Bathroom?” Simon asks, and you nod, but reach for him instead, pulling him close.

“Can we just, stay here for a second?” He wraps himself around your back, tucking you between his body and Johnny’s, mouth against your scalp.

“For a second.”

#dead disco #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghoap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #john soap mactavish #soap x ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish

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thesunisatangerine · 6 months

Text

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part five

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, angst (i'm sorry)

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.2k

Today’s the day you were going to talk to Alexia about it.

You had about two weeks left of your additional three weeks and with each passing day, your stay in Barcelona was drawing to a close and Alexia knew it, too. During the period of time you’d gotten to know her to now, Alexia’d put in the same effort in trying to get to know what you did outside of sports photojournalism. You’d told her, of course, and even showed her photos of your previous photojournalistic coverage, although you’d kept the more graphic ones away from her.

Despite the fact that she had jokingly tried to convince you to stay in sports photojournalism, Alexia had been nothing but supportive of your job. The thing was, she just didn’t know yet what it was you’d be returning to: you just got word that you–among other colleagues–were bound to head over to a conflict zone in a region going through civil unrest and military aggression. But it wasn’t like the thought never crossed your mind.

Sports photography had been a welcome reprieve from the violence and depravity that came with human conflict, a typical scene to witness while on the field. And although unplanned, Alexia had played a part in your enjoyment with this side-project–so much so that it was on top of your list for alternative careers down the line. Be that as it may, you knew deep down that you wouldn’t trade your current career for anything else.

This was what you wanted to talk to Alexia about. Well… among other things but you wanted to ease her into the conversation with a home-cooked meal and a gift. Even though it was difficult to do with Alexia around, you were able to finish making the latter a few days ago. The gift was something similar to the one she gave you: a bracelet with the colors of the flag of your country and instead of a diamond, you used a small, silver, hollow rectangular charm to represent you and your camera. And with that dealt with, you only needed to grab the ingredients for the former which brought you out to Mercat del Centre on this fine Barcelona highnoon.

With paper bags of groceries in hand, you were thinking of grabbing something from that sushi place you’d passed on the way to the market but just as you turned the corner, you saw three women walking ahead a few paces away with their backs turned to you.

They were all wearing matching tank shirts, shorts, and ankle socks but the one with the cap stood out to you and instantly, you recognised it to be Alexia. Knowing that and from the Barcelona matches that you’d been to, you recognised that it was Mapi and Patri flanking her.

Excitement filled you immediately although you wondered for a second what they were doing there until you realised that Estadi Johan Cruyff was only a few blocks away. The instinct to call out Alexia’s name and reach out for her didn’t go unnoticed by you but you managed to stop yourself in time before you accidentally did.

The both of you never really talked about where the both of you stood and there was no clear label for the nature of your relationship. If someone had asked you this when you just met her over two months ago, the answer would’ve been clear; it was merely physical with a dose of infatuation. Now, it was more than just sex to you: you wanted her in every possible way, you wanted to know and to be known by her, you wanted to be the person she’d tell about the most mundane of things to–to be the person she’d allow to fall for her because you already know you were on the brink of falling. So apart from your job situation, this question was the other half of the conversation you wanted to have with her.

Though you meant to go to the same direction, you didn’t want to risk Alexia noticing you not because you didn’t want her to or that you were afraid she’d ignore you–no, you just didn’t want to accidentally interrupt her time with her teammates. She’d come to you later anyway so you’d just tell her about this then. You were just about to turn around when something in their conversation got your attention.

“So, Ale, are you dating that photographer?” Patri asked, her question oozed of mischief.

“What photographer?” Alexia replied with a flat tone.

Mapi snickered. “You’re too smart to play dumb and when you do it on purpose you just sound stupid.”

For that, she got a punch to the shoulder from Alexia but Mapi only giggled.

“Fine, fine. And, no, I’m not.”

“Oh, come on, Ale! If she’s not, then why does she always take the best photos of you? Right, Patri?” Mapi whined.

“Exactly! Oh, remember those matches when you weren’t even on the pitch? And the way she always looks at you after a match? I’d say that’s something!” Then as if she just had an epiphany, Patri’s eyes widened, hand clapping over her opened mouth. “Wait! Unless…”

Patri didn’t even need to finish her sentence, her suggestive tone was enough to communicate what she meant by it and your ears burnt at the implication.

“Oh, shit. Are you, you know?” Mapi exclaimed, finally catching on, eyes just as wide as Patri’s.

“Keep your voices down, assholes,” Alexia growled in annoyance then she grumbled something you couldn’t quite hear. In response, the other two women just laughed.

“Love you, too, Cap,” Mapi said in a saccharine tone.

Alexia sighed. “Okay. Yes. Are you happy now?”

The other two women hooted and patted Alexia on the back.

“Ha! I knew it!” Patri exclaimed.

“Do you like her though?” Mapi’s question stilled your breath as you anticipated Alexia’s answer.

“No,” Alexia shook her head and she shrugged. “She means nothing to me.”

“Ouch! Not even considering dating?”

“I can’t deal with that right now.”

“Damn… So does that mean she’s one of your girls, then? And here I thought you finally stopped.”

“I’m not even going to answer that.”

You didn’t hear anything after that. Alexia’s words rooted you to the spot and you watched as the three of them walked on.

She means nothing to me. She’s one of your girls. She means nothing to me. She’s…

Those same words echoed in your mind in a ruthless cycle but what stuck to you the most was the way Alexia said them. You’d never heard her that cold… that detached. Your hands shook, a chill ran up your spine and you shivered while the world blurred in front of you.

You brought a hand to your eyes and felt warm tears on your fingers.

Oh.

And without even asking you got the answer to your question.

––––––

The moment Alexia stepped foot into the house that night, you grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket and pulled her down for a searing kiss. She gasped in surprise as you pushed her against the door and you took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, your fingers now tangled in her hair while your front was pressed firmly against her.

It wasn’t enough.

You bit and tugged her lower lip before you nipped a path along her jaw down to the base of her throat where you sucked at her pulse point. Her muscles responded and rippled beneath your palms when you traced their lines along her sides and stomach under her shirt while Alexia gasped and moaned from your touch.

It wasn’t enough.

By the time the both of you reached the bed, you’d stripped Alexia off her clothes. She landed on her back on the bed when you pushed her, gasping as she did so, and you immediately crawled on top of her. Wasting no time, you sucked and marked the expanse of skin in front of you: her neck, her chest, her breasts, her stomach. You nipped and bit as Alexia writhed and keened beneath you.

It wasn’t enough.

When you felt her large hands along your sides trying to tug the hem of your shirt to strip it off you, you grabbed her wrists and pinned them on either side of her head–a rejection to her offer, one that you never thought you’d do around Alexia. But just the thought of being completely naked made you shudder, and not in a good way. So you pressed a bare leg against her core to distract her to which Alexia keenly responded to by arching against you while her wetness burnt like a brand against your skin there.

It wasn’t enough.

When Alexia cried out your name while your fingers worked deep in her core, neck straining and muscles tensing, the pit in your chest only seemed to yawn wider and dug deeper.

It wasn’t enough.

When Alexia clung to you as she dozed off with her soft breath caressing your clothed stomach, tears burnt in the corners of your eyes as you watched her glow in her slumber, so peaceful and beautiful. Emotions bubbled in the base of your throat, a string of words coiled themselves tighter around your tongue, but something else burnt in your throat that you found difficult to swallow.

In your desperation to get closer–to make Alexia forget about whoever else that she was sleeping with–you’d used sex as a tool for possession not for intimacy, and the streak of shame that that knowledge left behind pained you more than you could ever thought it could. You weren’t like this. This wasn’t a person you wanted to become, especially when it came with Alexia.

But… you wanted more.

You wanted so much more.

But wasn’t this what you already convinced yourself of? Deep down, you knew all too well that this was too good to be true–too good of a love to be yours.

You brushed away a lock of blonde hair from Alexia’s temple, admiring the strong slope of her nose, the fierce slant of her eyebrows, the gentle curves of her eyelids, the elegant bow of her lips. You soaked as much of her as you could because this would be the last time you’d be able to see her like this.

It was a blur, the journey back from the marketplace to the house earlier today, and your mind was a cacophony of words but a single thought was in clarity: you needed to leave. So the moment you got back, you did two things: you emailed Derek and booked your flight home.

There were no details included in the email you sent to your brother as to why you were coming back early–it was extremely unprofessional but an apology was the only thing you could come up with. You’d never not seen a project through to the end no matter the circumstance but this was different; you felt as though you were more equipped to navigate mortal peril than this dance with Alexia so leaving was the only option.

Tomorrow at midnight, you’d be gone, two weeks ahead of schedule. You didn’t know if Alexia would get here tomorrow before you depart but that was a question for then. For now, you would allow yourself to savour this moment when Alexia was still right here beside you for the final time.

You brought one of her hand to your lips and pressed a light kiss against her knuckles.

A line from a poem fleeted through your mind.

these, our bodies, possessed by light

––––––

Everything was already packed by the time early evening came and even though the caretaker was scheduled to come early tomorrow, you made a point to check around for anything important you might have forgotten and to ensure you’d sufficiently tidied up after yourself. Finally satisfied, you went downstairs and just after you ordered an Uber to take you to the airport, a knock came to the door and the door handle turned.

Shit.

“Hey, the door’s unlocked! Look, I didn’t know what you wanted to eat since you didn’t text me back so I just grabbed us some–”

Alexia’s voice floated into the room and as she passed through the doorway with her bag of takeaways in one hand, she stopped in her tracks as she saw you and your luggage. Then her face turned cloudy, concern and a question in her eyes.

Her hair was still damp, cheeks still flushed from training, and you longed to reach out to tuck that loose hair behind her ear but instead, you clenched your fists at your sides as you watched her mouth open a few times before she seemed to finally settle on what to say.

“Is… everything alright?” She regarded your luggage for a moment longer before she met your eyes again.

“Yes.”

It was only one word but your voice trembled nonetheless, and you hated that it did. Alexia’d must have heard something in your tone because her brows furrowed even further as understanding began to seep in.

“You’re–” Alexia’s throat bobbed, “you’re leaving now?”

“Yes.”

As each second passed, you could see the way Alexia’s walls began to climb.

“You said it’s not until after two weeks–”

“I lied.”

At that, the remaining warmth in her eyes flitted away and left her hazel eyes flat and cold. Then she scoffed, hurt clear in her voice when she asked, “were you even planning to say goodbye?”

A heavy silence settled in the air; an answer in and of itself. You could feel the distance between the both of you widen as the moment stretched on, the air so thick from tension it hurt to even breathe. Then a notification from your phone disrupted the quiet and it gave you an excuse to divert your eyes from Alexia’s.

Your Uber just arrived. You sent the driver a quick message to wait, that you’d pay them for the time, before you faced the music again. Clearing your throat, you moved to get the paper bag addressed to ‘Ale’ from the counter–the one you originally planned to leave by the door once you’d left–then you stood just out of arm’s reach from Alexia and offered her the bag.

“Before I forget, here.”

Alexia’s eyes bore into yours before she eventually dragged them down to the bag in your hand. She placed the takeaways beside her feet before she grabbed the bag in your hand, her fingertips brushed against the skin of your knuckles and you fought the urge to flinch away.

You watched as she peered inside and you bit your lip as you hoped she wouldn’t see the pictures and the letters you wrote; it was bad enough she got here before you left to begin with, how much worse could this get if she saw them in front of you. Oh, how you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Once she stuck her hand inside to grab something, you held your breath. Then you saw the way her jaws worked at what she found inside. She lifted it enough for you to catch a glimpse of it over the edge of the bag: blue and scarlet, her Barcelona jersey.

Alexia sucked in a breath, ragged, before she breathed out with a trembling voice. “Oh.”

“I did promise I was going to return it.”

She looked up at you, her eyes now glazed over and you were sure with the way your eyes burnt that yours were just as red.

“Why?”

There were so many ways you could answer her question, the words because I could fall in love with you were poised at the tip of your tongue but you bit it off before they could slip out and leave you more vulnerable than you already were.

“Because… it was fun while it lasted. No strings attached, right?” The words sounded so cruel to you and immediately, you wanted to take them back. To reduce those moments with her and the memories that were now permanently a part of you to a passing fling felt abysmally wrong. You wanted nothing more than to step into her embrace, to tell her how much she’d come to mean to you, to tell her that you could fall for her if she’d just let you… but you never really had a chance did you? You knew that now and you couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t want more.

Alexia’s jaw worked again as her chin quivered, her tongue skimmed over the corner of her lips, a habit you noticed she did when she was upset–whenever she wanted to stop herself from crying.

“Is this it, then?” She whispered the question and at that, a tear fell down your cheek.

“I guess it is.”

And in the silence that followed, as if guided by an invisible force, your hand began to reach out for Alexia but your presence of mind came back to you and you quickly retracted it. Instead, you grabbed your two bags and began to head out the door. You passed by her and you were already a few steps away when you heard Alexia speak.

“Will I ever see you again?”

You knew she knew the answer to it; you knew she wanted you to say otherwise.

You didn’t turn back when you said, “goodbye, Alexia. Take care of yourself.”

––––––

The flight back home was nothing short of a fever dream: one minute you were at Barcelona-El Prat Airport nursing your head in one of the bathroom stalls as you cried, the next your plane was touching down at your home country’s landing strip.

Derek was there to pick you up and he looked like he was about to bombard you with questions but upon seeing the state of you, his gaze softened, brows furrowing in concern and there–in place of your business partner from a moment ago–was your brother.

He pulled you into a tight hug and you closed your eyes revelling in his comforting scent while you willed yourself not to cry. Although his arms brought solace to your aching heart, the ones you longed to hold you belonged to someone who was a thousand miles away.

Over the next few days following your arrival, you ignored everything and went off the grid, deleting the social media apps on your phone lest the temptations would convince you to check how Alexia was doing. So instead, you busied yourself with catching up with your mother and your friends, and buried yourself with work while Derek hovered in the background, protective and concerned but respectfully giving you time to come around and tell him what happened.

You told yourself you would–that it could wait a little longer. But you never got around to it because the next thing you knew, you, Gilda, and Jones were on air to the conflict zone for journalistic coverage. Once your plane landed, the current malaise from your personal life seemed infinitesimal for it was nothing compared to the afflictive catastrophe of war.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: im so sorry #also an extra round of apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes for this one #hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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reasonsforhope · 6 months

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I can't take the state of the world anymore, every day things constantly get worse and there's literally nothing we can do. Every time things get better they're immediately undone by forces more powerful than us. I just want things to go back to the way they were before when it felt like there was hope, now it feels like humanity is doomed and will never, ever get better. I just want to die so I can finally know peace from this evil.

Hey. I'm really, really sorry you're having such a hard time. That sounds like an incredibly painful headspace to be in.

Please find someone you can talk to and who can help you - whether that's a peer counselor or a good friend or a trained mental health professional. Especially a trained mental health professional, if you can. You can find a really thorough list of crisis hotlines listed by country here.

Also, I realllllly recommend getting off any websites or social media that are contributing to you feeling like this, or at least block all the people/tags posting things that are making you feel like this. Negativity bias is real - the news/internet doesn't accurately reflect the world and neither does the way your brain perceives it

In the meantime, a few quick words/facts of comfort. I hope they can give you at least some reassurance or solace.

We literally have more reason to hope we can solve climate change than ever before x

Starting about six months ago, major international energy reports have come out for the first time showing that we have a visible, concrete path to staying under 1.5 degrees celsius x

Twenty, even ten years ago, scientists talked about whether we could possibly manage to limit global warming to 4 or 5 degrees Celsius. Now, those numbers aren't even on the map - we're talking 1.5 or 2 degrees Celsius. We've cut expected warming in half in under a decade x

Renewable energy is growing so exponentially it's now "unstoppable" x

Two hundred years ago, in 1800, there wasn't a single "liberal democracy" - a democracy that gives all citizens the right to vote - on the planet. Just over one hundred years ago, in 1900, there were five of them. Today, roughly half the countries (aka roughly 100) on the planet fall into this category. International politics is so often two steps forward, one step back, but this is actually an astonishing pace of progress in the grand scheme of things x

For all of human history, until just over 200 years ago, roughly half of all children died. Across times, across cultures. Half of all children died by the age of 15. Half of them. Today, globally, that same child mortality rate is only 4%. We did that. We changed what was previously an eternal, inescapable, and horrific condition of human existence, and we are going to keep making that rate go down x

Two steps forward, one step back, is still moving forward. There are so, so, so many reasons that we are not already doomed. There are so many reasons to think the future is going to be bright

To anyone struggling with thoughts like this: please, please give yourself the chance to see it

#Anonymous #ask #me #I am so so not a trained mental health professional or qualified to help people with this stuff #please talk to people who are qualified to help with stuff like this instead!#climate change #climate anxiety #climate hope #child mortality #humanity #good news #hope #cw sui ideation #cw sui mention #depression #climate grief #climate crisis #climate news #hope posting

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mint-yooxgi · 7 months

Text

{15} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour, Smut

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Hongjoong)

Words: 23,108

Warnings: OC get her makeup done (I based it on my own routine, please don't @ me). Smut: Biting, Marking, Blood and semi-bloodletting, Knife Kink, Oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), slight orgasm control (if you squint), minor dom/sub dynamics and switch tendencies, one mention of Mistress, Begging (m. and f.), Overstimulation, Desperation, Squirting, Multiple Orgasms, Cockwarming (at the end), intense emotional intimacy. I think that's everything. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Finally! The moment you've all been waiting for! I really hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. This smut has been months in the making honestly, and he even surprised ME at times. I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen

A soft tune drifts through the silence of your room curtesy of you. Lowly, you hum to yourself, eyes focussing in on the task at hand. Meticulously, you turn the small products over on the table, making sure that everything is in its place, perfectly set up and ready to be used. All that’s left, is to begin.

Smiling down at your handy work, you give one final glance over the various brushes, containers, and bottles of various sizes and shapes. There is not a product you’ve missed laying out, save for one. However, if all goes according to plan, you’re saving that one for the very end.

Letting out a content sigh, you straighten back to your full height. The small table you’ve set up for this occasion rests before you. The black fold out chair, reminiscent of a director’s seat, stands proudly beside it.

Without wasting another moment, you sit down.

Joongie, The call of his name is nothing short of sweet as you drop your void for the moment, but only for him.

His red string hums with movement. Yes, My Love?

Are you busy? You make sure to keep your voice even, not letting on even the slightest bit as to what you have in mind.

Never too busy for you. Comes his earnest reply, and you can hear the pleasant hum in his tone as he says this.

You cannot help the way your lips pull upwards tenderly.

Well, when you’re free, come and see me. You say, making yourself more comfortable in your chair. I have a-

In the blink of an eye, he’s appeared in front of you. Lightly, he wipes his hands on his jeans, as if they’re still wet after having just washed them.

You chuckle lowly, finishing your thought out loud, “…Surprise for you.”

The first thing he notes as soon as he appears in your room is you sitting in that chair. Your one leg is crossed over the other as you lean back comfortably in your seat. That small table rests beside you, and he cannot help the small quirk of his brow as he takes note of the various makeup products placed meticulously on top of it.

The door to your room seems closed to give the both of you some privacy. One of the doors to the balcony rests open, letting in a gentle breeze as the curtains sway. Sunlight streams in, casting a warm glow on the surrounding area, and bathing you in golden hues as you smile at him.

There you sit, in a plain shirt and loose pants, looking as beautiful as ever.

“A surprise?” He grins, stepping in closer.

