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nakahras · 2 months

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᯽ mr. loverman • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you have a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day and to top it off you can’t even go to the one person you’d want to since he’s out of town. or, at least, you thought so.

warnings • intentional lower case, reader has a nightmare of a roommate, cursing, the use of the pet names doll/baby, chuuya being the gossip he is, fem!reader, nsfw, oral (m -> f), nipple/breast play, some nasty shit is said, masturbation (m), fingering, teasing, slight overstim, idk this is some depraved shit honestly

wc • 4k

a/n • i started this when i was having the worst day ever and just wanted boyfriend chuuya :( i cannot be blamed for the smut idk who wrote that but it wasn’t me

you want to scream — to be more accurate you want to off someone, yourself or someone else, either would suffice. unfortunately you stick to screaming, it would cause you less issues. you lift one of the many pillows on your bed and promptly screech your throat raw into the expensive pillow. your head feels as though it’s going to explode just thinking about how your day has gone.

you thought february 29th was supposed to be a lucky day? an extra day in a leap year meant luck, didn’t it? well in your case it didn’t feel very lucky. not at all, actually. in fact you were sure today was a curse. you woke up late, so, your day was off to a bad start from the beginning. your roommate forgot to pay the electricity bill, again, so you had to take a cold shower and couldn’t even make coffee. you stopped at your favorite coffee shop and not only did they get your order wrong but someone bumped into you on your rush to the train station. there was coffee everywhere. every. where.

thanks to the coffee spill you missed your morning train. which normally wouldn’t be a huge deal, except for the fact that you had an early staff meeting. you try to text your coworker that you were running behind but because your roommate forgot to put the payment in for electricity, your phone didn’t charge and died. you don’t even get your message out. you wanted to cry. luckily the train was early and you made it to work just in time.

you thought maybe you had seen the worst of it. your karma surely couldn’t be that bad, right?

wrong.

you work as a nurse in cardiology. you had not one, not two, but three people code on you. it always came in threes. three emergency services calls. three rounds of performing cpr. three separate incident reports to type out. you were exhausted by the end of the day.

you almost cried again when your favorite coworker offers you a ride home. he was a saint in disguise and you told him so. a literal gift from heaven. you promise him a homemade lunch in return and he waves you off as you climb out of the car. when you get to your apartment you’re pleasantly surprised to see your roommate cleaning. a rare occasion.

the electricity is back on too so you take the opportunity to enjoy a relaxing bath and some wine. you thought, once again, maybe the worst was over.

wrong. again.

when you got out of the bathroom you thought you vaguely heard chatter but chalked it up to a show your roommate was probably watching. you change into a t-shirt, skipping a bra because it’s just you and your roommate at home, and a pair of sleeping shorts that barely cover anything. when you walk out with your headphones on you’re stunned to see 3 strangers in your home.

your roommate looks at you like you’re the crazy one. like she isn’t the one that didn’t warn you about the company. you double check then triple check your phone. nope, not a single text for warning. you awkwardly wave and consider digging a hole and living in it when she introduces one of the strangers as her new boyfriend. in that moment you want to perish, cease from existing altogether.

you don’t even get a chance to grab your food before you’re making a half assed excuse to step away and run back to your room.

you’re now laying on your bed, letting tears of frustration stream down your face. you can’t even call the one person who would make it all better. your boyfriend was away for a business trip. you didn’t want to accidentally interrupt something important. you knew he would drop everything

your boyfriend also has this freaky 6th sense, like he can always tell when you’re thinking of him. so, you’re not surprised when your phone begins to ring and you’re met with his contact photo. you let out a sigh and pick up.

“chuuya…” you breathe out. you sound terrible, you know you do, but you can’t bring yourself to even care to mask it.

you can hear vague rustling in the background before chuuya is speaking. “you don’t sound okay. what’s wrong?”

you start crying again. how does he do that? he always seems to know when you need him most. right now was definitely one of those times. you wish he could actually be there. you missed his warm and safe embrace.

“i’m not. i had a really shitty day and i feel so ridiculous about how much it’s getting to me…” you let out a humorless laugh at how pathetic you feel saying that out loud. you’re throwing a fit over a bad day. who does that?

and all you wanted was for chuuya to be here. but you couldn’t tell him that, if you did he would dismiss everything and come running. then you would feel bad about coming between him and his work. you let out a frustrated sigh.

you can practically hear the frown on chuuya’s face when he speaks. “you wanna tell me ‘bout it? i’ll listen. or is there something else i can do to make you feel better?”

you don’t deserve him. you think to yourself.

moments like this make you really think about how chuuya deserves way more than what you can give him. you go days at a time without talking to him because of school and work. you lock yourself in your room and ignore the world outside just to keep up with your school work. you know it’s unfair to chuuya even if you always do give him a warning. he is always incredibly understanding over it that you almost cry out of guilt. he even brings you meals and hydration packs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

things like this remind you just how selfish you can be when it comes to him. all you want is him. but are you allowed to even feel like that when he’s away for work — a good reason by the way, much better than your own. he never complains when you need space so why would you? to you the answer is simple, you won’t complain.

of course, chuuya sees it differently. he knows that if you didn’t have to cut everyone off to focus on your work you wouldn’t. but your mind doesn’t work like that and he gets it. does he miss you when you have to take a break from reality? absolutely, but he doesn’t complain because he already knows how bad you feel about it.

so instead of saying ‘yes, i need you’ like you want to you let out another sigh. “how much work do you have left today?”

”funny you ask me that, doll. i finished everything early today.” chuuya chuckles when he can practically see the way you perk up.

you still hesitate when you ask, “does that mean you're coming back to yokohama early?”

the port mafia executive smiles widely at just how adorable he finds you. the way you still get so shy to ask him things that should be a given. chuuya adores you and couldn’t imagine spending his now free time with anyone other than you. so, of course he took the opportunity to get back as soon as possible. apparently his timing was impeccable because from the sound of it, you could use a break.

chuuya was already on his way to your apartment. it was supposed to be a surprise, but he figures since he’s already almost there…

“why don’t you pack a bag and come down to find out for yourself, hm?” he lets out another chuckle when your excited squeal finds it’s way onto his side of the phone.

you quickly grab your small duffle and stuff some essentials into it. you have a drawer at chuuyas jam packed with clothing already and a whole second set of your favorite hygiene products so you only need to grab a few things. you pack your laptop and a couple articles of your comfier clothing. you change quickly, stuffing your legs into some jeans and actually putting on a bra underneath your t-shirt.

you grab your phone where chuuya is still on the line. “okay, all packed. should i come down now?”

“yeah, your surprise should be there any minute.” chuuya pulls up to the front of your building as he says those words and can’t help the pleased smile on his face.

you chuckle and shake your head. “my surprise, huh wonder what it could-“ you’re cut off when your roommate calls out your name questioningly in your rush to get out of the door. your eye twitches when you’re reminded of the randoms in your apartment but put on a smile anyways. “it was so nice meeting you guys, sorry i can’t stay but my boyfriend came back into town early so i’m gonna go see him. bye.”

you don’t miss the way your roommate perks up at the mention of chuuya. “oh? chuuya is here? you should invite him up. i would love to see him.

“i’m sure you would. he’s tired though. maybe some other time.” you grit your teeth and smile sweetly. you don’t wait for a response as you practically run out the door and lock it behind you.

you huff and then remember chuuya is on the other side of the phone still, you grimace realizing he heard the whole thing. “sorry…”

“didn’t know i was so tired.” chuuya laughs as you let out a groan.

you catch the elevator before the doors close from someone just getting out and stab at the button to the ground floor. “i’m tired of their shit, therefore, you’re tired too. plus did you really wanna sit through another awkward meal where my roommate dotes on you. god and her new boyfriend was there. can you imagine how uncomfortable that would be? gross. i don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“someone’s actually insane enough to agree to date her? condolences to whoever that guy is.” chuuya’s voice drips with genuine surprise.

you let out a giggle at how scandalized your boyfriend sounds. “you’re telling me she doesn’t pique your interest, sunshine?”

he chuckles and you can practically hear the eye roll from his end of the line. “nah, my girl is the only one for me.”

you’re walking out of the elevator when you stop in your tracks for a moment. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with him, when chuuya calls you his girl it makes you melt. your brain malfunctions a little and it makes you really think about how you truly are all his.

without hesitation you breathe out an “i love you.” before moving forward to the entrance of your building.

“i love you.” it’s instantaneous, his answer.

chuuya never has to think twice about telling you how much he adores you. he is immutably in love with you. there was no doubt in his mind and, even though it took some time for you to believe so, there was no longer a single doubt in your mind either. chuuya had made certain that you would never question it.

you make it to the entrance. the moment you open the door you’re welcomed with the sight of chuuya leaning against his car. his phone is still up to his ear as his grin widens upon seeing you.

you drop your hand and phone from your ear and hang up before rushing over to the ginger. you drop your duffle bag near the car before jumping into the executive's arms. he was anticipating the impact and caught you with ease.

the bicolor eyed man holds you tightly and you bury your face in his neck. his soft hair tickles your face but you couldn’t care less. you take in a deep breath and his scent envelopes you and all the tension your body had been previously holding completely dissipates.

your voice is muffled when you say, “i missed you, so much.”

“i missed you too.”

you both stand there in each other’s arms for a few more seconds before chuuya sets you down. he grabs your bag from the ground and opens the passenger door for you. you thank him and climb in. your boyfriend wastes no time placing your bag on the backseat and slipping into the drivers side.

the ginger takes you to your favorite take out restaurant and you order all of your favorites. when you get back to his penthouse you set up his couch into a lounge bed and get ready to watch one of your favorite movies. while you’re doing that, chuuya is pouring you both a glass of wine.

you’re happily munching on your food and sipping on your wine when chuuya hits you with. “you should move in.”

your head snaps back to look up at him, your brow is furrowed and you give him a confused look. “we haven’t talked about it before. are you being serious right now?”

“completely.” he doesn’t even look at you, his tone so nonchalant and you’re just gaping at him.

you set your drink and food aside and shift off of chuuya. he’s about to complain until you sit yourself on his lap straddling his waist and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you pluck the remote from his hand and turn over your shoulder to pause the movie. you wanted to make sure you had his undivided attention (you always did).

you study him for a moment before responding. “are you sure?”

“yes. i have 2 extra rooms that aren’t being used. we don’t have to share a bedroom yet and you would still have a separate office space. c’mon, doll, let me get you out of that nightmare of an apartment.” chuuya reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

he did that on purpose. you know he did. the way he caresses your face with his always surprisingly soft fingers is unfair. he knows how distracting it is to you.

you try to process what he says but it takes you quite a bit longer than it should have but it doesn’t take you long to make your decision. “…okay.” it comes out whispered.

“okay?” chuuya asks you incredulously like he was actually expecting you to reject his offer.

you nod your head with a blush creeping up your face. “yes, okay. i’ll move in with you.

chuuya can’t help himself and presses his hands across your back to bring you into him. his lips crash into yours and you share a moment of pure bliss. his lips meld perfectly with yours. he tastes of peppermint and grapes. the taste increases as his tongue slips past your lips and tangles with your own. you let out a short gasp at the sudden intrusion but melt into him anyways.

you both stay like that for a few minutes. your hips begin to stutter on their own. your breaths and gasps and quiet moans fill the atmosphere. chuuya’s hands have found their way under your shirt and he’s already playing with the band of your bra. his fingers expertly undo the clasps and hands glide across your now naked back.

your lungs scream at you. you want more of him but you have to oblige your body’s need for air. you part from his lips and rest your forehead on his own, breath mixing together as you both pant for air.

chuuya only gives you a moment, hips still moving into his when he grabs at your hair and gently pulls your head back so he can trail kisses down your neck. it takes all of his self control to not bite your soft skin. per your request, he’s always careful not to leave marks on areas that would be visible in your scrubs. this is the one instance where his need to please you outweighs his need to be possessive.

if chuuya had it his way, he would make everyone aware of just how much you are his. for your sake, though, he reigns in that side of himself. he supposes he’ll just have to show the world you’re his in different ways. like in the form of a key, and in the form of a ring he has stashed away in the far corners of his closet, and maybe even some day in the form of his child.

chuuya’s brought back to reality by the sound of your voice. he hadn’t even realized that your positions had switched. you were panting underneath him, face flushed, and — fuck — you look so gorgeous like this. you were always beautiful. but having you like this, something only he got to see always made something primal in him stir.

you huff and grab ahold of the ginger’s face. his mind was obviously elsewhere. “chuuya. listen to me. what are you doing?”

chuuya’s eyes, which had glazed over, somewhat clear from the fog. he smiles at you as he lowers himself further down your body and lifts your shirt to press kisses to your stomach. you let out a whine, ready to complain about him still not listening.

“relax, baby, i’m helping you relieve some stress.” chuuya draws soothing circles into your skin then, without waiting for your response his hands travel to your pajama pants to untie them.

your hand shoots out to stop him, still panting and slightly dazed. “what about you?”

“don’t worry about me. i can take care of myself while i take care of you.” he says it so unabashedly you can’t bring yourself to question him.

then your head starts spinning. the thought of him touching himself while taking care of you is so incredibly hot it ignites your entire body on fire. there’s no longer a single thought in your head that doesn’t involve chuuya’s mouth, his lips, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. you need it all.

you reach out and card your fingers through the gravity manipulator’s silky hair. he hums at the action and takes it as his sign to continue. his fingers work quickly, undoing the ribbon and hooking around both the elastic of the pants and your panties. his movements are so fluid and fast you can hardly keep up. your bottom half is completely bare but he’s not satisfied there.

his hand slides up underneath your shirt and through the valley of your breasts. he watches intently as your shirt slowly rides up to expose your breasts. his fingers ghost over each mound briefly before they’re sliding down your body again and gripping at your thighs, holding them open.

“so damn pretty.” chuuya hums and his eyes flit up to gaze up at your flushed face. “do me a favor, baby? play with those perfect tits of yours for me, won’t you?”

his voice is sickly sweet and smooth like honey. you’re so enamored by the sound that you almost don’t hear him. his expectant look is what starts up the wheels in your head to turn. his words process and your hands move on their own accord. you start kneading at your chest while maintaining eye contact with his bicolored eyes.

chuuya groans. “god, doll. look at you. playin’ with yourself like that. ‘s sexy as hell- you’re sexy as hell.”

“chuuya…” you let out a whine. your patience thinning by the second as you wiggle your ass for any chance at friction.

your boyfriend lets out a chuckle. “okay, okay. think i’ve made you wait long enough, hm? deserve a reward for all the hell you were put through today.”

chuuya, once again, doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s dipping his head down to get face to face with your already slick cunt. his tongue is quick as he runs it up and down your folds. you feel him sigh in relief against you, like this is the first meal he’s had in days. it might as well be with how much he craved you when he was away.

although, he was focused on you — focused on making this all about you — chuuya knows if he doesn’t make good on his word of relieving himself you’ll never let him hear the end of it. who is he to deny himself the added pleasure when you’re demanding it of him. so, chuuya lets go of one of your thighs to fumble with his belt and free his strained cock from its confines.

you vaguely watch his arm move. your attention wavering as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. your back arches and hands squeeze at your breasts in surprise as you moan out his name.

chuuya smirks, absolutely pleased by the reactions he elicits from you. his hand that freed his cock moves to collect some of the wetness that’s steadily dripping out of you. once he’s satisfied with the amount he lowers his hand and uses your slick as lube to touch himself.

you try to comment on it but your mouth isn’t working right. the only thing that comes out is, “chuuya~ so good. ‘s so- fuck- so good…”

chuuya groans, clearly enjoying this as much as you are. his hips start to stutter as he lets go of your other thigh to gather more of your juices in that hand. his mouth it still making expert work of your clit while his fingers are closing in on your entrance. he teases you a little, circling the hole a few times before slowly pushing in two of his lithe fingers.

your head is thrown back as a slew of cursed moans falls from your lips. this time chuuya lets out a moan of his own when he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers already. his hand being used on himself starts pumping faster, his cheeks hollowing more frequently and fingers start sliding in and out of you at an alarming rate.

he’s close, you realize. he’s close and wants you to cum before him. you aid him in his endeavor by rolling your nipples between your fingers then squeezing slightly to pinch them. the added sensation makes your whole body twitch.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck. chuuya, gonna cum~ ‘s too much. gonna-“ a euphoric wave crashes over you and you let out an embarrassing squeal like moan as your vision spots and ears rings.

chuuya’s slurps while lapping up at your orgasm are insanely lewd and the noise alone is enough to send him crashing as well. what really does him in is the sight before him. your eyes rolling back into your head and mouth hanging open. he moans deeply, from his chest, and spills into his hand. he pumps himself a few more times until he’s twitching from the overstimulation.

chuuya laps up every last drop your cunt has to offer while you come down from that amazing high and catch your breath. when he’s happy with his clean up he rests his cheek on your thigh. you prop yourself up to look at him. he looks so angelic, hair slightly tousled from your fingers running through it earlier, face glistening from your juices and face flushed. chuuya smiles at you then turns his head to leave sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

you let your head hang back before groaning. he was going to be the death of you. you knew he wasn’t finished with you by a long shot.

“we have plenty of time to do this when i move in.” you whine.

chuuya lets out an elated laugh. “so, when are we moving you in? tomorrow?”

you let out a genuinely amused laugh, shaking your head at his eagerness.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #chuuya x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs x fem!reader #bsd chuuya #᯽. banners/dividers made by @/cafekitsune #᯽. éli originals

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mitsies · 4 months

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❊ a night to remember - dazai osamu . . you're a barista in the middle of a turf war. dazai is assigned to babysit.

the café you work at is nowhere near 'fantastic,' like the critics acclaim.

it's situated on a busy street corner, right next to an even busier airport. this draws an unfortunately large amount of new customers. you cringe thinking about the poor foreigners, unable or unwilling to purchase overpriced airport cuisine, who find refuge (and a meal) at your workplace. it must be an awful first experience in the country, you think.

despite the wealth your employers must've accumulated from an ever-rotating customer base, you don't think a single dime has ever gone towards improving the place. the outside seems nice enough, but the appliances are hardly functional. paint peels off the walls in the back, and the windows have long since been sealed shut. it gets way too hot in the summer. tables are rickety and every time someone takes a seat, you fear for their life. a small hole in the wall exists right by the entrance to the back, and sometimes when you go to close shop you hear skittering (which you pray is a mouse and not a ghost.) the good part about this, though, is that a little cat frequents your block around nighttime. she's the only reason you enjoy working at the joint, really, especially since it's open so unusually late, meaning you have to work stupid hours. who needs coffee and sandwiches at 10 at night?

you wonder how your shoddy little place of work has passed a single health inspection. you also wonder how you're still alive, because you're pretty sure that there is black mold growing in the storeroom. that, and the fact that you're all too often worked to the bone. your boss never does much, and your coworkers, though lovely people, take way too many sick days to be normal. you think the black mold may have gotten them. either that or they're lazy and love to see you suffer. more often than not, you're the only one working the busy café all day. that place would be a mess if it weren't for you, you like to believe.

it's an unusually slow night when the cat comes by to visit. she's a little thing, with a fluffy grey body and tiny white paws. her nose is a black button framed by white fur and long whiskers. you call her misty, like the character from pokémon.

you haven't gotten a customer in a while. you suspect it's because of the bad weather; your usual clientele of travelers are all seeking shelter within the airport, not daring to venture out quite yet. misty herself is dripping water all over the entrance of the café, but she's too cute for you to care. you walk out from behind the counter to pet her with the back of your hand. your skin comes away damp and covered in a thin layer of cat fur, which is a little gross but you've seen worse while working here. she meows. from your place by the door, you can see outside to the rain-soaked sidewalk. hard droplets of water pelt down like hail, staining the world a shade darker. you grimace, because there's no way you can walk home in this downpour.

"what do i do now, misty?" you stoop down to stroke the cat a little more. she purrs a little, and her long fur continues to stick to your hand in its dampness. nasty.

standing back up, you make your way to the back of the shop to rinse your hands in the sink. you aren't expecting anyone to come in at this point, not when it's this late, and not in this weather. you are proven very wrong when you hear the door creak open, and misty's meow before she scampers away to a far corner of the store.

plastering your best customer service smile on your face, you look up and move to the counter to greet the new arrival. you expect them to be a particularly brave traveler, and you imagine the mess of rainwater you'd later have to mop up off the floor. you are, however, pleasantly surprised by the sight of one of your favourite regulars. "oda!"

he's usually not in this late. but he gives you a small kind of smile as he closes the umbrella he holds and stores it in the designated area, bless him. you, to this day, wonder why he chooses to come to this raggedy little shop enough to be considered a regular. the coffee isn't that good, and the pastries are always a little dry, in your opinion. plus, it's just gross. maybe you're just a hypochondriac, though, because oda seems like a smart and sensible man who would not come to a café that would give him diseases. probably. you hope.

he's a kind, quiet person. you don't know much about him, if anything at all. he's got your name memorised and always greets you, and he tips well, and he asks about your day sometimes. you think he's sweet. maybe not smart, actually, if he keeps coming back. or maybe he's a health advisor coming to collect evidence to shut the place down— oh, you could only hope this is true.

misty, upon realising it's just oda, walks her little feet back over towards the entrance. the tall man bends over to pet the little cat, and for the first time, you catch sight of another person behind him. a boy. he's tall, or at least taller than you. but he doesn't look like much. a set of spindly limbs, bandages covering one eye, while the other is sunken and tired. a coat hangs loosely from his shoulders. you wonder if he's been eating enough. in a flash, though, his eyes connect with yours. it's brief, and awkward, and he stares straight into you like he can see through your skull into your thoughts. a shiver runs down your spine. he might look your age but there is something about him that tells you he has been around far too long, and seen enough for lifetimes. oda stands back up, cutting your view of the boy off. you readjust, trying to shake off the uncanny veil that's just descended on your little store. "your usual, oda?"

he smiles again. "please. thank you."

you dare look at the boy again. "and anything for you, sir?"

his gaze flickers back towards you. it's less heavy than before, but still, a force resides behind it. he hums and smiles. it seems hollow. you try to pay it no mind. "nope."

you nod briskly and go about preparing oda's drink. in your periphery, you watch the pair settle down by a table on the side wall of the shop, right against a big window. oda's back is facing you and you can feel his companion's eyes following your moves every so often. you try your best to ignore it, the way his eyes carry a pressure that drills into your skull.

it's 8:07 at night when oda gets a call. you aren't eavesdropping, but you don't miss the furrow of his brows and the vacancy that passes through his eyes. he'd probably leave soon. you purse your lips; might as well close once these two leave. they came in half an hour ago, and not a single soul had even passed out the door since.