“A while back, Seonghwa told me that you’re a very skilled makeup artist.” You begin, meeting his gaze. “I was hoping to spend some time with you today.”

His heart warms, and he steps in closer. Gently, he places his hands onto the arms of the chair, leaning into you slightly. Not enough to crowd you. No, never. Yet, enough so that he can stare deeply into your eyes with a loving look of his own.

“Would you like for me to do your makeup, My Love?” There’s a slight teasing quirk to the corner of his lips, but you can hear how tender his inquiry actually is.

Gently, you bring your hands up to cup his face. “I would love nothing more.”

Leaning forward, you place a brief, loving kiss to his lips.

The smile that tugs at his features as he pulls away to look at you is nothing short of radiant. Almost immediately, he turns to the table, observing the products placed out before him carefully. Meticulously, he begins to roll up the sleeves of his button up shirt to his elbows, noting how your eyes briefly trail over his now exposed forearms. A subtle smirk tugs at his lips, and after nodding to himself, he grabs your moisturizer off of the top of the table. Opening the lid, he turns to face you once more.

“Is it okay if I touch-“

“Please.” You cut him off with a kind smile, sitting a little straighter in your chair.

Hongjoong cannot prevent the way his heart skips a beat, nothing but love swelling in his chest as he looks down at you. Carefully, he steps in closer, gathering a bit of the product on the tips of his fingers before he’s applying it smoothly to your skin.

“You don’t wear makeup often, My Love,” he hums, the caress of his touch nothing short of gentle. “What’s the occasion?”

You quirk a brow at him, your lips tugging upwards lovingly. “Can I not wish to spend time with a man I love?”

The way his touch physically trembles against you for a moment as his expression softens has your heart warming inside of your chest.

“You can spend as much, or as little, time with me as you desire, whenever you wish, My Love.” He meets your gaze, briefly shifting his hand to cup the side of your face. Softly, his thumb traces over your cheekbone. “As long as I get to call you mine.”

Turning your head, you place a tender kiss onto the palm of his hand. Your gaze is nothing but adoring as you glance at him through your lashes.

“Always, My Love.” Your reply is low, so as not to disturb the moment between the both of you. “Just as you will forever be mine.”

A content rumble escapes his chest then and there as he reluctantly pulls his hand away from you. Though, despite his best efforts, he cannot hide the way his fingers still tremble, even the slightest bit. Sharing this moment with you is like a dream come true, and the fact that you trust him enough to indulge in such an intimacy like this with him warms his heart more than you’ll ever know.

His soul has come alight, and it’s all because of you.

Capping the moisturizer, Hongjoong turns his attention back to the table of products beside you. His eyes scan over the contents carefully, eyebrows twitching slightly in recognition once he finds what he’s looking for. The liquid foundation is then plucked from the table top, and it takes no time at all for him to start applying it to your skin.

“There was also another reason I wished for you to do my makeup today,” your eyes glance to his own, noting how he seems quite focussed on the current task at hand.

He hums in response, wordlessly asking for you to continue.

“Seonghwa told me about the coronation we’ll eventually have for me when the time is right,” you admit. “I would love for you to do my makeup for when the celebration takes place.”

The slight hitch in his breath is audible as he pauses his movements for the time being. His eyes dart to your own before flitting all over your face, as if he’s memorizing every feature and committing this moment to memory for years to come. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes begin to shine with that all to familiar adoration and awe you’re so used to from him.

“You do?”

You smile gently, bringing your own hand up to cup the side of his face. “Of course, My Love. I wasn’t lying to you when I said I was ready to become Your Queen.”

Leaning forward, he nearly presses his forehead to yours before stopping himself. Instead, he opts to take your hand in his, bringing the back up to his lips to place a loving kiss onto your skin.

“My Queen,” he breathes, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “When the time comes, I would be honoured.”

The smile that stretches across your features is nothing short of brilliant, and Hongjoong swears the room gets even brighter in the light of the afternoon sun. His whole being floods with nothing but love for you, awe and wonder clear in his gaze as he returns to making sure to apply the foundation evenly over your skin.

The giggle that you let out is music to his ears.

“I know I’ve said it before,” You begin as he turns back to the table beside you in order to grab your stick of toner, “but I truly am lucky to have you, Hongjoong.”

The popping of the seal on your toner is synonymous with the way his breath catches in his throat.

“My Love, it is I who is lucky to have you.” He replies earnestly, managing to pull himself back to reality and lightly begin applying the toner to certain areas over your face.

You reach up to grasp his hand, causing him to pause in his movements for the moment. Your gaze is unfaltering as you meet his own, making sure he knows how serious the next words that fall from your lips are.

“You are the greatest blessing I have ever received in my entire life, Hongjoong.” You breathe. “I hope you never forget that.”

His expression softens, and you can see the beginnings of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “My Queen.”

“We’ve already been through so much together, Hongjoong,” you squeeze his hand held in yours. “Things weren’t easy at the start, but looking back on it now…” This time, it’s your turn to swallow lightly, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His lips part in a silent gasp, and he swears that you can hear his heart beating within the stillness of your room.

“You have taught me what true happiness feels like.” You cup his hand in both of your own now, holding onto him tenderly as you continue staring deeply into his eyes. “I know what it’s like to be loved, and what it feels like to be in love. Hongjoong, you have saved me in more ways than I can count, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

He blinks back his tears, feeling his heart thundering away inside of his chest as he looks at you. Nothing could take this moment away from him right now. Absolutely nothing.

“You don’t have to thank me, My Love.” His voice is a little rough; strained from the sudden onslaught of emotions you’ve just given him.

“I know that’s what you think.” The soft upturn of your lips has his eyes instantly tracking the movement. “I just thought you should know what you mean to me.” You squeeze his hand once more. “What you’ve done for me.”

“Anything.” He breathes. “I would do anything for you.”

Your heart swells inside of your chest at his response.

“I know, Joongie.” Slowly, you drop your hands back to rest in your lap. “And I will always do the same for you.”

There is no hesitance in your tone, nor falter in your voice as you speak these words. A fact of which that has his head spinning. Truly, this moment, and your admission, means the world to him, and he wouldn’t trade this feeling inside of his soul for anything.

Silence, brief and tender, surrounds the both of you as you stare deeply into each other’s eyes. That is, until Hongjoong is finally clearing his throat, seemingly snapping back to the task at hand. Not before sparing a glance at your lips first, of course.

“Is there a specific style of makeup you’d like to have for your coronation?” His voice nearly catches as he says those words, the full weight of what they imply settling over his entire being.

You said yes. You really are ready and willing to become their Queen. It’s no longer simply just a fantasy of theirs, but will soon become a reality. A reality they have all been longing for since the decision was made to crown you alongside them all those long months ago. Back before you had even truly known of their existence.

You tilt your head slightly, humming lightly, “Nothing too overtly dramatic.”

He huffs out a laugh at this, finishing off with your toner only to grab a blending sponge and start lightly dabbing at your face. His touch is nothing short of gentle as he ensures the toner is blended into your skin evenly before moving on from one area to the next.

“Are you sure, My Love?” His gaze flicks to your own, a teasing quirk to the corner of his lips. “Why not simply decimate everyone who attends with your ethereal beauty?”

This time, it’s your turn to huff out a laugh.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think a softer look might be more fitting for the outfit I have in mind.” Your eyes flutter shut as you say this, simply revelling in his touch as he finishes blending your toner into your skin.

“Outfit?” The quirk of his brow goes unnoticed by you momentarily as he reaches for a new brush and your container of blush.

Blinking your eyes open, you nod, a knowing gleam to your gaze that screams nothing but devious intent.

“It’s a surprise.” You wink, grin tugging onto your lips as you finally see that look of inquiry pulling at his features.

“Then, I look forward to whatever you have in mind.” He sighs, almost wistfully as he begins to apply the lightest dusting of blush to your cheeks.

“Well, I suppose I can give you a little hint,” You hum, noticing how he attempts to not look too eager. “Light tones would work best. Specifically, a blend of white and gold.”

His brow quirks, “White and gold?”

“Let’s just say I have something else in mind that even Seonghwa doesn’t know about yet.” You grin. “Well, if everything works out how I hope it will.”

“You are always full of pleasant surprises, My Love.” Hongjoong hums, closing the container of blush and swapping it for your mineralizer in the next second.

“I’ve got to keep you all on your toes somehow,” you giggle, wiggling your brows playfully at him. “You guys can’t always be the ones surprising me, you know.”

“Try as we might, I suppose you’re right.” He chuckles along with you. “That won’t stop us from trying, though.”

You smile, allowing your eyes to flutter shut once more as he begins to apply the product to your face. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

What you fail to see, though, is the fond look that settles onto Hongjoong’s features in that moment. However, you do feel the way his hand trembles once more against your cheek, the brush tickling over your skin as he finishes off with your mineralizer.

Feeling him pull away from you, you blink your eyes back open.

“I’ve been doing a little research myself these past few days,” You admit lowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze as a light heat rises to your cheeks.

“Oh?” His inquiry is soft, his full attention on you for the moment.

Neither him, nor his brothers, knew you had been looking into anything. It’s not unusual for you to spend your time in the library, browsing their own collections. The fact that Jongho didn’t mention anything means he either had no idea himself, or you swore him to secrecy.

Hongjoong meets your gaze, and he notices how your own eyes flash.

“Soul merging.”

The hitch in his breath is audible, synonymous with the way his whole body stiffens lightly.

“Have you-“ he swallows thickly.

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, lately.” You begin, thumbs suddenly brushing over one another nervously as you hold your hands in your lap. “I remembered what you all told me about it that one day and I got curious.” A moment’s pause where you swallow the building dryness in your throat. “I wanted to learn more.”

“My Love-“

“I know I could have just asked you all about it, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was broaching the subject with them to imply I was going to merge with them over another first.” You explain. “I also don’t want any of us to feel pressured into a decision like this. I understand you’ve all talked about such a…” you search for the right word, “delicacy before with one another, but I wanted to come to a better understanding about the subject myself.”

Hongjoong hums, “We do have a tendency to take certain liberties regarding certain excitements when it comes to you.”

You share a small chuckle with him. “You could say that again.”

“May I assume you were looking into it as more than just a meek curiosity, My Love?” His voice is soft; tender, as he gently grabs your hands into his own.

“Perhaps.” The slight upturn of your lips is nothing short of sweet. “Of all the accounts I found, none were of concern to me. I had to be sure there weren’t any negative side effects, or risks for me involved in such a process. I know none of you would ever lie to me about such a thing, but I wanted to come to this specific conclusion by myself. It’s a-“ your voice catches, and you know he can feel the way your hands are currently trembling within his own grasp right now, “It’s a big decision for me, not to mention a big change.” You blink, finally lifting your gaze to his own. “For me to become like you. I want to make sure you’re all ready, as well.”

“Whatever you decide, know that we will support you.” Nothing but sincerity shines behind Hongjoong’s eyes as he says this. Gently, he squeezes your hands. “Of course, we all have our own hopes and desires, but we would never force such a decision on you. It’s like we’ve always said,” he smiles softly, “we want you to want us in the same ways we want you. This sentiment has always, and will always, apply to every aspect of our lives together.”

You squeeze his hands back. “I will let you know when I’m ready to take that step with you. With all of you.”

“Oh?” There’s a light teasing quirk to his brow as he smiles. “So, the orgy isn’t off the table.”

A snort of laughter escapes you, and you extend your leg out to tap his shin with the tip of your slipper, as if you’re pretending to kick him. “Keep dreaming, Joong Bug.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, pulling away from you slightly as the tips of his ears begin to turn red, “Never say never. Look how much fun we all had together that day in the cinema room.”

Now, it’s your turn to splutter as he winks at you. A teasing grin pulls at his lips, and you’re glad he’s diverted his attention back to the table beside you for the moment. You don’t think you’d be able to sit still if he brought that up again. Especially not today, not with what you still have planned.

Shifting slightly, you notice him looking over all of your products with a slight frown on his face. Every which way, his eyes dart, seemingly scanning over the table in search of something.

“What’s wrong?” You tilt your head in inquiry, glad for the momentary distraction.

“You didn’t put any lip products out.” He observes. “I normally do lips next.”

“Ah, I only have the one colour.” You’re quick to explain, and from the way his whole body stiffens, you can tell he’s thinking back to that first dinner all those months ago.

Looks like you’re not the only one consumed by memories right now.

“Oh,” he swallows, somewhat thickly. “Should we plan a trip to get you more, then?”

Briefly, his gaze flicks over to your face, his hands hovering over the table as he begins to pull an eyeshadow palette off of the surface, along with another brush. Not even a moment later, he flicks the palette open, scanning over the various shades found within.

“No, that’s quite alright.” You smile, though with the way his attention is off of you for the moment, he fails to see the flash of excitement that lights up your eyes. “I figured it would be better to leave it out for now. I typically only wear red for two reasons, anyways.”

He turns back to you, gathering some eyeshadow onto the tip of the brush, “Oh?”

“One, and probably the most common,” you begin, eyelids fluttering closed as he steps into you once more, “I want to feel beautiful.”

It’s almost frightening how you can feel his hand pause right before your face, that brush mere millimetres from your eyelid.

“You are beautiful, My Love.” There is no room for argument in his tone, voice firm, and always, always so sincere.

A bashful smile pulls onto your features as a slight heat rises to your cheeks, “Thank you, Joongie.”

Gently, he continues. The soft press of the brush against your eyelid is almost synonymous with the light exhale you breathe out.

Hongjoong clears his throat, retracting that brush to gather more product onto it so he can dress your opposite eye. “And the other?”

“Oh, the second reason?” Your brow quirks, despite your eyes remaining closed.

“Yes.” He repeats the process, touch just as careful as the first time.

Only, you wait to respond. You can just tell that Hongjoong is holding his breath in anticipation. Except, it isn’t until he pulls away that you finally speak.

A sultry smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, your eyes flashing open and seemingly holding him captivated, “I want to seduce someone.”

The way his breath hitches is quite prominent, and you notice his hands begin to shake lightly once more. Then, a moment later, he seemingly composes himself, swallowing thickly as his gaze darts to your lips, “I see.”

All Hongjoong’s mind can supply him with now is that dinner all those months ago. He knows he shouldn’t, but he cannot help but to hold onto a hope that maybe, just maybe, you had worn that shade of lipstick that night for the second reason you have just divulged with him here.

It’s a long shot, but that will never stop him from dreaming. Besides, you’ve both come such a long way since then, so he’s holding on to an even bigger hope that the next time you do wear red, it will be for him.

“This applies to any time I wear something red, not just lipstick, by the way.” You mention casually.

Hongjoong nearly loses his balance, tripping over thin air as he steadies himself using the one arm of the chair you’re in.

“Joongie?” Your voice, amused and playful, reaches his ears. “You okay?”

Blinking, he refocusses his gaze on you, noticing how you’re leaning slightly forward in that chair to get a better look at his face.

Your lips rest mere millimetres from his own. He clears his throat.

“Yeah.” Shaking his head, he focusses back in on the task at hand. “I’m good.”

You giggle, and he swears you’re doing this on purpose, just to torture him. “You sure about that?”

The way your brow quirks, somewhat deviously, has him chuckling lowly.

“It’s like I always say, My Love,” he rights himself, moving back in to start blending another shade of eyeshadow in with the first. “You hold more power over me than you’ll ever know.”

Despite your eyelids being closed, you still manage a small, knowing smile. “I think I’m beginning to have some idea.”

Gently, you feel Hongjoong cup your chin, lightly tilting your head from side to side to see if the eyeshadow he’s applied is even.

“Should I be worried?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, and you can practically hear the smile he wears clear in his tone.

“Depends.” You hum. “I think you may just like what I have to offer you.”

“And just what is it that you’re offering me, My Love?” He leans in, noticing how your eyes blink open to stare deeply into his own.

“You’ll see, Joongie.” You grin softly. “Like I said, I want it to be a surprise.”

A hum is all you receive in response as Hongjoong releases the gentle hold he has on your chin. Carefully, he blends one final light colour in with the other two on your eyes, allowing the silence as he works to settle over the both of you. It’s comfortable, and warm, both of you basking in the other’s presence for the time being. The calmness of the moment does not go unnoticed by either of you, and neither of you would want it any other way.

“So, multiple sources I was reading up on depicted the recipient, or recipients, receiving some traits from the other when their souls had finally merged.” You comment, and you blink your eyes open just in time to watch Hongjoong fumble that eyeshadow brush in his one hand. Luckily, it seems he catches it before it can hit the ground. “Do you think this means I’ll receive a sort of portion of your powers, or that I’ll just be able to use the same powers as you?”

The way you’re looking up at him, with wide eyes full of curiosity, sets his heart racing inside of his chest.

“I’m honestly not entirely sure how it works, My Love, but I think it’s correct to assume both.” He breathes out, tucking the palette away, along with the brush. “It’s also entirely plausible that you may gain powers entirely different than ours. When the time comes, of course.”

“Yes, yes,” you nod along with his words, almost absentmindedly. “When the time comes.”

“Given that our blood seems to have such a profound effect on you, I’m honestly very curious what the merger of our souls will do.” He adds, plucking your liquid liner from the table. “I do know that the more souls you merge with, the more powerful you will become.”

“That makes sense.” You agree with a hum. “I’m assuming there’s different levels to the types of entities you all are. I’m aware you all have different forms you can take on. Jongho explained them to me, briefly.”

It’s slight, but you do not fail to miss the way he stiffens before you.

“He did, did he?”

Again, you hum. That same spark of curiosity shines brightly within your gaze as you meet his own, “When you were born, were you as you are now, or in your true form?”

Hongjoong pauses briefly once more before noticing your eyes flutter shut. Luckily, you miss the way he swallows thickly, blinking a few times before beginning to work on your eyeliner.

“When we are born, we appear as human infants do. As we grow, our true forms emerge, our more demonic appendages and appearances making themselves known.” He explains, his voice low and a bit strained. “Each… clan has specific markers they tend to pass on to their young. The more,” he pauses, as if searching for the correct term, “extremities that appear, the more powerful the entity. Or so it is said.”

The gentle brush of the liner over your one lid lifts, signalling his completion for the moment. Yet, before he can move on to the next, you blink your eyes open.

“Do you believe that?”

You can tell he’s a little stunned by your question, for he freezes before you. Your liquid liner rests in his hands, one holding the cap while the other holds the bottle, both held in the air.

“I believe there’s a certain truth to it.” He replies, seeming to choose his words carefully. “The more physical features one’s true form has: horns, antlers, tails, wings, scales, spikes, you name it, the more magic the entity seems to have in reserve.”

Your gaze narrows slightly, mind reeling at this information. “You all seem pretty powerful to me.”

“Some demons are born with a natural reserve of magic, others have to meticulously train themselves to store such an abundance of power if they want to make a statement.” The words almost sound bitter as they fall from his lips.

Carefully, you sit forward and on the edge of your seat. Your hands reach out to grasp his own, lowering them so you can have a better view of his face.

“My Joongie,” your voice is soft as you call his name, “You don’t need to prove yourself to me. It’s clear how hard you’ve worked to get here, and there is nothing you can do or say to chase me away at this stage. I don’t care about your lineage, or about who has the most power out of all of you. That’s never mattered to me before, and it sure as hell isn’t going to start mattering to me now. All I care about, is you.”

Tenderly, you squeeze his hands in your own.

“I love you. I am only asking to get to know more about one of the men I plan to spend the rest of my life with.” Your voice is firm, not wavering in the slightest. “I don’t know the personal struggles you’ve been through to get this far, but if it means anything in this moment, know that I am so proud of you. I am happy you chose me, of all people, to share this life with you, and I promise to stay by your side through it all. No matter what happens, you will always be My King, My Love,” you swallow lightly, a smile tugging at your lips, “My Joong Bug.”

The way his breath hitches, tears threatening to escape the corners of his eyes once more this afternoon, does not go unnoticed by you.

Your smile widens. You’re starting to understand yet another reason as to why Miyeon’s whole plight affected him so much. Seeing you hurt like that must have reminded him of his blood status, and how he had been supposedly ‘born weak’. A fact which is completely and utterly false, especially to you, and you make sure to tell him as much.

“You have come so far. We have come so far.” You say, settling back into your seat properly. “And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

A single tear escapes his one eye, the traitorous drop spilling onto his cheek as he stares down at you with nothing but tender love and affection in his gaze. You can feel a deeper understanding of each other settle over you, too, and it warms you right to your very core.

“My Queen,” he stutters out a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his emotions. “How you always know what to say to make me feel better sets my very soul alight.”

The words you had spoken to him that one day in the garden all those months ago come back to you now, and a loving smile pulls at your lips.

“I have come to realize that we’re all more alike that we realize, Hongjoong.” You voice gently. “I’m happy to know we all have each other.”

He mirrors your expression, smiling lightly as he wipes at his lingering tears with the back of his hand.

“You say how lucky you are to have me, but it is truly I who is lucky to have found you.” He says, barely above a whisper. “You mean everything to me, My Love. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Please, I know I always say it, but never forget that.”

“I believe you, Joongie.” The sincerity alone in your gaze says it all. Only, in the next moment, you begin shifting slightly in your seat. “Now, as much as I’m enjoying this lovely moment, may we quickly finish my eyes. I have to pee.”

“I can wait, My Love,” he chuckles, wiping his final tears away as he goes to take a step back.

“No!” A pout tugs at your lips as you whine. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise before you’ve completed your masterpiece.”

“My Love, you’ve always been a masterpiece, even without my influence.” He grins, shaking his head lovingly at you as you bounce slightly in your seat. “But alas, whatever My Queen desires, she shall have.”

You giggle, smiling wide as you look up at him. “Love you, Joongie.”

“And I love you, My Queen.” Comes his immediate reply.

Stepping back into you, Hongjoong is quick to finish lining the opposite eye. He takes a moment to observe his work again, making sure the product is applied evenly over your lids before switching your liquid liner out for your mascara. Softly, he instructs you to either look up or down as he applies the product to your upper and lower lashes. Not even two minutes later, and after inspecting your entire look once more, he smiles to himself, motioning to indicate that he’s finally finished doing your makeup.

“Yay!” You hop up from your seat, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, My Love!”

Hongjoong chuckles at your enthusiasm. “I simply hope you like it.”

“I know I’ll love it.” You smile, eyes crinkling slightly as you scurry passed him and to your bathroom. “Don’t go anywhere. I want to praise you when I get back.”

The playfully stern look you send him before you enter the bathroom has him grinning to himself. Lightly, he shakes his head, turning back around to at least attempt to start cleaning up that little table of products before you get back. It’s the least he can do, and besides, he should probably clean the brushes anyways. Clean tools are always preferable when starting fresh the next time they’re used.

Hongjoong pays no mind to the slight shuffling he can hear coming from behind him as he wipes off his hands. He knows that it’s just you in the bathroom, moving around. Your little gasp of awe he can hear only causes his grin to widen, knowing you must have finally taken a look at your reflection in the mirror. He just can’t wait to hear what you think.

Holding that eyeshadow brush in his one hand once more, Hongjoong hears the bathroom door finally swing open behind him.

A moment of silence.

“Oh, Captain,” your voice, sultry and sweet, drawls out from the open doorway.

The sight that greets Hongjoong as soon as he turns to face you sends him tumbling to his knees. He cannot contain the darkness that swirls deep within his eyes as that brush clatters to the floor, his heart skipping a pleasant beat inside of his chest.

There you stand, leaning against the edge of the doorframe, looking like his own personal divine sin. Your opposite arm rests lazily against your side, and Hongjoong finally notes your nails, which have been painted a bright red to match the outfit you currently wear.

A short, red silk robe hangs over your figure, barely covering your mid-thighs. The string is tied loosely around your waist, the fabric artfully caressing your form. White peonies are littered across the fabric, hues of blue and yellow dotting the petals in what appear to be smaller floral designs. Your left shoulder is exposed, red lace peeking out from beneath the silk. It’s as if the material is meticulously draped over your skin to provide but a taste of the delicacy you seem to be hiding for him beneath such a thin piece of fabric. Though, that’s not what draws in Hongjoong’s attention the most.

On your lips, the most sinful shade of red is painted over the most seductive of smiles the male has ever seen in his entire life.

There you stand, sin incarnate, and all for him.

“My Love…” He breathes out, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes never leave your figure as you slowly begin stalking towards him. The look in your eyes is dark enough to mirror his own, and he cannot help the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he continues to stare up at you.

“I told you I had a surprise for you,” you chuckle, leaning slightly forward as you come to rest before him. Gently, you bring a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up to meet your seductive gaze. “Do you like what you see, Captain?”

Hongjoong’s chest heaves, and he can barely suppress the growl that rumbles out from deep within. “My Love, you are the most captivating beauty that I have ever had the pleasure to behold.”

The upturn of your lips shifts from sinful to soft, your eyes shining with nothing but love as you continue to stare down at him.

“I am yours, Hongjoong,” You say, cupping his face gently in the palms of your hands. “There’s a reason I planned so meticulously for this moment with you, and you alone.”

“There is no honour greater to me than spending time with you, My Queen.” He exhales, eyes flitting around every inch of your face and committing this all to memory for years to come. “No feeling greater than your love for me.”

“Truly, the honour is all mine.” Your thumbs trace tenderly over his cheeks. “I am prepared to offer myself to you in every way this evening, My King.”

His breath hitches, and his lips part. His hands, which he has been resting on his knees this whole time, continue to tremble desperately as he attempts to ground himself. This is everything he’s ever wanted, and so much more. Finally, he is going to get the chance to show you what you mean to him. What you have always and truly meant to him.

“However,” this catches his attention, and he waits patiently for you to continue, “there is one thing I want to request of you first.”

“Anything,” he breathes, searching your gaze for any hint of what it is you could want from him.

Always, he is ready and willing to provide at a moment’s notice.

You inhale deeply, as if to steady your own racing heart as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“I want to see you. All of you.” Gently, you kneel before him, lowering yourself to his level. “Please, Hongjoong,” you swallow softly, “I wish to see your true form.”

You physically feel him freeze beneath your touch, but your stare is unwavering.

Within your eyes, Hongjoong cannot see even a hint of hesitation, or fear. There is no uncertainty he can decipher, or regret you seem to hold from those words. Simply, there is that same spark of curiosity, and now, love. An undeniable fact that only serves to solidify his decision.

Your painted lips can only part in awe as you see Hongjoong slowly begin to shift before your very eyes. His ears sharpen into fine points, eyes hallowing and swirling with that all too familiar black hue you’ve become so use to from him. Thick, canine-like fangs protrude from his mouth, lips stretching wide over the sharp points almost naturally as his skin grows taunt and pale. Claws extend from the tips of his fingers, and you notice how he seems to be digging them harshly into his knees, the faintest bit of blood seeping into the material of his jeans. Even his limbs appear slightly elongated as he sits there before you, averting his gaze to the side.

Softly, you guide his head back upwards, eyes searching his own.

Hongjoong holds his breath.

“You are so unbelievably beautiful, Hongjoong.” You lean forward, resting your forehead on his own. “Thank you, for sharing this part of yourself with me.”

Slowly, he begins to shift back into his human form, his lips parting slightly as he attempts to control himself for the moment. Of course, Hongjoong did not fail to miss the sudden spike of arousal that permeated your scent just now as he revealed his true form to you. Really, it is you who makes all of his dreams come true.

“I love you, Hongjoong,” your voice manages to pull him back to the beautiful reality before him. “I’m ready now.”

He blinks, a little caught off guard by your words. Though, as his eyes trail over your form once more, watching as you shift to loosen that tie holding such a flimsy material together, he cannot help the way his brow quirks.

A low groan escapes him as the intricate lace ensemble you wear is now fully revealed to him. It wraps delicately around your figure, showcasing every dip and curve he admires so much. In his favourite colour, too.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, My King?” Your voice is soft as you kneel before him, your one hand coming to rest on the side of your own thigh.

Hongjoong’s eyes nearly bulge right out of his head as he sees you pull out that jewelled dagger from beneath the red laced garter around your upper thigh. The blade had been artfully hidden beneath the robe, but now that you’ve fully opened the silk, he can see that it’s been held there carefully this whole time.

“Not only do I fully offer myself to you in every way tonight,” you begin, meeting his gaze once more as your one hand still gingerly cups the side of his face, “but I have every intention for us to become whole.”

His lips part, and a soft gasp escapes him, “you mean…?”

“Yes, My Love,” you smile. “Tonight, I wish for our souls to finally merge as one.”

The hitch in his breath is audible, and you cannot help but fixate on the way his one hand trembles as he brings it up to cover your own. Nothing but the deepest, most sincere form of love you have ever experienced in your life can be seen in his gaze, and you swear that you can feel his heartbeat pounding right alongside your own.

“Are you-“ he swallows thickly. “Are you sure?”

“More sure of anything I’ve ever been in my entire life.” You tell him earnestly. “I want it to be you, Hongjoong. I need it to be you.”

In the blink of an eye, he has you laying on your bed. Carefully, he hovers above you, his chest still heaving with every breath he takes as he stares deeply into your eyes.

“My Queen,” his voice is full of emotion, threatening to choke him out at any second as he leans into you. Gently, he kisses you, pouring every single emotion he’s currently feeling into the movement of his lips on your own. Pulling away, he rests his forehead tenderly against your own. “I would be honoured.”

The smile that stretches onto your features is nothing short of brilliant, and you can feel him shiver beneath your touch as you trail your one hand up the back of his shirt. Softly, teasingly, you allow your nails to trace over his spine, pulling him in closer.

“Everything I have to offer is yours tonight, Hongjoong.” You say, shifting slightly so you can nuzzle his nose with your own affectionately. “My blood, my body, my mind, my soul.” You meet his gaze. “I want you to have it all.”

Leaning in, Hongjoong wastes no time in kissing you passionately, successfully stealing your breath away as he presses closer into you. A pleasant hum escapes him as he feels you pull him in closer, the hand you have resting beneath his shirt digging into his back desperately.

“You have all of me, My Love.” He whispers against your lips. “You always have, and you always will.”

Gently, you nip at his bottom lip, eliciting a low growl from deep within his throat.

You smirk.

“Now, do you want to cut me out of this,” you lift that dagger held in your one hand, holding it with the pommel towards him in offering, “or shall I?”

The way his eyes flash black, an animalistic snarl tearing from his throat, has you clenching pleasantly around nothing. Your whole body thrums with excitement as he takes that dagger from your hand, gaze trailing shamelessly over every inch of you that he can see.

“A shame to remove such delicate lace from such a perfect body,” he hums, twirling that blade in his one hand as he sits back onto his knees. His eyes are dark as he stares down at you beneath him, a smirk pulling at his features. “I have half the mind to make you ruin these panties of yours before I tear them off of you.”

Once more, you clench pleasantly around nothing. “Why don’t you?”

“Believe me, My Love, I plan on taking my time with you tonight.” That familiar darkness swirls within his gaze as he takes in your figure beneath him on the bed. “Let me admire you just a bit longer like this. Then, I swear to you I will fulfill every promise I’ve ever made of ravishing you until the sun comes up the next day.”

This time, it’s your turn for your breath to hitch. Not even a moment later, and without giving it much though, your hands reach up to fist his shirt, pulling him back down into you for another kiss.

The movement of your lips on his is desperate, fingers fumbling over the buttons on his shirt as you shift your hips up against him. The way he groans into your mouth has you smiling into the kiss, and before you know it, he’s slipped that dagger back into your one hand.

Without wasting anymore time, you tear through the rest of his buttons using that blade. Once the last one has been cut from the material, he pulls away to tear the remaining fabric off of his torso, tossing it somewhere in your room.

Shamelessly, your eyes rake over his body, licking your lips as you do so. There is nothing but pure love and lust in your gaze as your free hand comes up to trace over his chest, eyes catching on two very specific details.

Your expression softens, “You’re still wearing it.”

Briefly, his own gaze darts downwards, as if to glance the golden ring hanging from a thick, silver chain around his neck. He smiles, eyes flitting back to meet your own, a tender look swimming within.

“I haven’t taken it off.” He admits lowly, his one hand coming up to clutch the One Ring lovingly. “It’s… precious to me.”

Your eyebrow quirks, amusement tugging at your features.

“My Love gave it to me.” He says, matter of factly, a knowing twitch of his lips upwards.

Lifting you free hand, you cup his cheek tenderly once more.

Almost instantly, Hongjoong brings a hand up to rest over your own, turning his face to place a gentle kiss onto your open palm. He purposefully allows his lips to linger, revelling in the feeling of your skin beneath his own. For too long has he dreamt about this moment, and now that it is here - you laying beneath him and pressing against him in every way he’s only ever wished for - he finds that words escape him. One thing he does know, is that he will savour this moment here with you for all eternity.

Again, your gaze darts to his chest, but instead of catching on the ring gleaming from his neck, you focus in on another monumental detail.

There, a thin, white line sits a few inches below his left collarbone.

The scar you gave him from that knife rests proudly on his upper chest. In fact, it appears to be the only part of his skin that is marred by any sort of blemish for the moment, other than a few moles you can see dotted here and there.

Carefully, you shift your hand, sliding your fingers down the side of his neck in order to rest your touch on his shoulder. Your thumb traces over the faint scar, nothing but adoration shining within your gaze.

“I told you I still had the scar,” he chuckles lowly, that same fond look reflected in his own eyes.

Darting your gaze to his own, your thumb finally freezes over his skin. Nothing but pure love blooms in your heart as you think of how far the both of you have come since you gave him this scar. To think that you’d be here right now, in such a position, is almost unreal. Yet, looking back on it now, and knowing what he means to you - what they all mean to you - you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Softly, your lips pull upwards in a smile. Leaning froward, you press them against his chest, directly over that scar. The fact that there is now a faint stain of red marring his skin has you chuckling fondly, revelling in the way his chest rumbles in content as he sees you looking at the mark you’ve just given him.

“You know I’ll always wear this proudly, My Love,” he keeps his voice low, gazing down at you as if you’ve hung all of the stars in the night sky.

To him, you have.

“I would say to give me a matching one, but I don’t think you’d ever agree to stabbing me.” You say, and you notice how his one eyebrow twitches. “Remind me to discuss the idea of tattoos with you all sometime.”

The grin that stretches across his face is radiant, if not devious. “You wish to have matching tattoos with us, My Love?”

“It’s something else I’ve been thinking about lately,” you admit, your one hand back to trailing over his chest. Lightly, your nails scratch at his skin and he hums in content.

“You know, My Love,” his grin turns teasing, “Tattoos are quite permanent. They can last forever.”

“Oh?” The playful pull of your lips upwards matches his grin in every way. “It’s a good thing, then, that I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling in joy, “We’d chase you to the ends of the earth.”

“I’m aware,” you hum, letting that blade settle beside you onto the mattress as you fully pull him back into you. “Let’s start with this first. Okay, Joongie?”

A content rumble escapes him once more. “As you wish, My Queen.”

His lips are back on your own without another moment’s hesitation. Gently, he grinds his hips into you, letting you feel just how hard you’ve already made him. The way you gasp lightly into his mouth as you feel all of him pressing against your core makes his smirk.

“You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about this.” He moans, nipping at your bottom lip. “About you.”

“Oh?”You quirk a brow, heart fluttering inside of your chest. “Just what have you fantasized about, Captain?”

His eyes flash, gaze briefly roaming over your entire body once more as he licks his lips.

“I can’t count the amount of times I’ve fantasized about you sucking me off.”

The admission knocks the wind right out of you.

“I’ve thought about you worshipping my cock: the way your lips would feel wrapped around me, and fuck- the feeling of your tongue licking over every inch like I’m the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted in your entire life.” He pants out, voice but a low drawl. His chest heaves, rising and falling dramatically as he watches your tongue dart out to wet your lips.

“And of course, once you were finally sated with pleasing me, I would absolutely fucking devour you. Fuck- ever since that day you allowed us to indulge in you, the way your scent fucking hypnotized me, I’ve been dying for a taste.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips this time, as if to emphasize his point. His eyes darken significantly. “That little gift of yours could only satisfy me for so long; I’m afraid that your scent has long since worn off of them, given the amount of times I’ve tried to suckle whatever last drops of your sweet nectar that I could that clung to the material.”

Your breath hitches at his confession. The mental image alone of Hongjoong desperate and aching for you, your panties caught between his teeth as he strokes his throbbing cock to completion to the mere thought of you has you immediately clenching around nothing. You can practically feel yourself soaking through the material of the panties you currently wear, and the fact that he’s already mentioned wanting to make you ruin them only adds to the immense pleasure that currently floods your veins from his words alone.

You let out a low moan, eyes nearly rolling as he presses himself firmer against you.

“Fuck- I’ve always thought about you.” He leans in, nipping at the shell of your ear. His lips trace down the side of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as his voice deepens, “The way you would taste; how your thighs would tremble around my head as your juices dripped down my chin. I’ve always fantasized about how sweet my name would sound falling from your lips, pulling me in closer as I brought you to ecstasy over, and over, and over again just from my tongue alone.”

He’s panting at this point, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is letting you know exactly what you do to him, just as he’s always so desperately craved.

“I want to feel you falling apart because of me. I want you to flood my every sense with you as you continuously drip down my face because you cannot help how wet I make you. I want to make you tremble. I want for you to experience a bliss unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your entire life, and then I want to drown you in my love, in pleasure, so that the only thing you can think of, the only thing that you can feel is me.” His eyes flash as he stares deeply into your own, beginning to grind himself into you in time with his words.

“I want to have you shaking as I make you come over,” he presses deeper into you, “and over,” another shift of his hips over your own, “and over again for me and me alone. I want to hear you sigh my name, and then I want to make you scream it until your voice is so raw from the pleasure I am providing you that all you can do is whimper and moan.”

Desperately, your hands claw at his back, nails biting into his shoulders as a small whine escapes your throat. Already, you can feel yourself trembling beneath him, close to tipping over the edge from the sheer want coursing through your veins. The same want - need - that you know he feels in this very moment, too.

“Selfishly, I want to please you until I am satisfied. Until you’re either begging me to stop, or you pass out from the feeling of it all.” He breathes out, the slightest of smirks pulling at the corner of his lips. “I want to feel your nails digging into my back as I make the sweetest love to you, letting you feel my devotion to you in every movement that I offer you. I want to feel you pressing against me in every possible way, and even then I fear that it will never be enough to satiate my need, my desire for you.”

A gasp escapes you, your eyes fluttering shut as you absolutely revel in his confession. Your heart feels as if it is about to burst from your chest, whole body heating until you cannot tell where his desire ends and your own begins.

“I want to love you, until the stars fall from the sky, and the entire world goes up in flames.” A moment’s pause so he can stare deeply into your eyes as you blink them open to meet his gaze. “I will love you. Until the end of time.”

“Hongjoong,” his name is no more than a whisper on your lips, eyes staring deeply into his own.

You hold him tighter, your one hand coming up to cup the side of his face.