sure enough, oda stands. he fishes around in his wallet for a crisp bill— another reason why he was your favourite regular, his tips never fell short— and gives you a polite, tight-lipped smile. the mystery boy follows suit. he doesn't spare you a glance, though, not until oda halts at the door as if something's just occurred to him. he turns back to the counter and calls your name. you look up from where you were wiping down some ancient appliances. "everything okay?"

he nods, and his head involuntarily falls to the side inquisitively. "how are you getting home tonight?"

you grimace. "i'm walking."

oda and the mystery boy exchange a look. you presume it's the heavy rain they're concerned about, so you pipe back in: "it's okay, though! i have a spare coat in the back. i think."

the boy gives you another look. like you're an idiot, like he knows something you don't. you'd wonder what was going on, but that was likely above your pay grade.

oda turns back to his companion. you hear them exchange words quietly, quiet enough to be drowned out by the rain still pouring outside. they are discussing far too intensely for it to be just about the rain. at the end of the spirited conversation, oda looks resolved, and the boy looks.. upset? disgruntled? he looks more his age, that's for sure. younger, even, like a petulant child. you would laugh if you weren't so on edge.

something is off. it's like the air in the shop has suddenly grown heavier by a hundred tons. it's suffocating. you are more excited than usual to close early and go home once these two finally make their exit. but then the boy sits back down. you fight the frown growing on your face.

oda is still standing. he takes the umbrella by the door and taps it against the entrance matt. clear flecks of rainwater fall down into the fabric like a small scale version of the downpour outside. he turns back to the boy, and then swivels to face you with a small, polite smile. "thank you for the drink. i hope you don't mind that my friend dazai is staying here for a while to avoid the rain."

you want to die. staying at your place of work for the next few hours until the official closing did not seem like an ideal night. mentally you mourn the night you planned to have when you got home early; goodbye to your cozy blanket, and warm bed, and movie and popcorn. but making coffee isn't that hard and you're basically paid to be nice and stay up late, so you just smile back and say, "no problem! we close at 10, and it'll probably have calmed down by then. probably."

oda nods and walks back out the door. misty meows at his heels, until he's out from under the overhang and gone from sight. faintly, you can see his silhouette blue-lit beneath streetlights, only if you squint. after a few beats, even the shadow of the man is gone.

you slump back down onto the counter, and then slide back up because you'd just cleaned it and now you'd have to do it again. a resigned sigh escapes past your lips, and you look up to see that the boy is looking at you. what was his name again? dazai? you somehow manage a nice-enough smile, looking back into his hollow eyes. he remains expressionless; it unnerves you, like a glass of cold water down your back. awkwardly, you begin, "do you... want anything to drink now? or eat? i'm going to have to throw all these out soon."

his heavy stare leaves you for only a second as you gesture vaguely to the display case of pastries. he looks like he considers it for a second before he smiles and says, "a chocolate croissant seems good!"

it's uncanny, the way the hollows of his eyes misalign with the tone of his voice. he sounds happy. he sounds young. but the way his joy is displayed is strange. it's a mirror. like he's only watched other people be kind and learned to imitate. as if he's pretending to be human. you can't look into his eyes anymore. instead, you turn to warm up the pastry without words.

when you move to bring the pastry to his table, you find dazai surveying the glass door, as if he is mesmerised by the rain still falling in heavy torrents. your plan is, originally, to slide the treat in front of him, smile and say nothing, and speedwalk away back to the counter and pretend to be busy cleaning until the stranger either a), leaves, or b), the rain stops and you can get out of here. however, it seems that misty has other plans. in a motion that you're sure she intends to be a show of affection and not a ploy to humiliate you, she runs in front of your legs and headbutts your ankle, causing you to trip over. you land with a less-than-gracious huff, and barely manage to pull yourself up from your stomach to your knees before you feel dazai's eyes back on you.

there is a small smile on his face, that creases his visible eye. you frown ruefully, and move to rise and apologize for the disruption. but to your surprise, he stands to help you up. his extended hand is slim. he has thin fingers, like wire, and a wrist wrapped in fresh, white bandages that show through his white button-down. his hands are just as cold as they look.

"graceful," he comments as he pulls you up. you purse your lips, choosing to ignore his comment.

"i'm sorry. i'll remake your food."

he considers you for a moment, looking you up and down. suddenly, you feel very seen. in a strange, unfamiliar way. you hope your apron isn't askew or messy. you hope you don't look as frazzled as you feel. why do you hope that?

"no worries!" and thank god he says that, because you truly are not in the mood to be doing much of anything. but you ask the obligatory, 'are you sure?' to which he just says, 'i'm sure,' so the whole conversation was redundant, really. shifting back to behind the counter, you begin to clean out the display case. and you're really finding yourself in a cleaning flow until dazai's voice breaks through your haze. he says your name. you're confused as to how he knows your name, until you realise you wear a nametag, and then you're just a little embarrassed as you reply, "yes?"

"does oda come here often?"

you glance up at him while wiping a shelf with a rag. he's not looking at you, rather staring back out into the rain. misty is approaching his table. she's usually shy; you wonder if she will let him pet her.

"often enough. he's usually here once or twice a week. never usually this late, though."

at your response, you see out of the corner of your eye as dazai shifts to face you, transfixed on the methodical motions of your hands cleansing the mess of the counter. he hums, "really?"

"yeah. he's one of my favourite regulars." and you almost leave it at that but your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask, "what are you both doing out here at this time, anyways?"

dazai considers you. then he turns back away with a ghost of a smile. "business calls."

you can't help the look that crosses your face. what a tasteless answer. so dramatic. and then, something clicks. you blink. your area was under port mafia protection and recently, a rival group has been posing threats to it. it's never affected you, always in the western district of your area, so you've never really paid it much mind. you blink. so, this boy was affiliated with those groups. either the mafia or the rebels, but you're inclined to believe that it's the former because of his crypticness and the sheer amount of black he wears. (you're honestly a little surprised you didn't clock this sooner. no normal people dress like that.) your neurons are firing at a rapid pace, making connections. so... was oda in the port mafia too? your eye twitches. you have been serving a mafioso black coffee and almond muffins for months without knowing.

when you finally look back at dazai, he's watching you again. there's something like curiosity painting his expression, more than you've seen from the boy since he walked in. you're maybe perhaps a little shellshocked so all you can manage to ask is, "am i in trouble?"

he laughs an echoey, hollow laugh. you're embarrassed but also a little indignant because you think you have a right to know, maybe. "you haven't done anything. as long as i'm here you'll be fine."

your eye twitches again.

"so i am in trouble, then."

dazai frowns. "you have such little faith."

for a split-second you forget that he is a member of the most dangerous organization in all of yokohama and not just a boy your age, as you retort, "it's hard to have trust when the person left in charge of my safety looks like he weighs the same as my cat."

misty meows as if she understands you. dazai blinks. you blink back, before adding a tasteful, albeit a little uncomfortable, "with all due respect. sir."

and he smiles. it's a familiar one. faint smile lines appear, his left cheek creases deeply enough to dimple. it's a real, earnest smile. he looks young and alive like the boys at your school. he's cute, almost. you can't help but smile back, just a little. suddenly, you're thinking about his hand again, and how it felt in yours. you turn away with a light exhale and busy yourself with wiping down cases again.

"oda told me that he 'appreciated your sardonicism,'" dazai muses, "and i didn't know what he meant until now."

you turn the sink on and begin to sponge down various mugs. "thank you, i think."

"you're welcome."

menial conversation follows. dazai asks about your work, and you're glad he chose this topic, because really, you could complain about this establishment for hours if someone gave you the opportunity. he listens intently as you talk about your coworkers and manager, the abysmal pay, and the ghastly sanitary standards of the place. to this topic, dazai glances around and questions you.

"maybe you're a hypochondriac," he says, "it looks clean enough to me."

you stare at him, hands still in the sink, covered in suds. you blink. was he blind?

you're about to respond, when the door opens. you glance at the clock; 9:48. twelve minutes before closing. you're about to try and muster up the last of your energy to be the best barista you can be before dazai speaks first. "oda. you're back early."

thank god it's oda. you look up to see misty run to him purring, as he puts his umbrella down. "we finished up the..." he glances carefully up to you, "business early."

dazai waves a hand dismissively. "they know."

oda raises his eyebrows and looks at you. "you do?"

"i do," you affirm, "you keep less-than-subtle company."

"hey!"

you and oda both ignore dazai. the taller man addresses you instead, "then you should know that it's safe to go out for tonight. and the rain is stopping, too."

you exhale. it'd been easy to ignore how stressed you were about the 'dangerous situation' that you'd been told nothing about happening right outside your place of work. and then, it clicks; dazai was distracting you from all that on purpose with his torrent of questions. you look back at him. he simply smiles.

oda speaks again. "i'll be back tomorrow morning to check on things. get home safe."

turning to dazai, he states, "the car is waiting outside. take the umbrella."

his departure leaves three people in the shop, like it's been for the past hour; you, dazai, and misty the cat. so, two people, you guess. and you can't help the twinge of sorrow that makes itself known inside your chest at the fact that this may be the first and last night that you see him. the only thing you can say is, "it was nice to meet you, dazai."

he stands. misty makes a cat noise. he meets your eyes and there is something less than hollowness there. his smile seems more real than before.

"you'll see me again," he almost promises, as if he could read your mind.

"good," is all you have time to reply, before he is out the door. you bite the inside of your cheek to restrain the grin that is breaking out from across your face, "good."

flowers chosen: pink camellia & forget-me-not . . longing for you & don't forget me

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#i have not touched bsd in so long i am sorry ..#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #reader insert #mitsies 5k #insp by “a night to remember” by laufey & bea <3 #this was gonna be longer and more dramatic but i had to cut it off bc too long!

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frostfairysteve · 1 year

Text

Steve spends the first week after graduation trying to find a job and himself. He goes in and out of stores, leaving applications and looking through their shelves.

His parents are home; his dad is just waiting for an opportunity to kick him out or force him into an office job depending on if he's in a good mood or not when Steve inevitably gives up.

Of course, Steve has no plans on proving his dad right by giving up. His parents didn't even have the decency to attend his graduation; they only came home to confirm his college plans, hoping for something to brag about. Steve can't count how many times he's been called a disappointment in the last week.

He comes home with a job at Scoops Ahoy and a tarot deck. His parents leave the same way they came; without telling him.

The second week after graduation is interesting. Steve spends the days working for minimal wage with a coworker that makes fun of him and the evenings trying to learn tarot.

After the first time that he successfully does a reading for himself, he starts remembering the herbal remedies his mum would use when he was young and often got sick. The more he uses the tarot deck, the more he thinks about her herb garden and books, the more aware he is of his failing hearing and vision on the left side.

The latter has more to do with his job than the tarot deck, but it does make him wonder if there's anything he can do with plants. He can't go to the hospital without risking breaking the terms of two NDAs.

So Steve finds the books his mum used and starts reading them, writing down notes for what plants would be good to start growing, for what remedies actually seem helpful. What makes for helpful teas or incense or oils, what makes for good charms to carry around.

He remembers best through repetition so he makes rituals of the most useful things; it also helps getting him to use it. Much like how his self-care routines are rituals in a way.

Steve knows people are starting to whisper about him, knows that it's strange that he's carrying around plants and a tarot deck, that he takes moments out of his day to remember to breathe and recite self affirmations like they were spells. His hair is growing longer and wilder, he tilts his head to see and hear better, he's no longer trying to repress hundreds of small things just to fit in. He's letting himself be strange, letting himself use movement to process his emotions and repeat sounds because it feels good. He stops trying to force words out when there feels like a disconnect between his brain and mouth.

It's a month after graduation when he's taking the trash out at the end of his shift and hears something behind the dumpster. There's a small kitten that seems to be screaming with how loud the meows are.

Steve has never been allowed a pet, but he loves petting Tews when he's over at Dustin's, and it would help him feel less lonely. So he takes the kitten home.

Once he has given the poor thing a bath, the kitten turns out to be completely white, and very skinny. Steve has no idea how old it is, doesn't know what he should feed it, and it's too late to take it to a vet.

He's thinking about possible names as he's going through the fridge for the milk; the only cat names he knows are Mews and Tews. He's trying to think if it has to end with -ews when his eyes land on the slices of honeydew that his mum had left behind.

Steve feels quite proud of himself for naming the cat Honeydew; it follows the one rule for cat names that he knows of, and he can call it Honey for short, which is very cute.

Dustin laughs at him when Steve first tells him about the cat, and takes to calling Honeydew for Dewey, as in the Dewey Decimal System. Steve doesn't bother correcting it; he's pretty sure Honey is deaf. It explains the loud meowing and how the cat never seem to react to noise.

He still wants to be able to communicate with his new cat, and maybe it would be good for him too, so Steve borrows any books on ASL he can find. And he makes sure that Honeydew knows that the sign for Honey is its name.

When Steve does take Honeydew to a vet, he gets it confirmed that the kitten is male, around five weeks old, and completely deaf.

Honey's eyes turn green with time (kittens all have blue eyes the first six weeks).

Steve carries Honey around on his shoulders a lot.

thanks @metalmunch for the name!

#steve harrington #autistic steve harrington #witch steve collection #i don't know how accurate the timeline is #i'll correct it in the next post if needed #honeydew the familiar

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delayed-affection · 1 year

Note

can you write something about the reader having a bad and trevor or jack making them feel better

Here with me

Navigation Oneshots

Trevor Zegras x reader

A/n: I went with Trevor, I hope you enjoy!🤍

Warnings: like two bad words, pet name (baby, babe)

Word count: 2.1k

Waking up today you thought it would be a good. You were able to FaceTime Trevor before he left for practice, got to work on time, and they supplied you guys with breakfast.

Then the day started to go down, someone spilt their coffee on you and tried to blame you for it. With no change of clothes and no time to go home until lunch you walked around wet and smelling of coffee.

Then when you were on lunch you got a flat tire, so you had to pull over on the side of the road to change it. Dirtying your clothes even more and having random people drive up to asking you if you were okay was quite embarrassing.

You barely made it home and back to work on time. Hoping that the day will pick up and nothing else happens.

Only for the printer to jam up on you before your meeting, you’re friend texting you canceling your plans for tonight, your know it all coworker trying to tell you that you’re doing your job wrong, and it started to pouring rain on your way out.

So you once again you are in wet clothes but more upset than you were before. The only good thing left about today is that you don’t have any classes or homework to worry about.

When you got home you decided to take a quick shower, texting Trevor asking him if it’s okay that you come over.

Getting out you toss on some some of his clothes that he left over. You grab your phone to see that he gave you the go ahead to come over.

You knock on his front door for what feels like the millionth time, neither him or Jamie have come to the door. You jiggle the door knob to find out that the door is locked.

You groan letting your head hit the door, of course this would happen.

You call his phone to no avail, so you try Jamie.

He picks up, “Hello?”

“Jamie, hey.” You reply, “Are you and Trevor not home?”

“I’m not.” He states, “But Trevor is… or I thought he was.”

You sigh, “He’s not answering the door or his phone.”

You can hear him stifle a laugh, “So, you’re locked out?”

You run a hand through your hair, “Yeah.”

“Okay, so, by the door there’s a rock, if you flip it over the bottom should slide off and the key should be inside.” He informs

You pick up the rock, “You’re a lifesaver, dryer sheet.”

He chuckles, “Yeah whatever, dipshit.”

You open the door, “Okay I’m in, thank you.”

“No problem.” He says, “And keep the key, I’ll make another one.”

“For real?” You ask

“Yeah, now go make sure Trevor’s not dead.” He tells you, “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Jamie.” You say hanging up the phone.

You close the door behind you and make your way to Trevor’s room. As you get closer you can hear Taylor swift playing along with the faint sound of water and him singing along.

Opening his bedroom door you take off your shoes and lay on his bed, listening to him sing ‘Our Song’.

Even though he’s completely off key it brings a smile to your face. Pulling out your phone you record him singing the rest of the song, it could come in handy for another bad day or even a birthday post.

When he finished the song you decided to mindlessly scrolling through tiktok. You did that for fifteen minutes before you finally hear the water turn off and the music switch from Taylor to Mac Miller.

The bathroom door swings open and out walks Trevor, dripping wet with a towel around his waist.

He jumps at the sight of you on his bed, not expecting you to be there, “Jesus, Baby, when did you get here?”

“I don’t know, like, fifteen? Twenty? Minutes ago.” You answer struggling to keep your eyes on his.

He turns off the music, “So, you- you heard all of that?”

“Yeah, it almost felt like I was at one of her concerts.” You tease

He turns away from you, clearly embarrassed, and goes to grab some clothes.

He goes back to the bathroom with his clothes in hand, “So, how was your day?”

You groan, “ugh, it sucked.”

He quickly comes back out in joggers and a tshirt, “Awe baby I’m sorry.”

He leans over the bed places a soft kiss on your forehead, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, “No, not really.”

He hums in response, “Here, scoot over.”

You move over allowing him to lay down next to you, you can feel the warmth from the shower radiate off of him.

He pulls you over to him and starts to rub your back, “Well if it makes you feel better, I’m glad you’re here, I missed you.”

“If you missed me why’d you lock the front door?” You ask, “Are you afraid of the boogie man or something?”

He shakes his head and smiles, “What? No! I’d lay out the boogie man and you know it.”

You let out a amused laugh, “Oh, I’m sure you would.”

“Have you seen my guns?” He asks flexing his arm, “These things are killers.”

“Totally…” You say in an unconvinced tone.

He acts offended, bringing his hand to his chest, “Are you doubting me? Do you not believe me?”

“I mean it’s the boogie man.” You reply

He rolls his eyes and huffs, “I’m your boyfriend you’re supposed to believe in me.”

You apologize, “Oh, sorry. What I meant to say is that you could take down anyone. The boogie man wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

He lets a dry chuckle, “Much better, babe.”

He strokes the side of your face, “Hey, did you eat today?”

“Yeah, did you?” You question

“Mhm.” He answers, “Did you drink any water?”

You let out a dragged, “Yes.”

He looks at you and you watch as his eyes make their way down your body.

He smiles and his eyes meet yours, “You’re wearing my clothes.”

You can feel your face getting hot, “yeah.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Because I felt shitty and me wearing them made me feel better.” You quickly confess

“Oh, baby.” He coos sitting up against the headboard, “Do you still feel that way?”

You move to sit across from him and shrug, “Kind of but you’ve helped a lot.”

He turns his head in confusion, “How? I’ve been talking nonsense since you got here.”

You shrug, “You always talk nonsense.”

“Okay, is it hate on your boyfriend day? First you tell me I can’t defend myself and now you’re telling my I talk nonsense.” He complains

You put your hands up in surrender, “You said it first, I was just agreeing.”

“Well maybe should disagree with me.” He agrues

“But I did and you didn’t like it.” You remind letting yourself fall back onto the bed.

He moves forward to lean over you, his face ever so close to yours.

“You know what I’m going to stop this because I can see that I’m not going to win.” He tells you

He gives you a quick peck to show that he accepts the loss on this one.

You hum in response.

“But you know what I will beat you at?”

“Knowing every word to all to well?” You answer

“Yes but no.” He says getting off the bed, “I’m willing to bet you that I could beat you in Mario Kart.”

“And if you lose?” You question following him out of the room.

“Oh, I’m not losing.” He assures leading you into the living room.

You give him an amused look, “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“Because I am.” He states turning on the switch and tv, “I’m going to hand deliver you an L.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared.” You mock sitting on the couch.

He sits next you and hands you a remote, “You should be, I’m a killer in baby park.”

You takes the remote, a small smile playing on your lips.

"We'll see about that." You challenge, “What do you want if you win?”

He taps his chin acting like he’s thinking of something.

“You’re buying me ice cream.” He states, “And not no McDonald’s McFlurry, I want some fancy shit.”

“What?” You ask, “What’s fancy ice cream?”

“It’s not a McFlurry.” He answers

He acts like the things he says is just common knowledge to everyone else. Like yes a McFlurry isn’t fancy but what would be considered fancy ice cream?

You hold your hand out to him, “Okay, then I want the same thing if I win.”

He takes your hand and shakes it, “Bet. First one to win eight races wins.”

Your just started your second lap on Excitebike Arena when you notice Trevor's character zoom by you. But he's going the wrong way.

"Umm... are you aware you're going the wrong way?" You question glancing at his side of the screen.

"You're going the wrong way." He childishly argues finally turning his character around.

He scoots closer to you on the couch, "Did you see that?"

You scrunch your brows together, "What?"

His hand flies over your eyes as he attempts to catch up to you. You move away from and swat away his hand.

"Not cool, bro." You say knowing he doesn't like it when you call him that.

"I'll show what's not cool, bro." he threatens

you're not to far from starting your third lap when he snatches your controller tossing it aside.

“Oh, so we’re cheating?”

The more games played the more competitive you two got. It was every man for himself and the two of you were looking for a win.

You were the first to eight wins, smiling brightly as Trevor whines to go again.

You guys were having fun and Trevor would do anything to keep that smile on face.

The two of you now sit in some random parking lot in Sherman oaks finishing your ice cream from dolly llamas. After you evidently beat in him in Mario kart 16 to 14.

“I know you let me win.” You state changing the music.

He shrugs you off, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Trevor, you drove the last three races backwards.”

He takes his spoon and swipes some of your ice cream and says, “No I didn’t.”

You give him a look that tells him to be serious.

“Well let’s say… you looked like you needed some ice cream.”

“I would’ve gotten some if I lost.” You reply

He spares you glance but looks back out the window, “Yeah, but you would’ve had to pay and I wasn’t going to let you.”

You lower the music, “So why make the bet?”

He gives you a sympathetic look, “If I’m being honest, you looked like you were done with the world and I wanted to help.”

You nod but don't say anything.

He sets down his cup and grabs your hand.

"Look you said you had a bad day and I had no clue on what to do." He admits, "And whenever I was having a bad day my mom would take me to go get ice cream."

"And Mario kart was something I looked forward to doing with Griffin and Ava after school or after a game." He adds, "So I did what I thought would help."

You turn in your seat to face him, interlocking your fingers with his.

“It did help, baby.” You assure, “I felt like hell before I got to see you.”

"Are you you sure because we could always do something else." He replies, “It’s only six o’clock.”

You shake your head, "No, just being with you is enough. Hell just putting on your clothes made me feel better.”

He squeezes your hand gently, before letting it go. Moving his hand up to your cheek.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, feeling safe and loved.

"Thank you." You whisper

He leans in kissing you gently.