“Please, My Love,” he reaches up and grasps your hand in his, placing your palm directly over his racing heart. “Feel how my heart beats for you. How it pulses and aches for you and only you. With everything I am, I am yours. My every breath, my every thought,” his hand tightens over your own, and you can feel the way his heart skips a beat inside of his chest, “my very soul, belongs to you.”

Subconsciously, your thighs tighten around him, your fingers digging into his chest as you stare up at him with nothing but tender love and affection in your gaze. The need to be closer to him rushes through your mind, and you hardly register how your vision blurs through the appearance of happy tears.

Blinking them away quickly, you smile up at him, lips parting slightly as you attempt to catch your breath.

“You are the greatest love I have even known, Hongjoong.” You say softly, your other hand coming to cup his face as he still holds the one tenderly against his racing heart. “Everything and anything you want from me, I will give. All of your desires, I will fulfill. I am yours as much as you are mine, and nothing will ever change that.”

His own breath hitches as he looks down at you so fondly, “My Love-“

Quickly, you shift your hand on his chest so that you now press his own to yours. Even you can feel your heart thundering away beneath your skin against the tips of your fingers, and you make sure to squeeze his hand just as tenderly as he did your own.

“Know that my heart beats just as fiercely for you as yours does for me.” You keep your voice low, feeling as he begins to tremble above you. “There is no power in this world that could tear me away from you, nor change what you mean to me. You have made me believe in love again, and nothing will ever change that. Just as you give your all to me, I give everything I am and more to you. You are My Everything, Hongjoong. My Soul lives on for you.”

The small sob that escapes him surprises you, and not even a moment later, you feel something wet land on your chest. However, before he gives you time to think, his lips are on your own, kissing you breathless as he clings to your very form.

“I am so deeply in love with you, My Queen,” he mutters against your lips through kisses. “I love you more than life itself.”

“I am in love with you, My King,” you breathe out, clinging to him desperately as your arms hold him flush against you. “And I always will be.”

Hongjoong buries his face into the side of your neck, his hands caressing your sides tenderly. His fingers dance along your skin, toying with the intricate straps wrapping around your body that he can reach. His heart positively sings for you inside of his chest, whole body overwhelmed by his emotions. This feeling that consumes him currently is unlike any other he’s felt in his entire life, and he knows it’s only just the beginning.

After all, the two of you are only getting started.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” He nips at the skin of your neck, soothing over the bite with his lips shortly after. “I can never get enough of you.” His tongue darts out to lave over your pulse, and he loves how your whole body arches into his touch. “Of your love.”

“It’s endless, Joongie,” you reply, words but a whimper on your lips as you tilt your head to the side so he has better access. “I will never stop loving you.”

You can feel the way he smiles against the skin of your neck, “Took the words right out of my mouth, My Queen.”

Gently, the fingers of your one hand begin to thread through the hair on the back of his neck.

“I want you to act on your desires tonight, Joongie,” you breathe out, nipping at the shell of his ear. “And I will finally act on mine.”

The way his whole body shudders in your hold does not go unnoticed by you. You smirk.

He bites down on the side of your neck a little harsher this time, eliciting the sweetest of whines from you.

“As you wish, My Queen.”

Slowly, meticulously, Hongjoong grinds himself into you once more. His lips swallow the gasp you let out as he presses his own to yours, hands holding you tightly as he moves above you. He wants you to feel every inch of his love tonight, and he doesn’t plan on making any exceptions.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, did you know that?” Again, he nips at your bottom lip, a pleased rumble escaping him along with his words.

“All for you,” you hum, cupping his face in your hands tenderly. “My Handsome King.”

A low, pleased growl echoes around the room, his one hand coming up to cup your breast over the lace material of your bra. Slowly, he begins to squeeze your flesh, moaning as he feels the warmth of your skin against his palm. Teasingly, he traces his thumb over your nipple through the fabric, loving how you arch desperately into his touch.

“Joongie, please,” A small whimper escapes your lips as your hips shift beneath his. “Touch me.”

The corner of his lips quirk, “I am touching you, My Queen.”

As if to emphasize his point, he gives your breast another appreciative squeeze, his teeth scraping against your pulse in tandem.

A whine slips passed your lips, chest stuttering as you attempt to catch your breath. Then, something within your eyes flash, a sort of devious intent shining within.

“If you don’t want to feel how wet you’ve made me,” your voice is low, rumbling out as you slip a hand between your two bodies, “I will.”

There is no mistaking the animalistic snarl that tears from his throat as his one hand comes down to halt all movements of your own. His touch is nothing short of gentle, contrasting the darkness swirling within his eyes at this very moment as he stares deeply into your gaze.

“Still wish to tease me, My Love?” You grin devilishly, licking your lips as your gaze darts down to where he pins your wrist to your stomach.

“Who’s teasing who now, My Love?” His voice is low, nothing more than guttural in tone as his eyes flash black. “I thought I told you I wish to take my time with you tonight.”

“You did.” Your expression softens the slightest bit, a warmth lighting up behind your eyes. “And I said I wanted us to fulfill our deepest desires, as well.”

You feel his cock twitch against your clothed core as he grins above you. “Fuck- I love you.”

The words have barely finished escaping him when his lips are pressed against your own. The hand holding your wrist finally lets go. Only, before you can so much as react, you find your breath hitching, a pleasant thrum travelling throughout your body. The feeling radiates out from your very core, spreading down towards the very tips of your toes.

The dagger, which you had left resting beside you on the mattress, is suddenly at your throat. A wild, desperate look shines within Hongjoong’s eyes as he holds the blade mere millimetres from your skin.

“Beg for me, My Queen.”

The soft gasp has barely finished falling from your parted lips when your hands tighten around him again for the nth time this evening. A fact of which has his own hips involuntarily shifting forward, cock twitching against you once more.

“Please, Joongie,” your voice portrays every bit of desperation you feel for him in this moment. “Touch me.” You swallow lightly. “I need you to touch me.”

Slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, and that hand he still has tenderly cupping your breast begins to sneak down your body.

“Feel how wet you make me, My Love.” You breathe out. “Please, I’m tired of only fantasizing about what your fingers feel like on me.”

Hongjoong’s own breath hitches, those very fingers of his halting all movement as the tips teasingly trail along the top of your panties. He can feel his heartbeat ringing in his ear, threatening to burst right out of his very chest at any second.

For too long has he fantasized about such words falling from your lips, and now that they have, his head spins. Hongjoong has to hold himself there, desperately telling himself to calm down, lest he want to come before you can even touch him, or even better, he can even touch you. Such a simple phrase means everything to him, and the way you begin squirming beneath his hold says it all.

“You’ve thought about me.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“How can I not think about you?” Your response is airy, hips lifting off the bed as you seek the warmth of his hand that he holds just above your panty line. “You’re not the only one with desires, Captain.”

“Tell me.” Hongjoong growls lowly, his fingers slowly dipping beneath the band of your panties.

A small whimper escapes you, and you attempt to raise your hips to meet his touch. Only, this time, he’s expecting you to do so, pinning your hips in place with his own as he presses that dagger firmer into your neck.

You swallow, excitement thrumming through your veins.

“You have such pretty hands, My Love,” you whisper, gaze briefly darting downwards as if to glance them. “I can’t count the amount of nights I’ve spent in your arms, thinking about your hands all over me. I’ve always dreamt of your fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me in closer to you as we lose ourselves in each other. I want to feel your nails piercing my skin because you can no longer control yourself, sinking your fangs into my neck and drinking your fill of me as we come together.”

A low snarl tears passed his lips as Hongjoong finally shifts his hand down to cup you over your bare pussy. He can already feel the dampness on the back of his skin from where you’ve soaked through your panties, and as he finally dips a finger through your folds, he nearly loses himself right then and there.

“Fuck- My Queen,” his whole body shakes as he moans lowly. “You’re dripping.”

“All for you, My King,” your eyes flutter as you feel him repeat his movements from only a moment before. “All because of you. Do you see how wet you make me? What your words alone can do? How much I’ve been craving your touch?”

Again, he growls, the tips of his fingers coming up to lightly begin circling over your clit. The way he can feel your pussy practically pulsating beneath his touch has him smirking into the skin of your neck.

Another low moan escapes you, your whole body shuddering as he increases the pressure slightly over your clit. Already, your legs begin to tremble, high pitched whimpers falling from your lips as you toss your head back onto the pillows.

Only, he immediately halts all movement over you, drawing a desperate whine from your throat. Yet, he never lifts his fingers from your dripping cunt, making sure to keep the tips pressed firmly against that sensitive little clit of yours.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” His voice is low, nothing more than an animalistic drawl in your ear. He circles your clit once. Slowly. “Keep going. I want to hear it all.”

Your lips part in a breathless moan, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“I’ve-“ you inhale sharply, feeling him adding the slightest bit more pressure as he resumes circling that sensitive little nub of yours, “I’ve always enjoyed the idea of being marked.” Your chest heaves as you feel him nip at your neck. “Of being claimed.”

He hums, his lips placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your racing pulse. All the while, his fingers never halt their movements over your clit for even a second.

“The mere thought of you-“ your eyes squeeze shut as you attempt to hold back that impending wave of your orgasm, toes curling prematurely. “Oh god-“

He smirks against your neck, adding even more pressure over your clit as his fingers circle that swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

“Go on, My Queen,” he nips once more at the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Hongjoong-“ The gasp of his name is a mere warning on your lips.

“Tell me, and then let me feel you drench my fingers in your love,” his voice is but a mere growl on his lips, hips slowly grinding against your side in time with the movements of his fingers.

A loud moan escapes you, your brow furrowing as your whole body tenses beneath his touch.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come harder by myself than to the thought of you claiming me as yours.” Your words are rushed, voiced hushed as your hands come up to desperately cling onto the sides of his arms.

The second that admission escapes your lips, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head. Your back arches off of the bed, his name falling in desperate whines from your lips as your orgasm crashes into you. You can feel your release dripping out of you and onto his fingers, your whole body trembling beneath his touch.

A pleased snarl escapes him, both from hearing your admission and watching you fall apart immediately afterwards. The fact that he can feel you soaking his fingers as he teasingly drags them through your folds, circling over your entrance lethargically has pleased growls building continuously in his throat with every exhale he makes.

Only now, Hongjoong wants more.

That dagger at your throat gets tossed beside you once more on the bed in favour of his hand cupping your face. Instantly, his lips are back on yours, swallowing all of your sounds as he gives you no time to recover from your first orgasm of the evening. Dipping two fingers through your folds, he pushes them inside you, moaning lowly as he feels your whole body shudder beneath him.

“Another,” the feral command is growled against the skin of your lips as his teeth sink lightly into the tender flesh. “Give me another.”

His pace is ruthless, fingers massaging your inner walls as his thumb finds your clit once more. His movements are precise, albeit desperate as he continues to grind his hips against your side, his cock twitching in tandem with the way your warmth squeezes his digits so delicately.

You can no longer form words. The intensity of your first orgasm has barely subsided as he begins to coax another from you. All you can do is moan, lips moving against his own as he swallows all of your sounds greedily, fingers curling within you as he begs for you to fall apart for him again.

“So fucking beautiful, My Queen,” he whispers against your mouth. “Such an ethereal sight, watching you fall apart for me.” He hums pleasantly, his chest rumbling in content. “Because of me.”

Again, your whole body begins trembling in his hold, and all you can manage are loud moans as his name falls from your lips in desperate whimpers.

“Give it to me, My Love.” Lightly, he nips at your neck, sucking gently on your skin. The softness of his lips completely contrasts the eager movements of his fingers, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit as he adds more pressure to each of his digits within your cunt. “I want to hear you scream.”

As if your body is set to obey his every command, your second orgasm crashes into you, much more intensely than the first. Your whole body shakes, a loud cry of his name escaping your lips as you arch into him. Your chest presses against his, legs twitching as you feel your walls spasming around his fingers still buried deep inside of you.

“Yes,” his voice is but a low, pleased snarl as he helps you through your release. “That’s it, My Love. Just like that.”

A breathless whine of his name escapes you, attempting to catch your breath as your chest heaves. Luckily, his fingers have finally stilled within you, and the next kiss he places upon your lips is tender. Even if he still growls with every exhale.

Softly, he begins trailing kisses down your jaw and to your neck, sucking lightly over certain areas that have your breath stuttering. Slowly, he removes his fingers, feeling as you shudder beneath him once more.

“You’re doing so well for me, My Love,” his voice is nothing short of tender as he cups your face with his opposite hand. Gently, his thumb strokes over your cheek. “My Beautiful Queen.”

Your eyes flutter shut, basking in the gentle caress of his touch as he kisses you. The movement of his tongue over your own is languid, and he hums lowly into your mouth as you finally release your hold on his arms.

The fact that he can still feel the dull press of your nails against his skin, even after you pull your hands away, makes him smile.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against your own.

“I just-“ You lick your lips, chest still heaving as you rest beneath him. “I just need a moment.”

A pleased rumble shakes his chest, “Of course, My Love.”

“You truly are insatiable, aren’t you?” Your voice holds nothing but amusement as your eyes blink open, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your lips.

“When it comes to you,” he pecks your lips softly. “Always.”

You hum contently, your one hand gently stroking over his spine as he rests above you. Nothing but love can be seen in your gaze as you stare deeply into his eyes, smiling tenderly up at him as he looks upon you in the exact same way that you’re gazing at him.

In fact, he’s so enraptured by your gaze that he fails to see your other hand sneaking up the mattress beside you.

Finally, you seem to catch your breath.

In the blink of an eye, that dagger is now at Hongjoong’s throat. The tip rests mere millimetres beneath his chin, and you can feel the pleased growl that reverberates through his chest against your own as his gaze darkens.

“My turn.” You smirk, wrapping your one leg around his hips and flipping your position instantly.

The way he gazes up at you, his eyes flashing black as his hands settle lovingly onto your waist, says it all.

Still, you press that blade to his throat.

“You certainly know how to please a woman.” You grin, licking your lips. A movement of which, you notice, he follows.

Subtly, his grip tightens on your hips. “I live to please you.”

Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling at your features as you gaze down upon him.

“Well, now I wish to please you.” That knife gets trailed gently down his torso, the tip of the blade caressing his skin and causing goosebumps to raise in its wake. The shudder that wracks his body as you trace the tip over his scar does not go unnoticed by you. “How about it, My King? Shall I reward you for always taking such good care of me?”

Hongjoong’s breathing deepens, eyes trailing over every inch of your figure as you move to slip that silk robe from your shoulders. His lips part, a choked moan escaping him as he feels you beginning to grind yourself down into him.

Your brow quirks, amusement tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Did making me come for you please you that much, My King?” Your voice is but a sultry drawl as you begin to shift down his body.

Once more, his eyes flash black. “You have no idea what you do to me, My Queen, nor how long I’ve desired only to please you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel your heart skip a beat in your chest. Warmth blooms beneath your skin, for you know he only speaks the truth, especially given the way his dark eyes drink you in.

Sitting back on your knees, you settle between Hongjoong’s legs. A small pride blooms in your chest as you see the prominent wet patch on his jeans, his semi-hard cock already straining once more against the material.

Hongjoong observes your every movement carefully. Every twitch of your brow, every subtle upturn of your lips, he sees. The way you hungrily trail your own gaze over his body has his shivering in contentment, anticipation clawing at his chest as you hand that dagger back to him.

Gently, he takes the blade from your hand, silently asking you with his eyes what you wish to do with such an item.

“Stick it in my headboard for all I care,” you grin, hands finding purchase on his thighs and rubbing over the clothed flesh tenderly. “I’m about to have my hands full.”

The way his hips buck upwards, a low groan escaping him is completely involuntary. His mind runs wild with the implications behind your words, and he hardly registers slamming that dagger into the wood above his head.

You giggle, and the sound is pure music to Hongjoong’s ears. “Someone’s eager.”

“My Love-“

“I know, Joongie,” you grin, glancing up at him through your lashes. “You’re not the only one who’s fantasized about feeling my tongue on you.”

This time, it’s his turn for his eyes to roll to the back of his head. His back arches, cock twitching beneath his jeans as your words settle over him. Knowing you’ve desired the same things as he has only makes his head spin, his need for you growing tenfold as he feels your fingers trailing up his thighs.

A blink, and you’re leaning over him, hands splayed over his chest as you kiss him deeply. His hands slip down to your ass, and you giggle into his mouth as you feel him squeeze you appreciatively.

Slowly, you begin to trail your own lips down his neck, biting and sucking marks into his skin along the way. His hands never once leave you, holding onto you for as long as he can as you shift over him, kissing and nipping your way down his bare torso. Not before laving your mouth over that scar once more, though. A fact which has his whole body shuddering, hips bucking upwards to seek any sort of friction that he can.

“So handsome, Joongie,” You hum, teeth grazing the skin just above waistline of his jeans. “You are everything I could have ever asked for, and so much more.”

A shameless moan escapes him, his fingers reaching for you desperately. Only, you chuckle, moving just out of his reach.

“Patience, My Love,” your own hands grasp his waist, squeezing gently. “It’s like you said before,” you grin, “we’ve only just begun.”

The moment your fingers start to undo his belt, Hongjoong’s lips part. His eyes never once leave your figure, drinking in the sight of you, still in that sinful red ensemble, ready and willing to please him. Truly, this is everything he could have ever wanted, and so much more. The fact that you’ve already given so much to him today, and that you plan to give him more, makes his whole body come alight, his soul singing beneath his skin.

The slow, meticulous movement of your hand undoing his zipper only serves to tease him further. Your touch is like electricity, making his skin come alight in the best ways wherever you choose to caress his body. The way you lick your lips eagerly as you hook your fingers beneath both the waistline of his pants and his underwear has his cock twitching in tandem, straining against the material until such a time where you remove them from him.

A low, pleased moan slips passed your lips as you watch his cock spring free of its confines. The tip is already an angry red, and you swear that you can practically see it throbbing from where it sits, pressing firmly against the skin of his stomach.

You toss his remaining clothes somewhere in your room, mouth practically salivating as your eyes stare down at his cock. The way you lick your lips makes him twitch, and you cannot help the grin that tugs onto your features as you realize this.

“Such a pretty cock, Joongie,” you slowly lower yourself to him, letting him feel the warmth of your breath on the skin of his thigh as you place a tender kiss to his flesh. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already this hard.”

“All for you, My Queen,” he replies breathlessly. “You should see how hard I get just from you merely looking at me.”

Your heart positively flutters inside of your chest, a warmth blooming within.

Softly, your hands trail up his thighs once more, nails scratching lightly over his skin.

He shudders.

A smile rests on your face as you begin placing tender kisses along the inside of his one thigh. Your hand comes up to settle over his hip, thumb gently stroking over his skin as you hear him moan.

“My Queen,” his voice is desperate; airy.

Using your opposite hand, you push his thighs further apart, settling between them comfortably. Your head rests just above his aching cock, and with every exhale, he seems to twitch against his stomach. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice how his hands fist the sheets at his sides. A fact which makes you smirk.

“I had also planned to worship you tonight, My King.” You tell him lowly, hearing how he whimpers your name so beautifully in response. “Let me make all of your fantasies come to life.”

A loud moan escapes Hongjoong’s lips as he feels you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, slowly. You repeat the action a few times, drawing different patterns against him as you trace your tongue over a prominent vein. The fact that his breathing picks up, his head getting tossed back against the pillows only makes you smirk, loving the effect you’re already having on him.

Slowly, you bring that hand you had resting on his hip to his cock, holding him firmly in your grip. You pump him a few times, thumb swiping over his leaking slit as you spare a glance up at him through your lashes.