Pulling back he looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

A goofy smile makes its way on to his face, “I know the best way to end today.”

“And what’s that?” You ask

“A good bowl of cereal and you’re favorite show.” He says in a matter of factly tone.

You shake your head with a laugh, “You really know how to woo a person, Trev.”

He starts up the car, “You can’t tell me some Cookie Crisp wouldn’t hit the spot.”

You put your seatbelt back on and reply, “I don’t know about Cookie Crisp but sure.”

“And you’re back to being a hater.” He sighs making you chuckle.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagines #trevor zegras one shot #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras imagine #nhl imagine #nhl one shot

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stonertora · 1 year

Text

Sub Kenma x Demon Fem. Dom reader ❤️

Part 1

MINORS DNI, HEAVY NSFW

Warnings: drug use or abuse idk (reader smoking weed) , breath play, fingering, size kink, rough sex, blood, spanking, marking, biting, slapping, pet play, bondage, humiliation, orgasm control, cursing, heavy language, overstimulation, age gap (age isn’t mentioned), choking, hair pulling, squirting, anal, spit, pegging, mommy kink

So I’ll just make something clear right ahead or ppl get confused, the reader definitely has some demonic abilities and features like horns, wings and a tail, I’ll just say that Reader herself can choose who sees the features or not, so people might not see them. I’ll also write it in readers pov.

After I ended my 9 hour shift, I just needed something to drink, an energy drink would do it’s job tho, so I’ll buy two for my boyfriend too. after I say goodbye to my coworkers, I quickly left.

my legs were hurting. standing all day really wasn’t made for me, I could just fly all day, but of course I can’t do that, what would people think of me, seeing some cashier randomly floating in the air? they’d probably freak out and call the police, so yeah, I can’t do that here.

It’s about 8 p.m. so now I’m on my way to the nekoma highschool, getting my boyfriend from his volleyball training. I could hear his friends already yelling and laughing, nothing new though they’re always fucking around with each other. I bet Yaku’s beating Levi’s ass again.

Only thinking about it got me crackling. I mean he shouldn’t mention Yaku’s height all the time, so it’s his fault. As I walked closer to the boys, I looked for Kuuro cause where Kuuro is, Kenma can’t be far away.

,,Sup bitches. Where’s Kenma at?’’

I yelled out of no where, suddenly the pain in my legs all gone, and adrenaline building up in my body, that’s one thing I love about his friends, they never fail to light the mood. Most of them nearly got a heart attack, which brought a wide grin to my face.

,,Damn y/n, you could’ve warned us at least, Levi almost shat his pants. Anyways your boyfriends on the toilet right now.”

Kuuro told me, almost loosing it himself thinking about Levi’s scream, but couldn’t suppress a slight grin on his face. So I sat down on the bench next to the boys, listening to how their training went, how Levi kept on fucking up the easiest stuff, or how they once again tried to stop Yaku from beating his ass, which I know had Kenma’s hair growing grey soon.

,,Damn Levi, you really should keep up with the training, if you keep fucking up Yaku’s really about to kill your tall ass.”

I told him, while opening my energy drink.

,,But it’s not that easy y/n-Chan, I just seem to really be too stupid for all this. And stop calling me ‘tall ass’, or I might call you minor dater, old hag or something like that.”

he said already getting himself ready to run for his live.

,,The fuck you said you lil bitch?”

I yelled at him, ready to rip his limbs one by one. I was ready to yeet his stork ass, but couldn’t do it. He got hit pretty hard in the face by some basketball.

,,OWWWW! That FUCKIN’ hurt man!!”

He yelled while blood ran down his nose.

,,Then shut your reckless fucking mouth, bitch.”

Everyone now looking shocked over to the direction the basketball came from. An angry Kenma walking towards us. Okay he was pissed, even more than me myself, you can see it, even a blind person could see it. The fact he extra got himself a basketball instead of a volleyball proves it even more.

I walked over to Levi, and stared straight into his eyes while he sat in the ground, Tora holding a paper wipe on his nose.

,,You can be happy it was Kenma who threw the ball, if it was me and I’ve had be half as mad as Kenma you’d be headless by now. So watch your language.”

I told him, I know he’s probably shitting his pants, but he must hear it.

,,I-I’m sorry, y/n-Chan, Kenma-San, won’t do it again I promise.”

I kneeled down of his level of height and grinned slightly.

,,You’re good, lev. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t kill you. take my energy, it’ll help with the pain, yeah? Keep the cold can on your nose it’ll help it to stop bleeding. “

I stood back up walking over to Kenma handing him the other energy I bought.

,,Take it. You need to calm down. You’re right about what you said but you really didn’t needed to throw a whole ass basketball in his face. Poor man’s probably got a broken nose by now.”

I told him still grinning, I know Lev deserved it, and the scene replaying in my head almost got me loosing it.

,,Whatever…”

Kenma said, taking the energy drink out of my hand.

,,What you say?”

I asked him, voice stern.

,,Sorry, I meant thanks, Babe. He just pissed me off.”

he told me.

,, Yeah, I understand, let’s go home. Your live stream should start in about an hour.”

we walked over to the others.

,,We’re leaving now, his livestream’a gonna start in a hour. See y’all tomorrow!”

After we said goodby to everyone, we’ll except to lev for Kenma, we walked home, enjoying the weather, it’s so hot outside like we’re almost melting. We went inside our apartment, while he started his livestream I started cooking. Some Katsu cutlet with rice and fried eggs and soysauce.

Placing it in two rice bowls, and walking to our shared bedroom. I opened the door quietly, careful not to make any noise, not to disturb his livestream. I placed his bowl next to his PS4, and quietly sat down on our shared king sized bed. I ate my food while watching him gaming. After about 10 minutes I finished, meanwhile he didn’t even touch his food once or looked at it. I didn’t wanted to disturb him, so I sent him a message to eat his food before it gets cold.

After another 10 minutes I got an idea on how i could make him eat. I crawled under his gaming desk, gently laying my head on his left thigh, gently massaging the other one with my right hand. He slowly looks down, while I whispered to him to eat his food. Which he nodded to, but still didn’t touch his bowl once. This. Little. Bitch.

The fuck he thinks he is to just ignore me? So I decided to change my plan a little. Just a little. While he kept streaming and talking to his viewers I started massaging over his crotch, which finally got me a real reaction. Man’s almost choked on his own spit but no one noticed. But he kept ignoring me, so this bitch really wants to know it huh…?

Playing all cool in front of his friends, only if they knew what a little slut he is for me. I kept massaging a little harder on his crotch, already feeling how his boner grows. Still acting all cool huh? Wait till you feel this. I slowly pulled down his pants, together with his boxers. His cock jumping out of his boxers, saying hello to the cool air. A little whimper can be heard.

,,AYO? What was that Kodzuken? 🤨”

I heard one of his friends ask.

,,Nothing, are you schizophrenic or something?”

,,Nah, I heard what I heard. But if you say so…”

heh. You heard damn right, I slowly licked a stripe along his cock, then a few licks on the tip, which ended in me sucking his cock while he’s streaming. I can hear his breath getting faster, heavier, it got worse with every second. Swirling my tongue around his cock, adding my hand to pump what doesn’t fit in my mouth. When I felt him almost cumming I suddenly stopped and stood back up and let myself fall on the bed, watching some TikTok’s. After another 5 minutes I heard something like,

,, Alright, that’s all for today chat, see y’all in 2 days. Bye.”

then he ended the livestream and turned off his PS4, and walked over to the bed, laying down next to me, trying to kiss my neck.

,,Uh excuse me sir? Sluts that don’t eat don’t get to cum, it’s that easy. So eat your food now it might still be warm, if not put it in the microwave. After you ate we can maybe talk about this.”

He looks at me with the “are you serious right now” look on his eyes, but stood up and started eating. I knew he wanted to talk back, but this ain’t working on me, it’s only gonna make everything even worse for him, and he knew this. So I continued watching my videos, after a few minutes i felt something entering the bedsheets, one look down already told me everything.

so I laid back, turning off my phone and laid it down on the little nightstand next to the bed. I felt my pants being pulled down, then some light kisses and rubs against my clothed pussy. My heart starting to beat faster, legs lightly trembling. I felt him pulling my panties aside, his hot breath meeting my now free pussy. He slowly started licking along my pussylips, just how I like it. His tongue meeting my clit, licking lazy circles around it, sucking on it here and there.

,,H-hah…keep going, pretty boy.“

I told him, my breath getting a little heavy. He then moved his wet tongue from my clit to my entrance, now tongue fucking me.

,,Hnggh…just like t-that..“

I grabbed a fist full of his hair, pulling on it, he moaned into my pussy, sending little vibrations straight to my core.

,,Mmhh..g-gonna cum soon, pretty. Make mommy feel good..“

he then again started massaging light circles around my clit with his tongue, adding two fingers inside me, curling them up to meet my g-spot.

,,H-hnggghh~…just like thaat…you’re making mommy feel soooo good..”

my moans getting louder from minute to minute, the lewd sounds working me up even more,

,,P-please…mommy…wan’ you to…c-cum all over..m-my face…m-m’ s-soo…needy for your c-cum..”

that’s all I wanted to hear, him begging, knowing his place, the lewd sounds of moans and being eaten out mixed together sending me over the edge…

———

Sup:) There’s definitely going to be a part two for sure! It’s just it’s 1 am over here and I have to work in like 5 hours. 💀 so I’ll post part 2 tomorrow or Thursday:3 I hope you liked it

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heart4reigns · 11 months

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DRAGGED, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, kayfabe, bitch (y/n) alert!!

tags: austin theory trying to flirt, kissing, paul heyman being annoying, just pure agony between these two losers, pet names

summary: it's not an act, she's just a bitch

TURNING heel was definitely a career-defining moment for you. it was easier for you to be portrayed as the 'bad guy' in this industry. it made people think that you are, in fact, a bitch in real life–which was true. that helped people stray away from you. you were untouchable. no one dared to cross your path. people backstage remembered the 'austin theory' incident.

he thought you were only unapproachable on stage, but you were still the same after the camera stopped rolling. the male-wrestler decided it was a good idea to ask for your phone number and flirted a bit with you, in front of the crew, of course. things took a turn when you didn't say anything and just walked away. to say the least after that day, you were the talk of the town and no one bothered you.

after showing your face on tv, you went backstage in a hurrying matter–wanting to go home as fast as you could. you thanked god that the hallway to the parking lot was empty–so you thought–as you spotted a certain man in a suit. it was none other than paul heyman. of course he was there, he was everywhere.

you hated the entire bloodline (with an exception of solo and the twins) which leaves only paul and roman. they were insufferable. "hey, new girl." he greeted you. "what do you want?" your tone was cold. "you did great out there, you have so much potential." you only nodded in response. "is that all?" his eyes widened in surprise.

paul confirmed it himself that the rumors were true, you were hard to crack. "i'm interested in your future, you know, the draft is happening in a few days. you heard about it?" "yeah, and?" you knew he was a higher up in the board, but you couldn't careless. you were tired and you wanted to go home. "'if that's all, i'll be going home." without waiting for his answer, you went outside.

after hearing your footsteps fade away, paul immediately pulled out his phone and made the call. "hello, yes, you'd love her."

the next following days were somehow boring; you couldn't careless about the draft happening, you knew you were always going to be with the blue brand.

to say the least, the backstage was crowded with people. you passed crews doing their own job, like usual. wardrobe passed the iconic blue shirt that they were bringing back since the 2000s. "now we have to wear this thing again?" you raised an eyebrow at the staff. "y- yes. the boss asked us to bring it back." you sighed in agony. "okay." was all that came out of your mouth.

you sat at the very back, not wanting to gain attention from anyone. but like a diamond in a sea of blood, you stood out. one by one, the stars entered the room, you spotted your coworkers, only nodding at them when they greeted you. and there he was.

the undisputed wwe universal champion, roman reigns. you've never interacted with him or even spared a glance at him. he had this aura that you hated. he was just as dominant as you were. people were intimidated by his position and the power he had. he just had to sit right next to you.

he was alone. what a rare sight. the twins were two rows in front of you. so it was quite strange for the tribal chief himself to not sit in front, gaining everyone's attention. but then again, you couldn't careless. you could feel his eyes on you. "what do you want?" you asked, each word laced with ice. he didn't respond. "then stop staring at me, we're rolling in 5."

the draft started and everyone got into character. not you though, you were still the same. you saw triple h, speaking to the microphone. "this first pick, goes to smackdown, and they select... all four drafted as one. paul heyman, solo sikoa, the undisputed wwe universal champion, roman reigns. and the lone wolf, (y/n) (l/n). the bloodline!" the camera panned to the two of you as you heard people in the room gasping. "what the f–"

and things went downhill after that.

the cameras stopped rolling and you didn't know what to do. your entire career path was a mess. no one said anything to you about being drafted with the bloodline. the last thing you remembered before you were dragged into a meeting room was that smug look plastered on roman's face. as soon as the door closed, leaving 6 people–including you, alone, hell broke loose. "what the fuck is this about?" you raised your voice.

"listen, (y/n)." paul was the first one to speak up. "no, you listen to me you little shit. i was doing fine alone, now i am dragged into this bullshit family drama without me knowing? what the fuck happened to diplomacy?" you furrowed your eyebrows. solo, jey, and jimmy were speechless. people would kill to be in the bloodline. "you just had to drag me into this mess that i don't want. i would prefer to be drafted to raw for fuck's sake."

"leave." a word came out of roman's mouth, instructing the other 5 to leave the room and they did. this was the very first time you were left alone with the tribal chief himself. the room was quiet, tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife. "if you think i am scared of you, you're wrong." you barked at him. "calm down, babygirl." the black-haired man chuckled. "do not fucking call me babygirl, i have a name."

you didn't know what was going on in the minds of the creative board, but you didn't like it. "if you stop being a hot-headed babygirl, we can talk terms." he said. "then fucking explain it! i was doing so good alone, roman. i don't even know you." you continued. "it was my idea to include you in the bloodline." he paused for a second to stare at you.

"paul saw your potential and i watched your match against bayley. this entire lone wolf act, you fit right in." "well, it's not an act. i work alone." you glared at him, trying to fight back. "fuck you, i don't want to see you." he leaned in closer and grabbed your chin. "babygirl," roman paused for a second, not breaking eye-contact. "i'm not going anywhere." oh it was so on for the two of you.

the first match was in 2 weeks. it was already stressful enough for you to train with the bloodline. you arrived at their usual gym, still pissed off by the fact that you weren't going to train alone. "hey, (y/n)!" jimmy greeted you with a smile. you nodded in response and went straight to the ring.

roman was standing there with a clipboard in his hands, scribbling something down. "you're late." he said, not looking at you. "blame my uber." paul entered the ring with the twins and solo. "so i just got word from creatives that they're going to push the two of you," paul paused for a second to point at you and roman. "into a tag team."

just when you thought things couldn't get worse than before, it did. "you gotta be shitting me." you cursed out. the smug look came back once again. "they're putting you up in a match with sami and kevin." the four wrestlers chuckled. "this is so funny." jey chuckled. "oh they're going to love it." paul added.

the training started and surprisingly, the chemistry between roman and you were unmatchable. you never doubted him and his strength and the same goes to him. "punch him as the last move." you suggested, scribbling down some additional notes. "and you'll flip owens over the ropes." he knew exactly what you were thinking about. "right." then again, you were kind of surprised how well the two of you were in-sync.

training ended, leaving only you and roman in the gym. the others left as they didn't have anything to do. you hated the fact that the two of you were a match. "you did great, babygirl." he said, taking off his gloves. "call me 'babygirl' one more time and i'll knock you out without any hesitation." you stared at him. roman chuckled darkly. that was kinda hot, you thought. "i'm leaving."

"no, you're going to eat with me." "and what if i say no?" you raised an eyebrow. "i'm going to kiss you on live television." this man was getting on your nerves. "if you do that, i'm actually going to fucking kill you." and there you were, in his car, eating your feelings away. you hated this. you hated the fact that you were under his control.

you didn't want him to actually kiss you on live television, it could damage your cold image. "are you always this hard to deal with, sweetheart?" he asked you, taking a bite of him fries. "are you always this fucking annoying to women?" "only to you, baby." you groaned in frustration. "why do you work alone?" questions kept coming from him. "because i don't like people."

"but you'll like me soon." like hell i would, you thought. sure he was handsome, everyone wanted to be with him, but his ego was triple the size of his achievements. “you know, you were once a men’s locker room topic.” you furrowed your eyebrows. “what does that supposed to mean?” you took a sip of your drink. “the guys had a bet on who could have your number first. i didn’t participate because it was pretty dumb.” roman chuckled at the memory.

“i’m not something to bet on.” you defended yourself. “i know, that’s why i told them to call it off. but some of them, not naming any names, didn’t listen.” you had flashbacks of the austin theory incident. “god, people are so fucking dumb sometimes.” it was the first time that he heard you laugh. “sorry, i just hate it when people think that they can easily break me by flirting with me and all. it doesn’t work like that for me.”

“so what works for you?” he asked. “nothing works for me, i’m here to get paid. not flirt with people and be a trophy that men can just carry around.” your answer made his eyes softer than before. “don’t fucking cry on me now, big boy. i don’t need empathy.” you barked. still, the toughest one out there, he thought. “anyways, paul asked about what do you wanna do to gain attention for our match?” he stirred the conversation to work stuff.

“i don’t know, don’t need anything, people will either boo at me or they’ll praise the ground i walk on. what do you wanna do?” you returned the question. “let me kiss you.” that sentence made you choke on air. “be fucking for real, roman.” you stared at him. “i’m serious, babygirl. imagine the views, the engagements, the talk. you said you wanted a great match? i’ll give you a great match.” you were not going to kiss this hot man for the sake of views. “not going to fucking happen.” “trust me, i’m a good kisser. and i know you’re attracted to me.”

the booking decision went viral on social media. it was shocking news to everyone. you grew okay to working with the bloodline, you were able to tolerate all their antics including roman’s flirty nature. d-day came and you were ecstatic for it.

the locker room was filled with excitement. "LET'S GO, LET'S GOOOOO!" the twins were pumping with adrenaline. "WE'RE GOING TO EAT SHIT UP TODAY!" jey said. "jesus, calm down would you?" you rolled your eyes at him. "NO I CANNOT CALM DOWN, THIS IS D-DAY!" he was bumping his chest with sami. the locker room's excitement quickly died down as one of the staffs called in for you and roman.

the choreography worked out well for the 4 of you. countless practices and you were ready to go. "let's go." roman said, dragging you out to the hallway. "i can walk on my own, big dog." he smirked. "not in my world." roman was practically holding your hand. "it's good for the act." he assured you. what act? you just want to get it with me, you thought.

"for the first time ever, the undisputed wwe universal champion and the lone wolf in a tag team match against sami zayn and kevin owens, this is history!" the announcer yelled. walking down to the ring was painful for you as roman kept holding your hand. you kept a straight face along the way, hoping that he would drop your hand soon, but he didn't.

the match started and it was going well, until kevin accidentally tripped and landed on you. you clenched your teeth in pain. this is why you didn't like working with people. you pulled through and there was only one move left. roman's eyes was filled with concern but you gave him a quick nod and flipped kevin over the ropes. "and your here are your winners for the tag team match, the undisputed wwe universal champion, roman reigns and the lone wolf, (y/n) (l/n)!" he looked at you with a huge smirk plastered on his face.

oh shit, you thought. he was going to do it. "you are not going to kiss me!" you shook your head in panic.

there you were, standing still, while he kissed your lips. the entire crowd went wild. you know what? fuck it, for the views, you thought. you responded to the kiss and left him in shock. "what? cat got your tongue?" you lifted his hand up, acknowledging your victories. "i'm going to give you hell for this." you mouthed at him. "look at them, the lovebirds! that should be their tag team name!”

the locker room atmosphere was unbeatable. everyone was praising you for your moves. "(y/n), that was amazing!" kevin greeted you with a smile. "i'm sorry i kinda botched the last move, i wasn't very careful." he apologized. "yeah, we're good. although it hurts like a bitch but that's life." kevin still felt bad. "dude, chill. now go away and get some rest." you assured him that you were going to be okay.

roman came back to the locker room, after being the last one to exit the ring. that was a long ass outro, you thought. "babygirl, you did so good." a shiver ran down your spine. "of course i did." you took off your gloves. "you're a good wrestler and an even better kisser." your cheeks flushed. "why the fuck did you do that?" "because i wanted to."

"you could've just asked." you were challenging him. "so, can i get a kiss now?" he raised an eyebrow. "no." you barked at him. "i always get what i want." the cocky tone made you agitate. "you know what? fuck it." you stood up from your seat and leaned closer to him. it caught him off-guard as you placed your lips on his. the locker room cheered as they saw you provoking the tribal chief himself. "you got what you wanted, now i want something in return. i want you to take me on a proper date so you can get a proper kiss."

#roman reigns #the usos #wwe #roman reigns imagine #paul heyman #wwe imagines #roman reigns x reader #fuck idk what to put #sami zayn #kevin owens #jimmy uso #jey uso #solo sikoa #the bloodline #bloodline imagines #bloodline

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kwanisms · 1 year

Text

🎄Tales from Camp Holiday Special 01🎄

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➮ bouncer!Seungcheol × fem!Reader wc: 4.6k summary: For most people, the holidays mean gathering with family and having dinner, exchanging presents. For Seungcheol, it means freezing temperatures and drunk patrons. But that came with the territory of being a bouncer at one of the city's busiest clubs. Although, he never expected to find among all the drunk people the familiar face of Y/N. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; holiday themes, bar/club culture; non idol au, bouncer au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @dreamhannies @wonw00t @aikisbbq @hoshithinker @eneiyri @ninanyctophilia @everyw0nu @enhacolor @hybe02z @wonwoothinker @baldi-2 @1004luvangel @hellolittlequeen @duchesskaren @coupsiekkuma @yoonjin96 @sherituhhh join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closes after part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: here we are! The first installment of the Tales from Camp Holiday Special! I hope you enjoy this series. Each part won't be too long but easily a few thousand words a piece! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (as hot as Cheol is, use protection. I know we all wanna be bred by him), daddy kink, breeding, choking, marking (f receiving), impact play (spanking; f receiving), rough sex, creampie (yum), use of pet names (babygirl, baby), mild degradation (bitch, slut), dirty talk, dom!Cheol, brat!Reader, and that’s about it!

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“What do we have today?”