The sight that greets you has your stomach twisting in pleasure.

Never have you seen Hongjoong look so dishevelled. His hair is a mess, sticking out in odd ends as some damp strands cling to his forehead. His chest continues to heave, lips parted as low growls slip through with every breath he takes. Already, his eyes have bled black, his gaze fixated on you.

No matter what, he refuses to tear his attention away from the glorious sight that is you. Too many nights have been spent fantasizing about what you’d look like between his legs, and now that he finally gets to observe such a breathtaking scene, he swears to engrave it into his memories for all eternity.

The feeling of your hand holding onto him so delicately, occasionally gifting him a tender stroke has low groans escaping him. The wet heat of your tongue dances across his skin, his cock throbbing with every desperate beat of his heart as you continuously lick him from base to tip, just like he’s always dreamed.

The second you shift to lave your mouth over the underside of his cock, Hongjoong’s whole body twitches. He can feel himself internally battling with the feeling of both loving and hating the slow, languid pace you’re taking with him right now. Yet, it’s embarrassing to him how quickly he feels like he’s going to come.

He wants you to make him scream. He wants you to make him beg for you, to make him so desperate for your touch that he falls apart just from a single glance. Yet, he also wants you to be rough with him, to please him until he has nothing left, his come dripping over his spent cock as you force another orgasm from him. For you, and only you.

He wants you to make him cry from the pleasure of it all, but he has a feeling that, somehow, deep down, you most certainly will.

The tender brush he feels of your mind against his own has another shudder caressing his spine. The fact that you immediately open your void to him to let your thoughts shamelessly pour over him as another low, desperate moan of your name falling passed his lips.

So hard for me, Joongie, Your voice echoes shamelessly through his head. Fuck- I love the feeling of you against my tongue.

As if to emphasize your point, another long lick is given to him from base to tip. Only this time, the moment you reach the head, you wrap your lips around him, suckling him gently into your mouth.

The moan that escapes Hongjoong is nothing short of needy, his hips bucking upwards in pursuit of the warmth of your mouth. Except, you’re faster, releasing him with a slight chuckle as you pull away from him.

He whines, the loss of contact making his thighs twitch.

“I control the pace, My Love,” you tell him, voice firm as your dark eyes meet his own. “Touch me all you want, but I determine when you come.”

“Yes, Mistress,”

The whine he lets out goes straight to your core, lips parting in a silent moan. Only, you feel his whole body stiffen beneath you.

Glancing up reveals him staring down at you worriedly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You’ve never discussed the use of certain names within the confines of the bedroom, and he’s not sure how you may react. However, at the way you’re staring at him, eyes dark with nothing but love and lust for him, he has a feeling you’re rather enjoying yourself right now.

You quirk a brow, the corner of your lips twitching upwards, “Good Boy.”

The moan that tumbles from his mouth is shameless, and his cock twitches once more. He can feel your hand tighten slightly around him, pumping him a few times as you begin placing open mouthed kisses along the underside of his cock.

“Oh, fuck- My Queen,” he hisses, hips shifting involuntarily beneath your hold. “Your mouth-“ he pants, eyes squeezing shut as a high-pitched whine escapes him. “Your tongue.”

A pleasant hum is all the response he gets as you suckle one of his balls into your mouth. The second Hongjoong feels your tongue caressing his skin, his hips jerk, more precome leaking from his tip.

“Feels so-“ a choked moan escapes him as you hum around him, “Fuck- you feel amazing.”

A soft giggle slips passed your lips as you release him, wasting no time to take his hard cock into the warmth of your mouth. Gently, you suckle at his tip, swirling your tongue around him as you lower yourself further onto him. The pleased hums you continuously let out only serve to reverberate sinfully against his shaft, making his thighs shake as his one hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

“Don’t stop,” he whimpers, gaze desperate and pleading as he meets your own. “My Queen-“ he gasps, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “Don’t fucking stop.”

The whole time you move over him, you make sure to watch his every expression. You can feel yourself practically beginning to drip down your thigh through your ruined panties, the sounds he’s providing for you going straight to your core.

A pride builds in your chest as you work your tongue over his hard cock. You’ve never seen Hongjoong look this disheveled, his normally composed appearance giving way to a man absolutely lost within the pleasure you’re providing for him now. It makes you wonder if this is how he always looks when he thinks of you, if you’ve always been able to make him lose his composure just from a single touch.

From the way he’s moaning for you now, your name falling like a sinful mantra meant only for your ears, you know it to be true.

Simply knowing that you have this profound effect on him makes your whole body come alight in awe. The fact that he can allow himself to be this vulnerable with you, and you with him, means the world to you. To have him, an all powerful King at your complete mercy with his cock down your throat, has you smiling against him. To know that he trusts you, that he has always trusted you is a feeling unlike any other. A feeling which you gladly share, for there is no one else you could ever want - no one else you could ever need - when he is right here, ready and willing to provide you with everything and anything you could ever possibly desire.

Such a pretty cock, My King, you repeat your words from earlier, your mouth full of him as your tongue continues to swirl around his shaft. I could worship it all night long.

A choked moan slipped passed his lips, his hips bucking upwards slightly. The hand he has holding onto the back of your head tightens its grip, and his chest heaves with every breath he takes.

“Please, My Queen,” he whines lowly, thighs tensing as he attempts to hold himself back.

Coming so soon, My King? Your voice feigns concern, and it only causes him to twitch within your mouth again. More intense than just a mere fantasy, isn’t it?

“Better.” He moans, head being tossed back upon your pillows. “Better than any fantasy.”

You hum around him once more, your free hand coming up to start caressing his balls.

A loud curse and cry of your name are the only warnings you get before you feel him twitch, coming down your throat. His hand on the back of your head holds you there, and you feel the faintest of pricks digging into your skin, but not enough to draw blood.

You smile around his cock, helping him through his orgasm and letting him lightly thrust into your mouth as he comes down. Your tongue works to gather any of his release that might have escaped you, finally moving off of him with a small pop as you giggle lowly.

You lick your lips, absolutely revelling in the low growls that rumble out of his chest with every exhale that he makes. His hand finally loosens its hold on your head, bringing it around to cup the side of your face. Gently, his thumb begins stroking over your cheek as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Could you get anymore perfect?” His voice rumbles out, lips parting as he watches you smile up at him from between his legs.

Again, you giggle, wiping at the corner of your mouth with your thumb almost teasingly.

In the blink of an eye, Hongjoong has you pinned beneath him again. His kiss is desperate, tongue stroking over your own as he moans deeply into your mouth. His hands trace down your sides, and you faintly register the feeling of something sharp trailing in their wake.

A shiver caresses your spine as you realize he’s teasing you with his claws. The moment his hands settle on your hips, you feel those familiar little pricks digging into your skin and you moan shamelessly into his mouth.

The briefest of flashes of a thought within your mind has him smirking against your lips.

“I promise that I’ll ravish you in my true form another night, My Love.” His words are but a whisper against your lips, but you still cannot prevent the way you shudder for a second time in his arms. “Right now, I wish to take my time loving you.”

You smile up at him, meeting his tender gaze for the nth time this night, “I’m yours, Hongjoong.”

“As I am yours, My Love.” He returns your soft expression. “Now, as tempted as I am to tear this stunning ensemble from your body, I’d rather not ruin such a precious memory. Would you?”

“I couldn’t agree more, My King.” You reply gently.

Carefully, Hongjoong helps you sit up. His hands slip around your back, skillfully undoing the clasp of your bra and watching as you slide the material from your shoulders. His gaze is nothing but loving as he trails it all over your now exposed torso, hands reaching out to caress your breasts as he helps you lay back down on the mattress.

“Like I said before,” he breathes out, eyes darting from your figure to your own as nothing but awe shines within his. “Perfect.”

He emphasizes his words with a tender squeeze of his hands, massaging your breasts as his thumbs flick over your pert nipples. Slowly, he kisses back down your neck, nipping along the swells of your breasts once he reaches your chest. He continues to cup them so eagerly in his hands, humming lowly against you as he takes his time pressing his lips to your skin.

The second his mouth encases one of your nipples, sucking gently, you moan. The sound is but a sweet melody, one which Hongjoong wishes to continue to elicit from you for as long as he can this evening.

Flicking his tongue over your nipple, he’s quick to release it and move to the other. Giving the opposite the same attention, his low, pleased moans only serve to echo your own, his cock twitching excitedly against you once more.

Slowly, he kisses his way down your stomach, his hands taking their time to caress your sides. His movements are precise, making sure you can feel how much he admires you in his every touch. He hums, laving his tongue over your skin and smiling into each press of his lips against you every time your chest stutters. Wet, open mouthed kisses are placed, almost like a halo, around your stomach, his hands squeezing and massaging your flesh appreciatively.

“There is not a single part of you that I am not in love with,” the admission is but a low drawl against your skin, his dark eyes peeking up at you as he settles himself further between your legs.

“Joongie,” the sigh of his name is nothing short of tender.

“Every part of you is absolutely sinful, My Love. You have enraptured me with your very being, and I will kill anyone who says otherwise.” A low growl reverberates in his chest.

Your breath hitches, heart fluttering inside of your chest as you stare down at him.

Again, Hongjoong meets your gaze.

“You got to taste me this evening,” his voice is but a mere rumble as he hooks his fingers beneath the waistline of your ruined panties. “Now, it’s my turn to taste you.”

In one swift movement, he’s helping you strip yourself of your panties, pushing your thighs open as he settles between them once more. A guttural groan escapes him as his eyes zero in on your pussy, seeing you clench around nothing from his gaze alone. The fact that he can see your essence glinting in the light of the setting sun has a pleased growl rumbling in his chest, your scent completely surrounding him and making his head spin.

You are absolutely intoxicating. The sight of your bare pussy, which he has desperately longed to worship himself, dripping and practically begging for him to touch, has his cock absolutely throbbing against your sheets. For too long has he simply fantasized about this moment, and now that it’s here, he’s going to savour it for all eternity.

“Fuck- look at you,” he pants, licking his lips as his eyes flash black. “Already a mess; just begging for my tongue to have a taste.”

A low moan escapes you, and from the smirk that pulls at his features, you can tell he can physically see you clench around nothing.

He looks up at you, meeting your gaze as his eyes shine. His fingers sink firmly into the skin of your thighs, holding your legs apart as he watches you carefully. Every breath that escapes him boarders on a low growl, his lips parting as he breathes you in.

Softly, your one hand comes up to comb through his hair. Your fingers gently brush the strands away from his eyes, and you smile as you feel him lean into your touch.

His eyes flutter shut.

“You are my greatest desire,” he breathes out, fingers tightening ever so slightly over your thighs. “I will never stop wanting you, My Love. My heart beats for you, and you alone.”

Your heart swells with warmth, spreading outward from your chest and to the very tips of your fingers. A feeling you are becoming all too used to this evening, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Briefly, his eyes flit back to your weeping entrance, moaning lowly. “How I’ve been longing for a taste…”

Hongjoong goes to lean into you, except, he doesn’t get very far.

The hand you have resting in his hair halts his every movement, holding him mere inches away from your pussy as his chest rumbles in discontent. Only, before he can protest, his eyes catch on the way your free hand comes down to part your folds using two of your fingers, putting yourself on full display for him.

You meet his gaze.

“Beg for me, My King.”

Hongjoong’s lips part, his heart stuttering pleasantly in his chest. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs, eyes flashing black as he stares, transfixed, at the way your cunt weeps for him, and him alone.

“My Queen,” the words are hardly audible over the sound of his own racing heart, “Please- I need to taste you. You don’t know how long I’ve been dying for a taste.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards, “How long, Joongie?”

“I have been craving you for what feels like an eternity, My Love,” his eyes glance up to meet your own. “Please, won’t you let me devour you? Won’t you let me make you come on my tongue? All I want to do is worship this gorgeous cunt of yours. So, please, let me make you feel good.”

Your breath catches, stomach twisting pleasantly from his words.

His gaze lowers back to your quivering pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Let me feel you dripping down my chin,” he’s panting again, but he doesn’t care. “Let me bring you to the highest of pleasures as you drown me in your cunt. I need you, My Love. You know I won’t ever be able to get enough of you…”

He trails off, and the small whimper he hears you let out sends a pleasant tingle shooting down his spine. Before he can say another word, though, you’re pulling him into you, pressing his face right into your weeping cunt.

The snarl that reverberates against you is nothing short of feral, the vibrations sending pleasant shivers up your spine as Hongjoong wastes no time at all. There’s no need to. Not when the greatest temptation of his entire life is spread out before him, whining desperately for him.

Who is he to deny His Queen?

The first taste of you on his tongue has him moaning shamelessly into you, his hands parting your thighs even further as his nails bite into your skin. Slowly, languidly, he suckles at your sweet nectar, the sloppy, wet sounds of his actions filling the space around you and making your head spin.

Hongjoong is shameless as he laves his entire mouth over your dripping cunt, humming contently as he feels you squirming beneath him. His lips have never felt a finer warmth pressing against him, his tongue delving between your folds in chase of the high you offer him with every drop. There isn’t a chance in all of the realms that he will ever get enough of this: your sounds, your taste, your cunt. The way you cling to him, thighs threatening to close around his head were he not holding them spread for himself is simply icing on the cake.

He’s desperate, and he’s not afraid to let it show.

Finest cunt I’ve ever had the honour to devour, My Love, his voice echoes lowly through your head, making you moan. Knowing you’re this wet because of me only makes me want to make you wetter.

“Hongjoong,” Tossing your head back onto the pillows, you begin to shift your hips against his mouth.

Again, the wave of your impending orgasm approaches fast, the past events of the evening having worked you up so beautifully and kept you on the brink of pleasure this whole time. That, and the added fact that it’s him that’s currently devouring you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever had the pleasure to taste in his entire life is making your head spin. You know it’s only a matter of seconds before you’re falling apart for him once more.

Your whole body twitches as his nose brushes against that sensitive little nub of yours.

Should I finally touch that aching clit of yours, My Love? Suckle it between my lips and make you come for me? He hums, and you don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s watching your every movement carefully.

“Yes, yes! Fuck- please!” You whimper, both hands now finding purchase in his hair as you tug him in closer to you.

The pleased rumble he lets out only adds to the immense amount of pleasure you’re currently feeling. Another whine tumbles shamelessly from your mouth as you feel him dip his tongue between your folds, soon dragging it upwards.

Your whole body twitches, a loud moan falling from your lips the moment he flicks his tongue over your clit. His movements are quick, yet precise, watching you carefully as he suckles that little bundle of nerves between his lips. The eager way his tongue swirls over that swollen bud immediately afterwards has your head spinning, voice close to breaking as your moans rise in pitch.

I know you’re close, My Love. The smile he wears can be felt against your cunt, and it makes your heart flutter. I don’t want you to hold back.

“Never,” you shake your head, too lost in the moment to realize what you’re saying as the word spills from you like a mantra.

Give it to me, His voice is but a growl inside of your mind, his grip tightening on your thighs. Let me feel you drowning me in your love. Let me get lost in this gorgeous pussy that could only belong to My Queen.

A pleasant feeling begins building within your abdomen, intense and tight. You’ve only recalled ever feeling it once before, but you’re too far gone to care. The way he’s making you feel is like having your whole body floating in ecstasy, head spinning as you attempt to ground yourself.

“It’s yours. I’m yours,” you mutter, eyes fluttering shut as you succumb to the pleasure he’s providing you.

You fail to see the way his brow quirks slightly, nothing but a feral devotion and love shining within his eyes as he snarls against you.

“Mine.” The word is muffled into your folds, the touch of his one hand leaving your thigh only to immediately slide two fingers into your dripping cunt. “All mine.”

The moment he curls those two fingers within you, pressing right up against the most sensitive part of your walls, you scream.

His name is no more than a high pitched wail, your entire body trembling as your back arches off of the bed. Your orgasm crashes into you, vision going white as you feel yourself let go, your release flooding out of you and onto his hand.

Snarls, deep and feral, greet your ears. Still, your vision is fuzzy, and you attempt to blink your eyes back into focus as your chest continues to heave with every breath you make. You can feel a certain wetness coating your thighs, dripping down your skin only to be caught by something warm tracing the trails back upwards along your flesh.

Finding enough strength within, you tilt your head to peer down at Hongjoong still resting between your legs. He’s taken the liberty to remove his fingers from you, his hand back on your thigh and spreading you open for him. Your feet are no longer pressed against the mattress as he holds your thighs, pushing your legs towards your chest so he has unrestricted access to your dripping cunt.

Though his eyes remain fixated on your entrance, walls still spasming from the aftereffects of your orgasm, he takes his time to trace his tongue along your inner thighs. Every last drop of your release, he cleans, tracing over the paths of your sweet nectar that shine enticingly against your skin. Pleased rumbles continue to shake his chest, of which gleams with that same essence, that silver chain with the One Ring dangling almost hypnotically over his heart.

Sensually, he begins laving his mouth over your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your weeping cunt with every kiss.

“I didn’t-“ his chest heaves, “know-” a kiss to the innermost part of your one thigh, “you could do that.”

Lightly, you swallow, your throat already feeling raw and overused.

“It’s still a shock for me, too.” Your voice is a bit rough, managing to speak through your own heavy breaths.

A pleasant hum greets your ears, and your whole body shudders as you feel him lave his mouth sensually over your entrance once more. Gently, he begins tracing his tongue over your swollen lips, licking every last drop of release from your pussy that you have to offer him.

I’m tempted to see if I can make you squirt again, My Love. He moans against you, the thought alone driving him insane.

Your one leg twitches in response, feeling just how wet you’ve made your sheets as they press into your ass.

As much as I want to please you until you pass out from pleasure tonight, he begins, languidly licking from your entrance all the way up to your clit. Gently, he circles that sensitive little nub with the tip of his tongue, hearing your breath stutter pleasantly as another choked moan escapes you. I want to slow things down for a bit. Let you feel every aspect of my devotion to you with every flick of my tongue.

“Joongie,” A soft gasp is all you can offer him as he completely slows his pace, sensually moving his lips over your cunt as if he were kissing your mouth, just like he did earlier.

That’s it, My Love, his own eyes flutter closed as he wraps his lips around your clit. Carefully, he suckles on that little bundle of nerves, shaking his head lightly from side to side. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.

“So good, My Love,” you breathe out, lips parting as your chest rises and falls in uneven pants. You hum, your nails scratching at his scalp faintly as you continue to hold him in your grip. “Incredible.”

Hongjoong’s pleased rumble reverberates against your core. Using his tongue, he parts your folds once more, letting the warm muscle explore every inch of you that he can reach. The way you feel around him, let alone the way you continue to positively drip down his face, makes his whole body come alive. Not to mention the way you taste.

Such a pretty pussy, My Love, his voice continues to echo shamelessly through your head as he flicks at your clit. And all mine to devour.

A moan tumbles from your lips as you clench around his tongue, “Yours.”

Hongjoong shifts impossibly closer, pressing himself deeper into you.

Is this really my pretty pussy to devour? His already dark gaze flashes black, emphasizing his words with a pointed suck to your clit. Are you this wet because of me?

“Yes,” the admission falls like a chant from your lips, nothing but pure pleasure coursing through your veins. “All yours.” You pant. “All for you.”

A pleased chuckle reverberates against your core, making you moan.

Mine. One of his hands shift, pulling one of your own free in order to intertwine your fingers with his. Carefully, he rests your joined hands on your stomach, gazing upon you with nothing but love in his gaze. You’re mine, My Queen. And I am yours.