Seungcheol looked up from the tablet as his coworker, Sunghoon, walked over, removing his jacket and setting it on the stand. “I thought we had an event today,” Sunghoon admitted, looking at the screen of the tablet over Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol shook his head. “No, that’s not until the twenty-sixth,” he answered, returning his attention to the screen.

Today he was in charge of the entrance of the club, overseeing the entry of all patrons.

It was the twenty-third of December and only two days until Christmas.

The club would be closed Christmas Day but it would be open normal hours on Christmas Eve which Seungcheol didn’t mind. He wasn’t one to celebrate the holiday. Sure he went to Daegu to see his family but usually he worked the day after so he wasn’t able to stay for very long.

As the head of security, it was his job to ensure all bouncers were properly trained and that operations ran smoothly. As long as he did his job, the bar would make money, the bartenders could serve the patrons and the patrons had a good time.

“Tonight is business as usual,” Seungcheol started as another one of his bouncers, Baek-ho, walked over, also removing his jacket but putting it back on as the front door opened and the frigid winter air hit them.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Sara, one of the bartenders called as she walked past them.

Seungcheol nodded in response, his eyes still trained on the screen as he checked over the schedule and positioning of his staff. “Merry Christmas, Sara!” Sunghoon said, smiling at the small young woman as she disappeared behind the counter, removing her thick overcoat to reveal the short red and white Christmas themed ensemble she wore underneath.

“So boss,” Baek-ho said as he approached. “Where you want me?”

“I’ll let you know once everyone gets here,” Seungcheol answered, glancing up momentarily to give the man a short smile.

It only took another ten minutes for the rest of his security staff to arrive.

Once everyone was there, Seungcheol assigned them their posts and prepared for the club to open its doors.

“You with us today, boss?” Sunghoon asked, grabbing his jacket and pulling it back on as Seungcheol checked his watch. “Yep, I’ll be moving to and from stations to relieve people for breaks,” he added, turning as he heard his name being called.

The owner of the voice was the manager of the bar, Damien. Seungcheol remembered how the pair of them started working at the club together and both had worked their way up to the positions they held now.

“Are we all set?” Damien asked as he approached the stand where Baek-ho was currently setting up the entry process. Seungcheol glanced over at Baek-ho who glanced up and gave him and thumbs up, indicating he was ready. Seungcheol turned back to Damien and nodded.

“All good to go,” he replied.

The first hour of business was probably the most demanding. Lines out the queuing and down the sidewalk meant that inside was packed full of people. It wasn’t like the club was the newest in town, it had been around for a while. It was popular for its high cover charge but low priced drinks which just so happened to be strong.

The bartenders were heavy handed and especially on a night like tonight. Stronger drinks meant better tips.

True to his word, Seungcheol made sure to make his rounds, relieving anyone who felt they needed a break or needed to head to the bathroom. It was his job as head of security to lead by example and he preferred it that way. His staff was more likely to want to continue working for him if he was a good boss.

About three hours into opening and Seungcheol found himself back at the front of the club, relieving one of his roamers so he could sneak off to the bathroom.

Keeping his hands behind his back and maintaining a commanding presence was one of the most crucial parts of being a bouncer. He was scanning the area, making sure people weren’t getting into trouble or making a scene. It was a simple job. Keep the peace but make sure everyone stays safe.

Seungcheol was currently eyeing up a group of guys who were shouting along to the music, making a general ruckus. He caught the eye of one of his other roamers and nodded toward the group. The other bouncer nodded and started making his way through the crowd to politely tell the guys to knock it off.

Sensing he was no longer needed in that area, he moved to head past the bar but stopped as his body collided with another, emitting a loud ‘oof.’

“I’m so sorry!” A voice said in his ear.

‘Wait… I know that voice.’

Seungcheol glanced down and his eyes widened when they landed on the owner of the voice.

‘No way. It can’t be…’

“Y/N?”

It had, in fact, been you he’d run into. The universe worked in mysterious ways.

Or something like that.

Moments later, his roamer had returned from his bathroom break, giving Seungcheol a moment to speak with you.

“Wow, how are you?” You asked, smiling up at him, nursing a drink as you stood off to the side near the bar.

You noticed how much Seungcheol had changed and how he also hadn’t. The smile was the same, the same dimples appeared whenever he flashed you his pearly whites and you took notice at how much he’d matured since you last saw him.

He’d also filled out and was much more muscular than you remembered.

“I’m alright,” he answered with a nod. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he admitted.

You responded with a shy smile. “Yeah,” you answered, taking a sip of your cocktail. “I’m actually visiting friends for the holiday in between work,” you answered. “My family isn’t exactly accepting after the whole protest fiasco,” you added nervously. Seungcheol nodded. He remembered seeing you in the background in one of the photos of the protest.

“It was actually pretty cool to see you in the pictures,” Seungcheol said, smiling at you which had heat rising into your cheeks. “I’m sure I looked ridiculous. I was in the middle of screaming,” you answered, remembering the picture in question. Seungcheol shook his head. “I think it was really cool of you,” he replied.

As the night went on, talking with you was surprisingly easier than Seungcheol thought possible.

It wasn’t until your friends appeared with their jackets and claiming to be ready to move onto the next bar that it sank in that he might never get this chance again.

You turned to give him an apologetic smile, taking your coat from your friend.

“It was really great seeing you again.”

“Would you like to get drinks while you’re still in town?”

The two of you had spoken at the same time and over one another so neither picked up on what the other said.

You let out a laugh, the sound making his heart race.

“I’ll be in town until after the first of the year,” you admitted after asking Seungcheol to repeat his question.

“I’d love to get drinks with you.”

╾─────────────⭒✧⭒─────────────╼

You checked your watch, feeling frustrated that it was only 6:45.

You had agreed to meet for drinks with Seungcheol at 7 at the bar at your hotel but in your eagerness to see him again, you’d shown up much too early. You sat at the bar, drumming your fingers lightly against the countertop as you looked around at the decor.

The hotel was one of the nicest you’d stayed in.

The lobby was a large room with floor to ceiling windows, letting in all the natural light during the day. The walls of the lobby were off white with ornate paneling and gold detailing, bringing out the gold veining of the black marbled floors. The furniture was cream with gold legs, simple clean lines like most modern pieces.

The front desk stood across from the grand entrance of the lobby, recessed lighting at the floating base gave the light wood an ethereal look as did the waterfall wall behind the desk with back lighting. The tile of the wall behind the waterfall was a dark navy. In the seating area of the lobby, above the curved back chairs arranged in a circle around a large low circular table was what you thought was the highlight of the room.

An ornate, hanging and lighted art piece, almost like a modern chandelier but much too grand to have been placed in a home. It was easily ten feet tall, hanging in a cascading fashion from the ceiling down to the floor, passing through a cut out in the circular table in the center. It was an incredible sight to behold.

On the other side of the lobby were large floor to ceiling glass windows and doors, leading into what you assumed was the ballroom on one side and the spa on the other side. You had yet to visit either but hoped you got the chance before you had to check out after the first of the year.

You checked your watch again and sighed heavily upon realizing that a mere 7 minutes had passed since you last checked the time. It really was crawling along.

The bar of the hotel was through one of the two archways from the lobby that stood on either side of the front desk. The other archway led to the hall with the elevators leading up to the guest rooms.

The bar was a huge contrast to the light airiness of the lobby.

It was dark with lots of backlit walls and recessed lighting. The walls were dark and textured, catching the lights and casting shadows. The bar was a long slim rectangular, black top and epoxied. The bar along the bottom was gold, matching the gold of the barstools and tables that stood around the room.

You were just glad it wasn’t crowded like it had been the last few nights, though it was still pretty early.

Despite being labeled as a hotel bar, it really felt more like a club atmosphere than a hotel bar. There was a small booth in the corner, sat upon a pedestal where a DJ was currently setting up his gear.

In front of the stage where the booth was, the floor was a different material. A smooth black tile in contrast to the dark cool toned wood of the rest of the room. ‘It must be a dance floor.’

Although it was nearly empty, you were sure soon the room would be packed.

You heard the barstool next to you moved and silently prayed it was Seungcheol and not some random man.

Turning, you were relieved to find it was indeed your date.

Seungcheol gave you a warm smile, offering a breathless “hey” as the dimples on either side of his face appeared. God how you missed that smile.

“Hey,” you replied as he turned to face the bar. “Have you been waiting long?” He asked, looking up at you.

‘Oh only 20 minutes but that’s just because I was much too eager,’ you thought with a grimace.

Shaking your head you gave him a smile. “Nope,” you lied.

Seungcheol could see it in your eyes. You never were a good liar the entire time he spent with you at camp.

Deciding not to tease you about arriving early, he instead turned his head to grab the attention of the bartender who strolled over. “Your date finally arrived!” The bartender said with a wide smile, looking at you.

You felt your face flush. ‘Fuck. Busted.’

Seungcheol chose to ignore that and instead ordered his drink.

“Can I get uh…” he started, grabbing one of the small books sitting on the counter, eyes skimming over the holiday themed cocktails quickly. “A Spiked Cider?” He asked, setting the book down before looking over at you.

“And a—?” He continued, waiting for your order. “A vodka cranberry,” you ordered quickly, having already looked over the little book more times than you were willing to admit, even to yourself.

The bartender said nothing, instead turning to start mixing your drinks.

You allowed your eyes to wander, inspecting what Seungcheol had chosen to wear as he shrugged off his coat, letting it rest against the back of his barstool. He wore a simple black long sleeve shirt, most likely made of satin though it was hard to tell in the low lighting.

His shirt was tucked into a pair of black fitted pants, hugging his thighs and no doubt his backside. He was much more muscular than he had been back at summer camp all those years ago. He finished off his ensemble with a pair of black shoes and a black wool coat.

You tore your eyes from checking out his body as he rolled his sleeves up and turned to look at you, the same warm smile on his face.

“So when do you leave town?” He asked, turning his stool slightly to face you so the two of you could converse smoothly.

“After the first of the year,” you admitted. “I’m only here for work actually,” you added.

Seungcheol nodded before looking around. “Not bad lodgings for a work trip,” he commented to which you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. “Yeah,” you said, chuckling nervously.

Why the hell were you so nervous? It’s not like this was some handsome stranger. This was a guy you spent an entire summer hooking up with when you were younger.

“Have you at least been able to enjoy yourself without work?” He asked, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow sitting on the counter as he looked at you with those dark brown eyes of his.

You nodded silently. “Er— yeah, actually,” you added. “I’ve been able to see some of my friends,” you continued, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you fell into comfortable conversation with Seungcheol. It was like you hadn’t lost touch over the years.

Your drinks arrived shortly after and soon the bar started filling up with patrons. Seungcheol paid for your drinks, though you offered to pay for your own, he wouldn’t hear it. The two of you migrated away from the bar, settling into a small but cozy booth in the corner away from prying eyes of the other patrons.

One drink turned into two and you were nursing your third drink when Seungcheol made a funny remark about one of the bouncers who looked much too serious for his liking.

You nearly spit out your drink, another vodka cranberry, setting the glass on the table top and lightly smacked his arm. “Cheo!” He smiled widely at you, trying to suppress his giggles as you shook your head, trying not to laugh.

“What?” He asked, holding his hands up, laughter finally coming through as you leaned into his side, muffling your giggles in your hand, your other hand landing on his thigh as you supported your weight.

Seungcheol’s eyes fell to your hand resting on his thigh, his heart nearly stopping.