“My King.” A soft gasp causes your breath to hitch in your throat. “My Joongie.”

That’s right, My Queen, Slowly, Hongjoong begins to grind himself down onto your mattress in time with the movements of his tongue over your dripping cunt. I am yours. I will forever only be yours.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you moan lowly.

He squeezes your hand.

Now, let me claim this pretty pussy just like My Queen has always desired me to. A pleased rumble shakes his chest as he focusses his attention back on your clit for the moment.

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from his words alone, clinging onto his hand for dear life as the fingers of your opposite hand tighten once more in his hair. All you can offer him are whimpers and whines of his name, accompanied by low moans as you completely succumb to the pleasure that he is providing to you.

Every movement of his tongue over your clit is precise. His eyes never leave your face for a single second as he traces specific patterns over you. Not just any patterns, special ones he has long since desired to draw over this precious cunt of yours. Each stroke begins directly over your clit before he’s dragging his tongue outwards, as if tracing a very specific design over you.

He is.

In the ancient tongue, Hongjoong delicately traces his name over your clit. The movements are precise, and with each stroke, his eyes darken.

Each flick of his tongue brings you closer and closer to the edge once more, and you absolutely revel in the slow, languid pace he’s set this time around. The gradual increase of pleasure from such a slow build up seems to only intensify every feeling, your chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut. Pleasure threatens to drown you at any moment, and you find yourself eagerly jumping into it without a second of hesitation.

You know that Hongjoong will be there each and every time you fall to catch you. So, you let yourself go.

His name falls like a mantra from your lips in desperate whines, combined with breathless whimpers of your nickname for him. The fact that you call him your Joongie has his cock twitching once more against the mattress as he watches you fall apart for him. All because of him.

That’s it, My Love, he hums, suckling your clit between his lips and helping to ride you through your high. Such beauty. He moans against you. I can never get enough of you falling apart on my tongue.

Your lips part in a silent gasp, gazing down upon him with such a fond look in your eyes, that Hongjoong is sure to drown in it. Not even a moment later, he feels you attempting to pull him back up to you, and he is more than happy to oblige.

Without wasting another second, Hongjoong is hovering over you once more, pressing himself flush against your body. A moan escapes him as he kisses you just as eagerly as you kiss him, holding you to him in every way that he’s only ever dreamed about. The fact that you wrap a leg around his side to pull him in even closer makes his head spin.

Slowly, your one hand creeps up his chest, and he pulls the slightest bit away out of curiosity. His throat bobs as he swallows, noticing how you hook that necklace he wears through your hand, your one finger seemingly slipping into the golden band hanging from the silver chain.

Gently, you caress the side of his face, the cool of the metal contrasting the heat from his skin.

“I love you, Joongie,” you meet his gaze, your own flitting between his dark eyes as you stare lovingly into them. “So much.”

“You are everything I could have ever asked for, and so much more, My Queen.” He breathes, holding himself above you as nothing but love for you pours into his every movement.

“The feeling is very much mutual, Joongie.” You smile, thumb caressing his cheek tenderly. A breath, and your gaze darkens. “Now, become one with me, My King.”

Leaning forward, Hongjoong rests his forehead against your own, a content rumble building within his chest. “It would be my honour, My Queen.”

The next time Hongjoong presses his lips to yours is slightly different than all of the rest. This time, it’s slower, and much more tender than anything you’ve ever felt from him before. His lips move against yours as if telling a story - the story of your love, and how it will forever be interwoven in your lives for years to come. It tells of the hardships you’ve faced, the struggles and fights, but more than all of that, the unyielding strength and resolve you’ve both had to come this far.

He loves you. Desperately. Unwaveringly. Unconditionally.

Forevermore.

Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever take this moment - you, him, your love, your very souls - away from each other.

Gently, Hongjoong shifts his hips, bringing a hand down to align himself with your entrance. Teasingly, he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, bumping against your clit a few times and making you moan. Only, he pauses, the head of his cock just pressing against your entrance as he looks up to meet your gaze once more.

“Are you-“ he swallows thickly, “Are you sure?”

You take this time to study his features, eyes flitting everywhere over his face. You note the slight furrow of his brows, the clenching of his jaw as he holds himself above you. His jaw ticks as his chest heaves, nothing but tender love and affection shining within his gaze as he looks upon you like you are his entire world.

To him, you are.

The fact that, despite his own raging desires - his very need for you - as he is mere seconds away from pressing into you, he still holds your comfort and wellbeing so highly, lets you know exactly how to feel in this moment here with him. You have no hesitance, nor regret for your decision right now, and time and time again, Hongjoong has proved just how worthy he is. How worthy he’s always been, especially to you.

“More sure of anything than I’ve ever been in my entire life, Hongjoong.” You reply, reaching up to cup his face tenderly in both of your hands. “I want this.” You lean up to peck his lips. “I want you.”

Nothing but love shines within his gaze as he fully presses himself against you, slowly beginning to push into you as he claims your lips with his own. The languid movement of his tongue on yours is synonymous with the gentle push of his hips, moaning into your mouth as he sinks into you inch by slow inch.

Involuntarily, you clench around him, walls fluttering against his cock as you feel him fully sheath himself within you. The way he fits, almost perfectly, inside of you makes you moan, your hands shifting to his back to pull him into you closer.

Parting from your lips, Hongjoong groans. There’s a slightly deeper furrow to his brow as he focusses on remaining still inside of you until you give him the okay to move. For too long has he dreamt of this moment, and now that it’s finally here, nothing could have prepared him for the absolute euphoria that is your tight, wet heat surrounding all of him.

“Fuck- Joongie,” your breathless voice reaches his ears, and he focusses on placing small, tender kisses against the skin of your neck to ground himself. “You feel so good inside me.”

His cock twitches, feeling your walls clench around him almost rhythmically.

“My Love-” he manages to get out through pants. “Fuck- My Love-”

Gently, your one hand comes up to begin threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. You hold him to you, purposely clenching around him as the nails of your opposite hand dig into his back.

“I was made for you, My Queen,” his nose trails gently up along your racing pulse, his lips finding purchase on the skin right below your ear. “Made to hold you, to cherish you, to worship you.” He nips at the shell of your ear, voice rumbling out in a low growl. “Made to love you.”

He can hear the hitch in your breath, and it only makes him smile.

“Please, Joongie,” Your grip tightens around him, a small whimper falling from you lips.

The slight shift of your hips against his own is everything he craves, his heart racing alongside your own. It’s all he needs to know that you’re ready, simply waiting for him to fulfill his every promise, and become one together like you both so strongly desire.

Pulling away to stare deeply into your eyes, Hongjoong slowly begins grinding his hips into yours. The gasp you let out as he pulls almost all the way out of you, only to roll his hips back into your own has another small smile pulling at his features.

Gently, he reaches up to take your hand in his. Ever so carefully, he turns his head, never once faltering in the slow, sensual grind of his hips against your own with every soft thrust into you. With the utmost of grace, he places a kiss onto the back of your palm, his eyes fluttering shut as he absolutely revels in this moment, right here, right now, with you.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, My Love,” he breathes, intertwining your fingers together as he rests your hands on the mattress beside your head. “You are mine, and you always will be. Just as I will always be yours.”

A tender moan slips passed your lips, feeling as if your heart is close to bursting from your chest with how much it swells with nothing but love for him inside of you.

“You are worth every second I spent without you in my life, just to be able to get the chance to love you now.” The admission is but a whisper on his lips, but still, he never once stops the movement of his hips.

“I-“ A low moan escapes you, your hand on his back pulling him in closer as you nearly lose yourself to the feeling of him sensually grinding himself into your. You wet your lips. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

Immediately, he’s shaking his head as he stills inside of you.

“I would wait forever if it meant getting to be with you like this, even just once.” There is only the deepest form of both love and sincerity shining within Hongjoong’s eyes as he meets your gaze. “Forever, and a day.”

Your breath hitches, heart swelling once more inside of your chest. Your expression softens and you bring the hand you have resting on his back around to tenderly cup the side of his face.

“How lucky we are, then, to have finally found each other.”

He smiles softly, resting his forehead against your own. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, My Queen.”

You mirror his expression, the tips of your fingers beginning to tingle where you cling to him.

“Now, make love to me, My King,” Your voice is but a whisper as you stare into his loving eyes. “Let us finally become one.”

His heart flutters, gaze darkening as he shifts himself above you, “With pleasure.”

Rolling his hips sensually into yours, Hongjoong absolutely adores how you immediately sigh so blissfully in response. Your eyes flutter shut as his free hand comes down to grasp your thigh, pulling your leg up and around his waist as he slowly thrusts into you. Every grind of his hips into yours has you sighing, lips parting as soft breaths escape you.

Each movement of his is slow. Precise. He needs you to feel his love, needs you to understand that his every breath, his every thought, all of him, is for you. Always and forever, he is yours. He lives for you, and only you. Right now, he intends to make you drown in him, just as he’s always been consumed by you.

“You’re taking me so well, My Love,” He moans lowly, teeth grazing the side of your neck.

A pleased hum escapes you, “Made for you.”

Softly, he growls, his hips snapping the slightest bit harder into your own from your words.

“Filling me so well, My King,” You clench around him in time with your words, and his hips falter only slightly. “I can never get enough of you.”

His lips are on your own without another thought, increasing his pace as he thrusts into you. Still, his movements are sensual, but there’s a slight urgency to the way he buries his cock within your warm walls now, loving how he can hear every whimper and whine you give him.

“Fuck- I love you, My Queen,” he emphasizes his words with a sharp thrust into you, his fingers harshly digging into the skin of your thigh as if to pull you even closer. “I love everything about you,” his voice is strained, low and guttural.

“I love your body,” another sharp thrust is given, his voice but a growl on his lips.

“I love your mind,” his forehead presses against your own as he snaps his hips into yours.

“Your very soul is perfect.” A pleased rumble reverberates in his chest as his eyes flash black. “Perfect for me.”

“Hongjoong,” you pull him flush against you, your head getting tossed back onto the pillows as your eyes flutter shut. You clench around him. “Hongjoong, please-“

At another particularly sharp thrust, your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes roll.

“Again,” his voice growls out. “Say it again.”

Immediately, you comply, moaning out his name as your one hand desperately begins to claw at his back.

The shiver you feel caress his spine makes you smile.

A deep, guttural groan escapes him, burying his face into the side of your neck as he increases the pace of his thrusts. What truly makes him snarl is the feeling of you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him ever closer into you.

You can do nothing but whimper beneath him now, the nails of your one hand raking down his back as you squeeze his with your other. Each thrust he offers you is angled precisely, the tip of his cock rubbing against that special spot inside of you as you can do nothing but lose yourself to the pleasure he is providing you.

“My Beautiful Queen,” he snarls, teeth nipping at your tender flesh before he’s soothing over the bites with his tongue. “Fuck- your pussy is mine. Mine to please. Mine to love. Mine to fill until you’re satisfied.”

A moan escapes you, and your legs tighten around his waist. Lightly, you nip at his ear, your walls squeezing him so sinfully. “Your cock is mine, My King.”

A feral snarl, deeper than any you’ve ever heard him make before, tears from his throat.

“All for you, My Queen.” His hips snap desperately into your own, the wet sounds of skin on skin only serving to fuel his every movement further. “I was made to serve you, to please you in every way. My cock is yours, let me use it to fill you with my endless love.”

An endless stream of ‘yes’ falls from your lips, eyes nearly rolling as you feel the familiar prick of his claws against your ass as he angles you to meet his every thrust.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, My Love?” You manage to choke out, voice low and gravelly. “Feel how my love drips endlessly for you.”

Hongjoong’s hips stutter, his cock throbbing deep within you as his brow furrows. Your words nearly have his own eyes rolling, but he forces himself to hold off for now. He needs to see you come again for him. He needs to be the sole reason you’re screaming his name once more.

Slowly, the gentlest of touches begins to caress your mind. It’s warm, and soft, not unlike the feeling of sunlight on a beautiful summer’s day. It originates from the very tip of his red string at the edge of your void, beginning to seep outwards through your mind as you feel a gentle tug pulling at your whole being. The feeling is like being opened and surrounded at the same time, but it’s pleasant none the less, and you begin to feel an intense pressure building within your very core.

He has to time it perfectly.

“I need you-“

“You have me, Joongie,” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to the side to give him better access to your neck. “You will always have me, My Hongjoong.”

A earth-shattering roar tears from his throat.

Reaching his hand up, Hongjoong doesn’t even realize he’s grabbed onto the handle of your dagger. Harshly, he drags the blade through the wood of your headboard, eyes the deepest black they’ve ever been as a complete and utter feeling of euphoria floods his veins. His face buries itself in the side of your neck, fangs piecing your flesh right at the juncture where it meets your shoulder.

Instantly, your blood is flooding his senses, but that’s not all.

Memories begin appearing in his mind as he feels his soul and yours finally becoming one, dancing within the very depths of your beings and finally merging as he has always intended.

Memories that are not his own.

Through your eyes, he sees you turning around to face that makeshift front desk they set up all those long months ago. He feels the genuine surprise you felt when you first laid your eyes upon him, but also the spark of attraction that announced itself upon your first meeting.

He sees flashes of memories here and there of the very first days you had known each other. He feels the uncertainty, the caution, but soon, those originally negative emotions give rise to more gentle, pleasant ones. A fact of which that makes his heart swell inside of his chest.

The garden appears before his very eyes, and he sees himself gazing upon you with such fondness in his eyes as you thank him for creating such a space for you. He hears you telling him that maybe, just maybe, loving him won’t be such a bad thing after all. The way he can feel your heart warming in that moment says it all.

The time at the mall spent with all of them is the next memory to flood his senses, and he is privy to how good you felt after you condemned that bastard all those months ago. He observes the various subtle glances you gave him that day, all of which he thought were too good to be true. Yet, there he sits, directly across from you at that table, and sure enough, you keep glancing towards him. That fact that your curiosity is now running unfiltered through his mind, combined with the fact that you’ve always wanted to know more about him makes his head spin.

So many of these scenes, and more, play out in his mind as he feels you completely consuming him in the best of ways. All he knows in this moment is you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

The garden makes a reappearance, and he sees himself holding your hand tenderly in his own. His arm is wrapped around you as you both sit on that bench together, gazing upon the fountain. His breath hitches as both your thoughts and feeling wash over him, whole body stilling as he hears your voice echo throughout his head.

“Yeah,” you sigh to yourself, settling further against his side. “I think I might be falling in love with him.”

Hongjoong doesn’t exactly know the precise moment you fell in love with him, but if he thinks about it, he can’t exactly pinpoint the moment he knew he was in love with you, either. All he does know, is that every single emotion you’ve ever felt towards him, both the good and the bad, flood his very being right now. Emotions which overwhelm him in the best of ways.

Then, a more recent, unfamiliar memory makes itself apparent. It’s of you, alone in the shower, your back pressed firmly against the wall. It’s as if he’s an outside party, getting the first glance at the beautiful sight that is you, naked and wet, pleasing yourself to the thought of him.

His breath catches.

You’ve thought of him. You weren’t just telling him what he wanted to hear earlier. You’ve actually made yourself come to the thought of him.

Carefully, his eyes trail over your figure, noting the hand you have over your mouth in attempts to keep quiet as you press the shower head to your aching clit. Slowly, your hips begin to grind against the spray of water, small whimpers escaping you. Though, that’s not truly what makes his head spin.

Your thoughts from this exact moment in time shamelessly wash over him now, and he gets a front row seat to such fantasies you’ve seemingly always had about him. A fact which makes him smirk, a pleased rumble building within his chest as he fully submerges himself to the feeling of you and your thoughts flooding his mind.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

You, on the other hand, are fairing no better.

Just as you speak those final words to him, you feel Hongjoong twitch deep within you. His claws only sink into your skin for a brief moment before you feel him burying his fangs deep within your neck. The sensations, combined with everything that has built up to this moment makes you scream his name, back arching as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Suddenly, you see yourself walking through the front doors to the house. Though, you suppose it was considered a hotel back then. Still, the thoughts that flood your senses now are not your own, and it only takes you another minute to realize that you’re living his own memories of you right now.

You can feel his excitement at finally getting to see you in person, and the way he shudders at the first whiff of your scent that graces his senses. You hear his thoughts, shamelessly praising you and your beauty as you talk to him, and your heart feels as if it’s going to burst from his lingering emotions the very first time you smile at him.

A blink, and you’re watching yourself flee the dining room that night where it all went down. You can feel the pleasant growl that reverberates within him as he pulls the knife out of his chest, staring down at that blade fondly as thoughts of your bravery and skill fill his mind. You even feel just how affected he is by your actions, pure pleasure coursing through his veins as he chases after you without a second thought.

An array of moments you don’t recall flit through your mind next. Some are from before you came to them, while others are longing glances he’s given to you while you’ve been in the same room together. You feel his every need, his every desire for you - the desire to prove himself to you and make you his in every meaning of the word.

You feel his jealousy, especially when he barges into Seonghwa’s tailor shop to see you inches away from kissing his brother.

You feel his hope in the garden, bright and vibrant, as your words echo like a siren’s song through his mind after that very special moment you shared. The first of many more to come.

You see him, in the shower, cracking the tiles on the wall beneath his grip as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Shamelessly, his thoughts wash over you. Every fantasy he ever had that night is yours to behold, watching him beg and moan to the mere thought of you. You hear his desperation in the way he moans your name, spilling all over his hand as his heart beats for you, and only you.

Slowly, you drift through all of his memories of you until you finally feel yourself coming back to settle within your own mind. It’s heavy, and a bit cloudy, but you’re finally able to pinpoint the tingling feeling of your limbs, fingers twitching as you continue to hold Hongjoong so delicately to you.

Carefully, you blink, eyes focussing in on the ceiling above you to further ground yourself. You can feel his lips placing tender kisses against your neck, tongue already soothing over the bite you’re sure now sits proudly against your skin. His cock still rests buried deep within you, and you can feel your combined fluids leaking out of you onto your thighs.

Except, you don’t care.

You pull him closer.

A low chuckle greets your ears, “Welcome back, My Love.”

All you can mange in response is a hum, nuzzling your face into the side of his own neck. You inhale deeply, humming pleasantly at the intoxicating scents that begin filling your every sense.

“Come on,” he goes to pull away. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A loud whine escapes you, and all you manage to do is tighten your hold over him, ensuring that he cannot go anywhere.

“My Love, you need to at least drink some water,” his own voice is rough, albeit amused, and slightly gravelly in tone as he strokes a tender hand down your side.

Your body suddenly feels as if it’s made of lead, eyelids threatening to fall shut as sleep tugs at the edges of your subconscious. Already, your vision begins to blur at the corners.

“Alright, My Love,” he chuckles lowly once more. “At least drink this.”

Your brow furrows in slight confusion until you feel him lean into you. His neck is presented to you, and you notice his one hand coming up to attempt to create a small slit in his skin for you.

Only, you’re quicker.

It’s as if your body immediately knows exactly what to do, recalling the moment you bit into Jongho’s wrist. Your one hand comes up to grasp Hongjoong’s hair, tugging his head to the side as you lean in to begin suckling softly at his neck.

A low moan greets your ears, and you feel his cock twitch deep inside of you.

You smirk.

A choked moan of your name escapes passed Hongjoong’s lips as he feels you bite down on his neck. He feels your teeth, suddenly sharper than he ever recalls them being, sinking into his flesh, soon followed by the gentle laving of your tongue over the bite.

His eyes flutter closed in bliss.

A soft, albeit pleased hum escapes you as you feel his blood flooding your senses. The subtle taste of strawberry cheesecake greets your tongue, and you suckle all too eagerly at the wound.

Lowly, a growl rumbles from deep within your chest.

You freeze, pulling away to blink up at him owlishly, his blood now painting your lips that sinful shade of red, “I- uh-“

Before you can get another word out, his lips are on yours, calming your mouth with a slow, yet sensual kiss. His own chest rumbles in satisfaction as his hands settle lightly onto your waist. Then, ever so carefully, he flips your positions, letting you rest on his chest while his cock still remains buried deep inside of you.

“Get some rest, My Love,” he places gentle kisses over your face, arms wrapping securely around your waist. “I’ve got you.”

The sound of gentle chimes seem to echo in the distance, and it makes you smile.

“I love you, Joongie,” you mumble, eyes already fluttering shut as you settle your head onto his chest, resting softly above his beating heart. “I always will.”

Hongjoong smiles, a low, pleased hum escaping him at your words.

“And I love you, My Queen.” He places a tender kiss onto your forehead, relaxing fully into this moment with you as his eyes fall shut. “Until the end of time.”

Again, the soft sound of chimes echoes in the distance, and it’s that thought - that warmth - that you feel surrounding you as you rest in his arms which lulls you to sleep, basking in the embrace of the one who loves you most.

The one who will always love you.

More than life itself.

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere ateez #yandere hongjoong #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #yandere kpop #hongjoong smut #hongjoong scenarios #kpop smut #kpop scenario #demon au #kpop au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Life in the City 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: I think I'm addicted to thick men.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Tuesday sees a new block in your calendar. The three hour meeting stands out in the internal calendar as its highlighted bright yellow. You don’t know where it’s come from. You’re nervous.

Have you done something wrong? Is this a firing? Does that really take three hours?

You try not to let your innate insecurity get the best of you. You click on it but the new window offers little more than the time. All participants are hidden and there’s no description aside from ‘meeting’. The only other information is the conference room number. Right, so you’re going to implode in the hour leading up to it.

You try to focus but the Excel lines are much tighter than usual. They seem to blur together as you file through a thousand different possibilities and none of them are good. What do you do if you are in trouble? If you do lose your job? You have nothing to fall back on.

You get up ten minutes from the start of the meeting. The building is still new to you and you have to check the placards on the wall to make sure you’re at the right conference room. The door is already open and you slow down as you see Tony strut through ahead of you. This definitely seems off. He’s one of the top execs…

What if it’s a mistake? What if you were added by accident? Maybe you misunderstood it. Maybe it was a notice to stay away. Oh, you’re so confused.

You enter the room and hug your notebook to your chest. The table against the far wall is arranged with trays of catering; pastries, fruits, veggies, quiche, all sorts of delights. Alongside the treats are coffee and tea and a frosty jug of water.

Tony helps himself to a cup of coffee and several tarts. Several other seats are already filled. You vaguely recognise them, not all by name, but you know they’re from various departments. You sit at the table and lay your notebook down, nervously gripping the spiral as you flick your thumb against the tip of the pen slid within.

No one else seems to notice you. They all know each other and chatter among themselves. Five including you. Not very many at all. You wait, wondering who called the meeting as no one seems in a hurry to begin.

The door clicks but you’re the only one who hears it as they rest or deep in conversation. You peek over as Thor strides to the head of the table, stopping behind the high-backed chair.

“I hope you all helped yourselves to the wonderful treats,” he smiles, “don’t mind me as I grab a few before we begin.”

He carries on to the trays and you look down at your notebook. You open it to the first blank page and slide your pen free of the coil. You wiggle it between your fingers as you wait. Surely, it can’t be disciplinary. There’s food and Tony is one of the top guys.

Thor returns, a healthy mound of sweets and fruits on his plate and a steaming cup in the other. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide, sighing as he peers up and down the table. You shrink down as you sit at the opposite end.

“Well, we are all here,” he declares, drawing the silence of the rest. They all turn their attention on him. “I think some of you already know why I’ve brought you here but we have lots of time to get filled in. We’ll be taking breaks of course but we won’t waste time, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” your voices reply out of turn.

“We will be working on a very special project. It’s big news that we’ve acquired Onyx Row and it’s all well and good to put a pretty bow on it and send out a release, but we have to handle all that background noise. We have to figure out how that works,” he explains.

You’re almost hypnotised by his voice and the way he moves his hands as he speaks. He’s so confident and carefree. You envy him as much as you admire him.

“You have all been handpicked to take this on,” he pauses to look at each and every one of you. “We need a strong team. We’ll have new clients to take it and to retain, we’ll have new profits but new expenses as well, and we have a lot to learn about OR. We all know things are not always transparent in acquisitions.”

There’s a murmur of agreement as you stay silent. You’re still not sure you’re supposed to be here. You don’t have very much experience, just a certificate you got at the end of your degree. You chew your lip as you stare down the table, suddenly caught in the sights of another.

Thor’s blue eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples. You blanch and make yourself sit straight. You uncap your pen and quickly scribble in your notebook; Onyx Row.

“Today’s strategy planning,” Thor says, “we’ll toss some ideas around until the first break, then after that, we’ll come up with a ladder.” He stacks his hands over and over as he talks, “figure out how we climb it. Step by step.”

There’s typing on keyboards. You regret not unhooking your laptop but your notebook’s just as good for notes. Tony leans backs as he chews a quiche, crumbs dusting down his jacket.

“Stark, why don’t you write something down, eh? You’re not here for a free meal.”

“That’s what you think,” Tony scoffs playfully but lets his chair snap straight and taps on his touch pad to wake up the laptop.

“Right then,” Thor stands, “I’ve a brief presentation to get us started before we start brainstorming.”

Your stomach swims. The displacement remains but at least you’re supposed to be there. Even if you’re not sure you’re the right choice. Everyone else in the room is a veteran and you’re just you. That’ll have to do.

Or maybe you’ll just show yourself to be a total noob.

🏙️

At the midpoint of the meeting, several new trays are added to the spread. It’s a lot for six people. You finally get up to grab a tea, steeping a bag of green in hot water, then take a small triangle of a tuna sandwich and a few pieces of fruit back to your seat. Despite the ice breakers round, you’re still shut out of the clique-like conversation of the others.

You don’t mind so much. Talk for business, nothing else. This is work. Besides, you’re so anxious you don’t know what you would say. You chalk it up as much to your own inaction as to their blatant exclusion.

The empty chair to your other side rolls back, frightening you as Thor sets down another plate of goodies and sits. You gulp and look at him as you quit your nibbling of the sandwich crust. You clear your throat and wipe your fingers on a napkin.

“Sir,” you greet with a cringing smile, “hi, er.”

“Thor will do,” he assures coolly, “are you enjoying the food?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer, trying to brighten up out of your cocoon, “it’s good.”

“Feel free to have more. There’s plenty to go around.”

“Thank you, that’s… I’m good,” you press your thumb to your index and bend and unbend your knuckle nervously.

“Tea?” He muses as he reaches to flick the small tap dangling from your cup.

“Mhm,” you nod awkwardly, “coffee burns my tum–stomach.”

He smiles broadly, “ah, mine too, but I’m stubborn.” He leans his elbow on the table, his chair turned to face you entirely, “are you nervous?”

Your eyes give you away as they widen at his blunt question. You dip your chin again, “a little. I… you know I only just started, right?”

“Yes, but you have your qualifications,” he insists.

“Yeah, uh, but…” you glance around at the others.

“But, I have faith in you. As I said, I picked every person in this room. You included. I know that new minds are as valuable as more experienced ones.”

“Well, er, thank you for taking a chance on me,” you bit your cheek and force a smile.

“You know, if no one had ever taken a chance on me, I might not be sat here with you right now,” he leans in just slightly, “everyone deserves their chance to prove themselves. I have faith in you, and what about you?”

“What about me?” Your cheeks wobble.

“Do you have faith in me?” He rests his chin in his hand, watching you intently.

“Y-yes, sir, uh, Thor,” you crackle out, “thanks, I…”

“Good,” he praises and sits up, “I’ll let you finish your food, if you don’t mind that I stay and do the same.”

He swivels the chair and picks up a cracker from his plate. You hum in acquiescence, barely able to muster words. The only permission he needs is your nervous reach for your tea. As if you would tell him to go. He’s the boss.

🏙️

You’re finally let free but you don’t feel as much. You have so much more to do now. You carry with you the folder handed out to each member of the room with an exhaustive overview of your session and the Onyx Road contract.

You sit at your desk and take a moment to situate yourself. This is your priority. Everything else is second tier. That’s as much as Thor said but what are you going to do about Dawn breathing down your neck?

You fix the loose button on your cardigan that comes undone now and again, right at the worst spot; the middle. You pull the bottom straight and clear your throat, signing into your computer as you rejig back to work mode.

As you shuffle through the emails you received in your absence, a figure approaches. You delete a redundant communication before you face them. You expect Dawn but instead, an all too familiar face looks down at you. Sitting, Thor seems to tower over you even more than usual. You feel like you should stand as he bends his neck to talk to you.

“I did forget to mention some things early. As you can expect, some details slip through the cracks in such a big project,” he spreads his hand on the corner of your desk.

“Oh, okay,” you grip the arms of your chair as you peer up at him.

“IT will be around to help connect to the shared drives required for the project,” Thor explains as he leans on one foot, hooking the other over it. “You will be dealing with some very important documents. Confidential so you will also need to relocate…” he looks around briefly, “you will be moved to a private office.”

“Uh, wow, that’s… okay,” you nod with a flutter of lashes.

“It’s a lot, I know, but you will be compensated. At special projects rate, no less,” he intones as he drags his hand up his suit jacket and curls his fingers around his lapel. His fingers are so thick. All of him is. And big. You’re getting vertigo just looking up at him. “You be in your new home by the end of the day.”

“Today?” You ask, almost breathless.

“Yes, we move fast around here,” he grins, “but I also wished to tell you that should you require any support, you will come to me. Your supervisor has been informed of your reassignment and your daily duties will be handed out to your colleagues for the duration of this project.”

“Uh huh,” you croak out, “that makes sense.”

“You understand, this is a big assignment. It could require late nights and… business trips.”

“Yes,” you lie. You really hadn’t considered that. In the contract you signed, it was for a desk, there was no travel, no overtime.

“Another matter for us to deal with. Travel pay, extra hours…” he drones as if bored.

“I understand,” you murmur.

He drops his hand to frame his hip, pushing back his jacket as he stays leaned against your desk. His eyes stick to you as they storm in mystery, “I like that sweater. It’s cute.”

You look down at the flower embroidery and your cheeks singe. Compared to him and the other execs, you were a touch underdressed. That’ll probably need to change too.

“Uh, yeah, I…” you fix the loose button again, “sorry, I’ll… I’ll buy a blazer.”

“I mean it,” he drags his hand from the desk and stands straight, “don’t buy the blazer, that suits you better.”

You crane your neck to look up at him again, “thanks, sir,” you fold your hands in your lap, “I… like your tie.”

You immediately want to disappear as the words trickle out. You sound so stupid. He touches his blue grey tie patterned with white paisley and examines it.

“Not one of my favourites, but thank you,” he chuckles. “Right,” he snaps his fingers, “much work to do. For both of us.” He shifts back on his sole, “don’t forget what I said, if you need anything, I’m your man.”

He winks and spins on his heel. You watch him go as tension raises your shoulders. That was awkward and painful. You’re already doubting your place in this whole thing. Before you can turn your chair back to your desk, you don’t miss the errant gazes in your direction. You ignore them as best you can but they sear into your back. You have witnesses to your humiliation, great.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #life in the city #superman #avengers #mcu #dcu #dc #marvel

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sidekick-hero · 3 months

Text

Love from the other side

(steddie | rated: M | wc: 6.2k | tags: Vampire Eddie Munson, Nurse Steve Harrington, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking | AO3)

"Steve, we've got a major crash on the Interstate. Multiple vehicles involved. You're on triage duty. Patients will be arriving in five minutes,” Robin, the head nurse in the ER, tells him in a calm voice. She's Steve's best friend, but even he's sometimes surprised at how calm Robin can be in critical situations. He's seen her fret over the prospect of asking out a girl she likes, and her freak-out before her first date with Nancy is now something of a legend between them.

But ask her to handle a crisis and she's cool as a cucumber.

Steve sighs and nods. That means it's going to be a long night. He's already been on for ten hours, two more and he could have gone home to his cat and his warm, soft bed. But they're understaffed as it is, and with so many new patients in unknown condition coming in, he'll be here for at least another five hours. Maybe more.

He makes his way to the triage area of the ER and braces himself for what's to come.

When he finally makes it home, the sun has already risen and he's dead on his feet.

He stumbles through the front door of his apartment and is greeted by Garfield, his tabby cat, who continues to weave through his legs as he takes off his shoes, almost tripping him. He meows pitifully at Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, you poor thing. You'r treated worse here than in a shelter. Warm and cozy and dry with a human to open your tins and feed you."

Garfield meows again, this time more demanding, emphasizing the urgency with which he wants food.

Throwing up his arms, Steve relents. "Fine. Heaven forbid I get to change into something comfortable first."

As soon as he places Garfield's bowl in front of him, Steve is all but forgotten as the cat digs in. "You're welcome," he says to his beloved little freeloader, not expecting a response. He's talking to a cat, after all, but it still helps make the apartment feel less empty.

And there's no one to judge him for it. Not since Robin moved in with Nancy and he had to find a one-bedroom apartment that he could actually afford on his own.

It's not that he begrudges them their happiness, far from it. But coming home to an empty apartment and talking to his cat instead of another human being got old pretty quickly. Worse than that.

It has become lonely.

"Pull yourself together, Steve, and stop whining," he chides himself, still talking out loud.

Steve sighs. He can see himself ending up a hermit with twenty cats who never leaves the house. Deciding it's best to just go to sleep before his thoughts turn any more self-pitying, he bends down to scratch Garfield's head and tells him, "I'm going to bed."

Garfield continues to ignore him as he sips the milk Steve has placed in front of him.

Steve is off for the next two days and spends the time mostly sleeping, doing laundry, and stocking up on food after realizing he didn't even have a slice of toast for breakfast.

He also goes over to Robin and Nance's for dinner, since he's not a hopeless hermit yet. Between the three of them, they go through three bottles of wine and end up swapping stories and inside jokes until his stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

It doesn't make coming back to an empty apartment any easier.

His next shift is another night shift, and it's surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. So far, the worst he has had to deal with is a nasty cut on a drunk frat boy's forehead after the guy fell through a glass door. Steve's still surprised he didn't hurt himself worse. Head wounds bleed like crazy, though, so he looked like he had been attacked by a serial killer when his equally drunk buddies carried him to the emergency room. Seeing that only one deep cut needed stitches, while the other, shallower cuts on his arms and face would be fine on their own, had put Steve in a surprisingly good mood.

So good, in fact, that he carelessly remarked to Carol, the other nurse on duty with him, "Looks like a quiet night for once."

You could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed his statement, and Carol looked ready to murder him. He had just violated the most important rule in any hospital.

Never, under any circumstances, say the "Q" word.

"Fuck. Oh God, I didn't mean..."

"Too fucking late, Harrington." Carol huffed before stalking off, probably to complain about him to her boyfriend, who was also the hospital director's son.

Less than twenty minutes later, all hell broke loose.

A dance floor at a local club had collapsed, resulting in several dozen serious casualties, all arriving on stretchers, crowding the triage area as Steve worked on autopilot. Assess, prioritize, assist.

In the midst of the chaos, another ambulance arrives and he goes over to talk to the paramedics about taking the patient to St. John's instead because they are at capacity, which really means they were past capacity an hour ago.

One look at the patient tells him there is no time for that,

The man on the gurney was only a few years older than Steve and had a gaping wound on his neck. He was white as a sheet and there was too little blood around a wound that looks like it hit a major artery.

"What the fuck?" He can't help but ask and the paramedic shrugs with a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know, man. Found him like this and whoever called it in left before we got there."

Rolling their new patient in with hurried steps, Steve wonders if there was anything they could do. The wound needed surgery, and they needed to get blood and other fluids into the man as quickly as possible. Judging by the slow and shallow breathing and the sluggish pulse, his system has already started to shut down.

They lost him before they even got to the operating room. Steve doesn't even hear about it until hours later, when everyone who had been on the dance floor has finally been taken care of and a bone-deep exhaustion replaces the adrenaline-fueled energy in his body. He's not proud of it, but he's too tired to spare the news more than a brief burst of sadness.

Over the next weeks, seven more patients with gaping neck wounds come into the ER while Steve’s on shift, all drained of too much blood to make it past the first ten minutes under their care.

Whispers about a killer roaming the streets of Hawkins have started circulating as the number of victims rises steadily and Steve has started to sleep with a baseball bat under his bed. Just in case.

It’s early Tuesday night, four hours into his twelve hours shift, when another one comes in, this time a young girl around Steve’s age with long strawberry blonde hair and a pretty face. On her neck Steve can make out a gaping wound, just like the others had shown.

But this one is bleeding, profusely.

And the girl is awake, looking up at Steve with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay, we’re going to take care of you,” he reassures her over and over as they make their way inside, ushering her to get surgery immediately. When he gives her his warmest reassuring smile she even tries her best to smile back.

Steve hopes she makes it.

She does. Against all odds, considering that the last two dozen victims with similar injuries have all died, she makes it.

Her name is Chrissy Cunningham, and when Steve reads the name on her file, he remembers her. She was a year behind him, a cheerleader. They never really talked much, but he remembers that she was kind and talked to him after everyone else on the team and the cheerleading squad had stopped doing so.

He's glad that she survived, and he promises himself that he will check in on her as soon as his shift is over.

If it hadn't been Chrissy, if it hadn't been someone he knew, he probably never would have met Eddie.

At the end of one of those weird in-between shifts at four in the morning, Steve changes into a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie before heading over to the observatory area where they had to put Chrissy for now because a whole wing of the building is under construction due to some asbestos in the walls. She's already in stable condition, only needing fluids and antibiotics because they have no idea what bit her, so they're letting her sleep it off for now and hopefully find a room to put her in the next day.

The halls of the hospital are quiet at this time of night, especially outside the ER, and it's almost eerie. It feels like no one is here but Steve and the thought makes him shiver. All this serial killer talk is really getting to him, he thinks.

Reaching the area separated only by screens, he sees a figure standing by her bed. He can't make out much, but it appears to be a man, judging by his height, and he's leaning over the bed, talking softly to Chrissy. The man, if it is one, but the deep timber of his voice makes Steve think it is, is not wearing scrubs, but jeans and a hoodie, and Steve is pretty sure he's not hospital staff.

Suddenly, he remembers that something - or someone - must have inflicted the injury on Chrissy's neck.

"Hey, who are you, and what are you doing here?" he shouts as he runs over to the bed, and the figure turns to face him.

It is a man, with wide, dark eyes in a pale face framed by equally dark, messy curls.

"Shit, shit, shit," the man curses and bolts, moving faster than should be humanly possible. One moment he's staring at Steve like a deer in the headlights with his big bambi eyes, the next his shoulder slams into Steve, knocking him to the ground as the mysterious figure disappears from view.

He pushes himself upright and rises from the ground with a determined effort, because even though the guy doesn't look like it, it feels like he's been hit by a brick wall. When he regains his footing, he shakes off the impact and makes his way over to Chrissy to check on her.

She's awake, but too weak to sit up, though she tries.

"Shh, hey, don't strain yourself Chrissy, it's all right, he's gone. You're safe," he reassures her, a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving too much and aggravating her wound.

"No," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking her head slightly. Just when he wants to reiterate that yes, he's really gone, she continues. "He's safe. He saved me."

"What?" Steve asks, taken aback by her statement. He can tell that even the few words she has spoken have taken a toll on her, draining what little strength she has regained, but he can't help it, he needs to know what she means.

"He...saved me. Pulled him...off. Off me. Would have...killed..." she trails off, her eyelids fluttering shut and Steve lets her be.

Pulling up a chair, he sits down next to her to keep watch, just in case her savior decides to come back.

The next day Chrissy is more lucid. She's also in her own room and has already given a statement to the police when Steve comes in for his shift.

It doesn't matter though, he still has to ask her what happened, needs to know who the strange man was who continued to haunt Steve's dreams after he came home sometime in the early morning.

"I don't know who he is, Steve. He just showed up while Jason...while he," she is visibly shaken by having to remember the events of last night and Steve thinks he should tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to tell him. But he doesn't. It feels like she needs to say it as much as he needs to hear it.

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Chrissy continues, "While Jason was biting me. Mauled me, really. I think he would have torn my throat out if this man had not shown up. He slammed into Jason, ripped him off of me, and they both went down. There was a struggle, I could hear it, but everything hurt so much I couldn't move my head. It went on for a while, I don't know how long. Time was really weird. And then the guy was looking down at me, telling me to stay still, that he was going to call an ambulance, and that I just had to hang in there. He pressed something against my neck and it hurt so much, but the pain kept me there, y'know? So I wouldn't float away and never come back. He told me to stay with him and I did. Until we heard the ambulance. Then he told me he was sorry, but he had to go. And then he was gone and the paramedics took me away."

Chrissy looks very pale after telling her story, the dark rings under her eyes more pronounced than when he first entered the room. But before he can let her rest, he has one more question.

"What was he doing here?"

To Steve's surprise, the question makes Chrissy smile. "An apology, because this is no way for a lady to be left in the lurch."

Steve has no idea what to do with this information, so he just takes Chrissy's hand and squeezes it gently.

"You'll be out of here in no time, Chrissy. We will take good care of you, I promise."

"I know. Thanks, Steve."

He turns and walks away, leaving her to get back to sleep, knowing that it will be a long time before he will be able to do the same.

What the fuck is going on?

They find Jason Carver, or what is left of him, the next day. It's all over the news. No one knows why he attacked his girlfriend or who killed him. The reports leave out a lot of the gruesome details, just saying that he was torn to pieces when they found him.

Steve, of course, can't let that be all. He has to know what happened, so after his shift he sneaks down to the morgue to take a look at what is left of Jason, a guy he only knew in passing, since Steve had already left the school when Jason became captain of the basketball team, taking Steve's old position.

What he finds is a body that is badly mangled, just like the news said. There are deep wounds, chunks of flesh missing, his right arm torn from his shoulder. Though it's hard to swallow, it's not the first time Steve has seen a body destroyed almost beyond recognition. What makes him recoil from the dead man in front of him is the fact that Jason Carver's body is already decomposing as if he'd been dead for several days, maybe weeks, instead of not even 48 hours.

Steve leaves the morgue even more confused - and frightened - and heads home with the image of Jason's tattered, rotting body burned into his eyelids.

Over the next three weeks Steve sees four more victims with the same torn throats and bloodless bodies. None of them can be saved like they saved Chrissy.

He doesn’t see the mysterious man again.

It's late June when Steve's life changes forever.

The sun has only set an hour ago and the air is still warm as he walks home from his shift. Robin and Nance's car broke down the day before, and they live on the outskirts of town, so Steve gave them his car until theirs is fixed in a few days. The weather is nice and he doesn't mind walking the three miles to his apartment.

He's almost home, maybe ten minutes away, when he hears someone whistle.

There's a man standing at the entrance to an alley a few feet ahead of him, and since he's the only one around, Steve assumes it must be him whistling at Steve. The guy is hot, there is no way around it, about Steve's height with an athletic build and a haircut that reminds him of the 80's, his blond hair styled into a mullet.

"What's a pretty guy like you doing out here all alone?" The man asks as he gives Steve a slow look. It's supposed to be seductive, Steve thinks, but it just comes off as sleazy. Which is a shame, because the guy has a pretty face, long lashes, full lips, delicate features. Steve's also going through a bit of a dry spell lately, but he's not desperate enough to hook up with a slimy sleazeball like that.

"None of your business, really," he replies, walking a little faster than before. Something doesn't feel right, he thinks, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweet thing. I just wanna talk, I swear." Steve is almost past the guy when their eyes meet and he feels himself freeze. "Why don't you come closer so I can smell you better?"

Even as he thinks, "What the hell is wrong with this guy?" he feels his body turn toward him and his feet propel him forward. He feels himself panic, but it's a distant thing, like an itch under his skin that he can't reach no matter how hard he scratches.

When he's in front of the stranger, so close that their chests almost touch, the man leans in and sniffs Steve's neck like a dog at a slab of meat. He hums deep in his chest and Steve feels the wet touch of his tongue against his skin. It's enough of a shock that he can get his body to react, to fight back, but it's no use. The moment he moves, the man growls menacingly at him.

With his feet still rooted to the ground, Steve feels like he's underwater, his senses dulled and his limbs heavy, weighed down by the tons of water around him. He fights it with all his strength and it takes all he's got to put his hands on the man's chest and push him away.

It's not even close to a hard push, but the man clearly didn't expect Steve to fight back at all, so he stumbles back a bit anyway. Unfortunately for Steve, it only makes him angrier.

"Looks like you got some fight in you after all. Too bad I don't like my food to fight back," he snarls, and before Steve knows what's happening he feels his back slam into the wall behind him, darkness surrounding them on all sides.

He struggles against the hands holding him down, but it's no use, their grip steely and unyielding.

The once pretty face has turned into something twisted and ugly, a grotesque imitation of a human face, and when the thing in front of him opens its mouth, all Steve sees are teeth. Long, sharp teeth.

Steve screams, but not a sound comes out of its mouth.

As those teeth sink into his neck, the face of the man who saved Chrissy's life pops unbidden into his mind. Steve has seen it in his dreams more than once, and it's strangely comforting to think of it now, in what Steve is sure will be his last minutes alive. As if this is all a fucked up dream and Chrissy's mysterious savior will come for him, too.

White hot pain races through his body from where the thing that looked like a man sunk its teeth into him and it's only that pain that makes him believe what he sees next.

One moment he's in mind-numbing agony, almost wishing for death to come and end his suffering, and the next the oppressive weight of that thing is gone, its teeth no longer in Steve. With nothing holding him up, he crumples to the ground, his head dazed and his body shaking like a leaf.

To his right he hears the sounds of a viscous battle. Growls and snarls, flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting brick, the sound of bones snapping. He's too weak to even turn his head, and part of him is glad for that.

The fight seems to go on forever and Steve feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His heart has stopped pounding and his pulse has slowed to about 60 beats per minute, which is good. Not too slow, his system is still going strong. It was cardiac arrest after immense blood loss that had killed the other victims, but so far that doesn't seem to be Steve's fate.

At least not if the wound on his neck that is still slowly bleeding is taken care of soon.

He doesn't dare press his undoubtedly dirty palm against it yet. Hell, he's not even sure if he can lift his hand that far. But something has to be done about the bleeding, sooner rather than later.

As if his savior had heard his thoughts, there is a final, stomach-churning sound of flesh and bone ripping, followed by silence, the fight finally over.

And then there he is, as if his mind had conjured him, the man who saved Chrissy. The man with the big brown doe eyes and the pale skin and the messy curls. There's blood on his face now, and... other things Steve doesn't want to think about.

Steve is safe now, he feels it deep in his soul. He doesn't know how he can know that, how he can trust a complete stranger to keep him safe, but he does. His eyelids flutter shut, the tension finally draining from him completely.

A cool hand on his cheek and a warm, deep voice, tinged with what sounds like fear, pull him back.

"Hey, no, no, no. Steve, you need to stay here with me, okay? Stay with me, sweetheart."

"You know my name," Steve mumbles, fighting the heavy rocks that weigh down his eyelids as he looks at the pretty face in front of him. His eyes dip lower and there's more blood on the man, his clothes torn and his skin exposed. "You're hurt."

"You're very observant, Stevie. Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital. You'll be as good as new in no time." He smiles at Steve and Steve is helpless not to smile back. There's the tease of a dimple forming in his cheek and Steve lifts his hand with Herculean effort to touch it. When the man notices the gesture, the dimple forms fully, deep and alluring. A cold hand catches his before it reaches its target and Steve whines in protest.

The man chuckles fondly. "Here, lemme help you," he says, bringing Steve's hand to his face, the dimple still waiting for Steve to touch it. The skin is soft under his hands and cold too, like it's a winter night and not the end of June.

"I'm gonna pick you up now, Stevie. It's faster than waiting for an ambulance. Just close your eyes and we'll be there before you know it."

Steve feels himself lifted from the ground into strong arms and instinctively turns his head into the man's chest, enjoying the vibration of his soft laughter at the gesture against his cheek.

Then they're moving, and fast. One second he wonders how someone covered in blood and other unspeakable things can smell so good, and the next the lights of the hospital burn bright and painful in his blurry eyes.

"He needs help, now," he hears the man say to someone, his voice firm and demanding. It makes Steve shiver in his arms. And then he's placed on a gurney and his savior leaves with the whisper of cold lips on Steve's forehead.

It's only much later, when he's recovered enough to form coherent thoughts, that Steve realizes two things.

He doesn't even know the name of the man who saved him.

He never heard a heartbeat as his head was pressed against the man's chest.

Steve is released two days later and Robin insists that he stay with her and Nancy for a while. There's really no arguing with his best friend when she's got something on her mind, so he doesn't even try. He's too tired anyway.

His sleep is shit, plagued by nightmares of sharp teeth and blood and bodies being torn to pieces.

He also dreams of the mysterious man, and while these dreams aren't nightmares, they're still confusing, even unsettling, because they leave him feeling hollow. Like he has lost something. Which is ridiculous, the man was never his, he doesn't even know his name.

As he spends the next week at Robin and Nancy's, being pampered and doted on, he has no idea how close he is to learning the name of his savior. That and much more.

After finally convincing his best friend that he can manage on his own, that he needs to go home, that Garfield misses him even with Robin or Nancy stopping by to feed him, it is both daunting and a relief to see Robin's car drive away from where he stands in front of his apartment building.

The nightmares haven't stopped, and he admits that the prospect of being alone in his apartment scares him, but he can't live on his best friend's couch forever. Besides, even there, the nightmares would wake him up shaking and panting, waking Robin and Nancy more than once in the middle of the night. Alone in his apartment, he won't wake anyone with his whimpering and screaming.

Garfield is already waiting for him when he comes through the door, weaving through his legs and meowing at him. Surprised at how much he missed the tabby menace, Steve leans down and takes him in his arms, burying his face in the soft fur.

"Hey baby, sorry for leaving you alone for so long. But Aunt Robbie told me that she and Nancy took good care of you, playing with you and petting you. Probably spoiled you rotten, huh?"

Garfield meows again and pushes his head under Steve's chin, rubbing against him and purring like crazy. Steve smiles into his fur, thinking that he's glad to be home, even if it's still empty except for the purring cat in his arms.

He puts Garfield back down and makes him something to eat before heading to his bathroom to take a long, hot shower and change into something more comfortable. When he pushes open the door and steps inside, he is too stunned by the sight that greets him for any real reaction other than a sharp intake of breath.

On the floor is the man who has taken over most of Steve's dreams and many of his waking thoughts as well.

The man lies still and Steve can see dark stains on his clothes and he just knows it's blood. It could be someone else's, but somehow Steve is sure it's the man's own. Within seconds, he's on his knees next to the unconscious (please just be unconscious) figure, his knees smarting from the way he just fell onto them on the hard and cold tiles.

The man is on his stomach, his face turned to the side, away from Steve, so he moves to turn the man over. He's surprisingly heavy, a dead weight under his hands (no, no, no, not dead, just unconscious, his mind chants), but Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he finally manages to turn the man onto his back.

"Oh God," Steve groans as he can finally assess the damage. There are wounds all over his body, deep gashes on his thighs, his torso, his arms, even his face. "What happened to you?"

"Ten against one. Not...fair," the man replies, his voice barely audible and his eyes still closed. Steve has to lean in to make out the words, but him talking also means the man is still alive, though Steve isn't sure how much longer.

Taking the man's wrist, Steve looks for a pulse to see how far his system has already shut down, but... there is no pulse to be found.

He remembers not hearing a heartbeat when his cheek was pressed against the man's chest, so he presses his ear to where the man's heart is, waiting for the sound of its faint beat.

Nothing.

Steve leans back and searches the man's eyes, half-open now and clearly alive.

"How... you can't be alive. You don't have a pulse, your heart isn't beating." He is stammering, but it's a lot to take in. It shouldn't be possible. It's not like he wants the guy to be dead, but for all intents and purposes, he should be.

Bloodied lips pull back into a faint smile. "Sweetheart, not even the most beautiful sight like you could make my heart beat again. Although it really tries for you."

Despite everything, the way this guy flirts with him while he lies in his own blood brings a crooked smile to Steve's face.

"There, that smile? If it could, my heart would be beating out of my chest right now." Steve can tell the man is trying for levity, but he's fading and fast.

"As charming as you are, you're also bleeding all over my bathroom floor. With no pulse or heartbeat. And I don't even know your friggin' name! So forgive me for asking, but what the fuck?"

"Sorry for the blood on your floor, I tried to patch myself up, but I must have passed out. Embarrassing, really. Didn't think you'd be back so soon. I'd get out of your hair, but... well, you know. I don't think I can move." The words start to slur halfway through, and those beautiful brown eyes keep disappearing behind heavy eyelids. Steve has to do something, quickly, before his savior dies.

"Eddie," the man croaks, his voice barely audible. Steve wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the intent way he stares at him.

"What?"

"My name. Eddie."

"Eddie. Okay." Steve nods his head, the hand still wrapped around Eddie's wrist grabbing his hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital now."

It looks like Eddie tries to shake his head, but gives up halfway, exhausted. "No. They can't help me."

"But they can! Someone needs to sew up your wounds, and you've lost too much blood, you need a blood transfusion and fluids and - why are you laughing?"

"You're right, I need blood, but not the way you think."

The image of sharp teeth flickers behind his eyelids, a gnarled face snarling at him. The feeling of those teeth buried in his neck, white-hot pain shooting through his veins.

"What... Eddie, I don't..."

Eddie's face turns toward him, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath, as if smelling the air.

"Come closer so I can smell you better."

Two different voices growling and snarling, not just one.

Strong arms lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, carrying him nearly three miles. "It's faster than waiting for an ambulance."

"You're not human." Steve whispers. It's not a question.

Eddie answers it anyway. "No, I'm not."

"You're... You're a..." He can't say it, can't even think it.

"A vampire, yes." Eddie says it for him and everything falls into place. The neck wounds, the drained victims, the sharp teeth and the inhuman strength and speed.

"You want my blood." Steve has no idea why he's stating the obvious instead of running as fast as he can, but something tells him he's still safe with Eddie.

"So observant." Eddie chuckles, but it sounds wet and weak. "Yeah. But I won't take it, don't worry, Stevie."

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows.

Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life.

Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently.

Eddie wants his blood.

"Would it help you? My blood, I mean." That's the only thing he's not sure about. The most important thing, at least.

It looks like an inhuman - invampire, Steve thinks - effort, but Eddie manages to shake his head firmly.

"Steve, no."

"Would. It. Help?" Steve insists.

Eddie, the stubborn asshole, presses his lips together and refuses to look at him. That's answer enough for him.

Still holding Eddie's hand in his, he lifts his other hand to Eddie's mouth and presses the inside of his wrist against the closed mouth.

"Come on, Eddie. Drink." Another shake of the man's head only strengthens Steve's resolve. "Eddie, please. You saved my life. Let me do the same."

The stubborn ass continues to refuse, so Steve does the only logical thing. He stands, grabs his razor, and slides the blade across his wrist, just deep enough to draw blood from the otherwise shallow wound.

He presses the wrist back against Eddie's lips and this time he feels the man tremble.

"Please drink. I want you to. Let me help you." Moving his wrist and smearing his blood over Eddie's full lips, Steve pleads again, his voice breaking. "Please, Eddie."

It's the last please that does it, and the next thing Steve feels is the white-hot pain of teeth sinking into his wrist. Still smiling through the pain, he squeezes Eddie's hand. "That's it, you're doing so good. Take what you need."

And Eddie does. He drinks and drinks and drinks until the world goes fuzzy and black spots start dancing in front of Steve's eyes.

"Eddie," Steve slurs before everything goes dark.

When Steve comes to, he's in his bed.

His wrist is wrapped tightly in a pristine-looking white bandage, and he's wearing his pajamas. He has no idea how he got here or what happened, everything is kind of blurry. Steve tries to sit up, but almost immediately the world starts spinning and he groans in protest.

That's when the door to his bedroom opens and his mysterious savior walks into the room with a bowl in his hand.

Eddie, his mind supplies. His name is Eddie and he was dying the last time Steve saw him.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks him, his voice full of worry and he gets a sad smile in return.

"Stevie, I'm the one who should be asking you that." Eddie sits down next to him on the bed but doesn't touch him. He looks tense and Steve wonders why. Though most of what happened is a blur, he remembers holding Eddie's hand and Eddie calling him beautiful.

"I'm fine. A little dizzy, but fine. You were the one bleeding all over my bathroom floor. What happened, how are you even standing, how long was I out?"

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve's cheek in his hand. "You saved my life, Stevie. That's what happened. And you almost got yourself killed, you self-sacrificing idiot. So even though it saved my life, I have to ask you, beg you if I have to, to never do anything so stupid again."

Steve puts his own hand on top of Eddie's hand on his face and looks him in the eye as he tells him, "You saved my life first and risked your own as well. So I guess the pot is calling the kettle black here."

He's rewarded with a dimpled smile. "Fair point. Now that we're even, can you promise me you'll never do anything like this again?"

"I dunno. Can you promise not to try to save me again if I'm in danger?" He knows it's a low blow, but if it helps him get his point across, he's not above playing dirty. Besides, part of him really wants to know. The needy part, the scared part.

"You know the answer to that," Eddie says, brushing his thumb across Steve's cheekbone.

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, and Steve realizes he's so much closer than before. "But I don't care if it keeps you safe."

Steve feels his heart thunder in his chest, his eyes darting from Eddie's to the other man's lips and back again. Licking his own lips, Steve asks, "And why is that?"

Eddie's lips are only a breath away from his own, and he tastes his answer as much as he hears it.

"You know that answer as well."

Before Steve can say anything else, Eddie's cool, smooth lips seal over his and every thought in his mind is forgotten. There's only Eddie.

Later he'll ask about the other vampires. About all the dead people in the emergency room. He'll ask who Eddie is, why he's running around town saving people, and who hurt him so badly.

But all that can wait, at least until Steve is done drinking down the delicious sounds falling from Eddie's mouth.

This is a little birthday gift for my dear friend @yournowheregirl. Alice, I know you love vampires so I tried my best to give you some. Time ran out on me but I still hope you like it 💜

I hope you had the best birthday ever because you deserve nothing but happiness.

Edit: I forgot while posting to say that this is heavily inspired by a wonderful podcast I highly recommend, Not quite dead. Give it a listen folks!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Nurse Steve Harrington #my writing

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