His eyes traveled back up, meeting yours in the dim lighting and your smile slowly fell. You looked down where your hand was resting on his leg and immediately pulled back, a rushed apology tumbling from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, sitting back and trying to put some distance between the two of you.

Before you could scoot away however, you felt his fingers enclose around your wrist and looked up to meet his darkened gaze.

The way he was looking at you had heat rushing through your body to your face and your core.

It was the same way he looked at you almost every night at camp all those years ago.

You knew deep down that if he asked you to leave with him you would.

But would he ask? Or would you?

╾─────────────⭒✧⭒─────────────╼

If someone had bet against Seungcheol that he'd end up in bed with you that night, he would have laughed at them.

But he also would have lost that bet.

He knew from the moment you asked him to come back up to your room he was done for.

And when your lips met his in the elevator, he knew he made the right call in saying yes.

It had been so long since he'd last gotten to taste you and now that he was here again, he wouldn't make the same mistakes as last time. Not calling you after the summer ended was one of his biggest regrets in life and the universe deemed to give him a second chance. He certainly wasn’t going to ruin it.

"Fuck," you groaned, back arching off the hotel bed as Cheol licked a trail from your clit up to your navel. "I forgot how good you are at that," you whispered, looking down at him in the dim lighting of the room. He gave you a cheeky smile, moving to hover over you.

"Maybe I should go again, just so you don't forget," he offered, dimples appearing as his smile widened. Your hand moved, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in.

"Maybe later," you replied breathlessly, pressing your lips against his hurriedly. "For now, I'd rather have your lips up here and something else down there," you continued, mumbling against his lips as your hands moved to undo the buckle of his belt.

Seungcheol chuckled against your lips, moving one hand to help you undo his pants.

"Someone's eager," he laughed as you let out a frustrated growl, pulling his belt from the loops on his pants and tossing it away. "I can't tell you how much I missed this," you responded, undoing the button and zipper on his pants and pushing the fabric down enough to grab him through his underwear.

“How much I missed you.”

Whatever snide remark he was about to make slipped his mind as his lips parted and he moaned, hips rolling into your touch.

"Someone's eager," you said with a smirk, mirroring his words.

Seungcheol let out a growl, crashing his lips against yours in a heated fight for dominance, which he won, his hands taking over for yours as he pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs.

"You trying to tease me, babygirl?" he asked in a dark tone.

You opened your lips to respond but he'd had enough of your bratty behavior in the past. He didn't give you a chance to respond, lining the tip of his cock with your slit and pushing into you with one hard thrust.

Instead of whatever comment you planned on making, a moan fell from your lips as he bottomed out quickly. Your thighs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Holy shit," you gasped, walls clenching around his girth as you tried to adjust to and accommodate his size. You'd forgotten how big he was.

Your head turned to the side instinctively as you felt him leave soft kisses down your cheek and jaw until his lips were against your pulse point. You waited with baited breath until you felt his tongue flatten against your skin, licking slowing up the side of your neck, stopping to sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh.

You let out a whimper as he sucked harshly, no doubt leaving behind a mark. You were about to ask him to move, beg him for something but your words failed as you felt his teeth graze the exposed skin of your collar, no doubt leaving behind another mark in his wake.

"You know," Seungcheol said as he pulled back, circling his hips and making you gasp at the sudden friction of his cock against your walls.

"You don't have to hold back," he continued, eyes watching the way your face contorted in pleasure as he rolled his hips against yours.

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. "What do you mean?" you asked, moaning as he pulled back and gave you a singular shallow thrust, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"You don't have to keep quiet."

You were about to make a comeback buy Seungcheol wasn't having it, pulling back again and thrusting into you hard, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck," he growled, starting a heavy pace, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room as he fucked you against the mattress.

"God, I missed fucking this pussy," he panted, hand moving up your chest to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck and squeezing gently as his hips continued their assault.

Whatever bratty remarks you could have made were wiped from your mind as he pounded into you.

"Look at you," Seungcheol said, a smug smirk on his face.

"Barely even begun and you're already a mess under me. Are you not getting fucked properly?" he asked. You couldn't respond, only incoherent moans leaving your lips.

"I asked you a question, baby," he answered, fingers tightening around your neck slightly.

"No!" you gasped out, heart pounding in your ears.

"No, what?" Seungcheol asked, brow furrowed as he continued to thrust hard into you, each drag of his thick cock against your walls had your toes curling and eyes rolling with pleasure.

"No daddy," you whimpered.

The way his heart leapt at the words made his head spin. He'd never felt that pull before with you. What was different this time?

"That's my good girl," he groaned, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, letting go of your throat as he continued to thrust quickly into you. “Ah, shit,” you groaned. You felt his fingers grab your chin firmly.

“Such a dirty mouth,” he growled, thumb brushing over your bottom lip before pushing past the plush skin and into your mouth where you welcomed the intrusion with your tongue, swirling it around his thumb and sucking.

“You always knew how to use it,” he added in a lower voice as he watched your eyes flutter shut.

He pulled his hand back, thumb leaving your mouth quickly as your eyes opened to meet his.

You let out a whine as Seungcheol pulled out of you and grabbed your hip, turning you over onto your stomach. "Take this off," he ordered, tugging at the base of your dress that was currently hiked up around your waist.

He quickly got rid of his own clothes as you slipped your dress off and let it fall to the floor before he was on his knees behind you, lining himself up with your entrance again and entering you with one movement.

From the new angle, you could feel him even deeper.

Moaning, you let your head fall into the sheets as he started a quick and relentless pace, hips hitting your ass as he held your waist tightly in place.

"How are you still so fucking tight?" he groaned, punctuating each word with a particularly hard thrust, ending with a sharp smack to your ass.

As his hand made contact with your skin, your walls clenched around him and his hips stuttered for a moment before he was back in pace.

"Should have known you still like being spanked," he said with a scoff. You pushed back to meet his thrust and felt your adrenaline spike as he growled in response, grip on your waist tightening as he gave you a particularly harsh thrust.

You let out a scream in response, fueling his actions and stroking his ego. "That's right, baby, let everyone hear how good I fuck you," he said softly, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"Let them all know what a good fucking slut you are," he added.

"Mmm, yes daddy," you whined, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts again. "Keep doing that and I'll pin you to the bed and fuck you like the needy little bitch you are."

You let out a moan at his words, wanting nothing more than for him to dominate you. He was much stronger than he'd been during that summer and you wanted him to use that new strength on you.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, using his strength to push your chest down against the sheets but keeping your ass up.

“Ah~ yes daddy!” You cried out as your body was pinned down.

"Such a needy little slut in heat,” Seungcheol grunted, his thrusts slowing for a moment before he was back to pounding into you with renewed vigor.

“I bet you want me to cum inside your sweet little cunt. Fill you up with my load and breed you," he said through gritted teeth. You moaned, the sound muffled by the sheets as he continued to fuck you hard.

"You'd like me to fill you up? Pump you full of my cum?"

You felt his hand strike your ass again and let out another moan, clenching around him again, drawing him closer to his own climax.

"Oh fuck, keep doing that, baby. Keep squeezing me like that and I'll fucking cum," he groaned, his free hand running soothingly over the red marks on your ass.

"Are you close?" you heard his whisper, making you nod quickly with a mewl as you could feel your own release approaching.

"Of course you are," Seungcheol said with a chuckle. "You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?"

You nodded again, fingers digging into your sheets. "Yes d-daddy!"

"Mm, fuck. Yeah you are. Gonna cum all over this cock and let me fill your pretty pussy?" You nodded again, moans leaving your lips as Seungcheol's thrust started to grow more erratic as he chased his high. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whimpered, your orgasm washing over you as Seungcheol helped you ride it out.

"Shit. Mm gonna-" he hissed. "Do it," you whimpered. "Come inside me, daddy," you moaned, holding onto the sheet and letting him pound into you until his hips finally stilled, and he came with a moan, spilling his load inside you, coating your walls in white.

Neither one of you spoke, only panting as you came down from your highs.

Finally, Seungcheol pulled out of you carefully, grimacing as his release slowly spilled out of you, running down the inside of your thighs.

"Hang on," he murmured, getting off the bed and moving to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and run it under the tap.

He returned, carefully wiping the cloth against your skin, cleaning you up. "You might want to go to the bathroom," he muttered, grimacing as he tried to clean up his semen.

You let out a light chuckle. "This is just like the first time," you replied and Seungcheol couldn't help but laugh in response, remembering how he'd filled you so much that time that it spilled out of you and onto the gym mats in the storage shed.

"I almost forgot about that part," he admitted, helping you up and supporting you to the bathroom as your legs shook slightly. "I couldn't forget it if I tried," you answered in a low voice, not realizing Seungcheol had heard you.

You stopped at the door, turning to look at him.

"Will you be here when I get done?" you asked, looking hopeful.

Seungcheol smiled, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. "I'm not going anywhere," he responded softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips, causing you to smile brightly.

"Okay, cause I'd actually like to talk some more," you admitted, cheeks heating up under his gaze. His smile widened, dimples appearing on both sides of his face.

"I'd like that, too," he responded.

"We have a lot more to catch up on."

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #series: tales from camp holiday special

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hwan-g · 1 year

Text

DAYS OF CANDY. seo changbin

pair. bouncer! changbin x fem! reader (+ seungmin, chan, minho) | genre. slight gang activity, bad boy, infatuation at first sight, angst, smut | warnings. profanity, brief violence, depictions of toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of murder, mental struggle, age gap (unrelated to plot), unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, generally flawed characters | word count. 14.9k | in the same universe as route 66 and midnight diner but can be read as standalone.

synopsis. a lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls.

It was an ordinary night, when you made the wrong choice.

You’d heard of the reputation Route 66 had built for itself, knew how hard it was to get past the two infamous bouncers at the door, and of that one incident on the 16th of February, the one that made it on the news and forced the club to shut down for a whole month. The owner, Bang Chan, refused to give any statements, and the entire ordeal was soon forgotten, swept under the rug by people that refuse to acknowledge the existence of gang activity in their city.

You had a high school friend that worked there as a bartender, someone you’d been quite close to once, but drifted apart from when you first got together with your boyfriend. Minho still called you sometimes—he hated texts, hated how impersonal they were, and would rather hear your voice instead—just to see how you were doing, if you still worked at the same retail store you started at right after graduation, and that he hopes you’re doing okay, that he’s only a phone call away if you ever need him, and you know you can always just come visit me, right?

You knew that, wished you could say it was easy for you to do that, but that was merely denial talking. You worked a full time job that took up most of your time, and when you weren’t selling clothes, you were washing and folding them, you were consumed by a man that refused to let you take one step away from him, an apartment that felt more like a prison than a refuge. There had been a social life once, but that seemed lifetimes ago now, nothing but a distant dream. There had also been a time where your boyfriend was your whole world, and you’d love for nothing else but to be in his presence always, stuck to him like glue, but that had also withered away somewhere, and died.

Freedom seemed like paradise now. Being alone, elsewhere—you prayed for it every night before going to bed, even in your sleep. It was detrimental that something gave, and soon. You wanted to call Minho again, wanted to ask how he was doing for once, and not the other way around. No more rushed interactions, or seething looks; hands as fists, skin on skin, anger as teeth—

There was a birthday party at Route, your boyfriend’s brother was turning twenty-eight, and had invited seemingly every person he ever came across. Of course, that wouldn’t run on 66; all who entered that door had to be handpicked especially by the two men guarding it, and that was no easy task. You’d been once, a quick drink with a coworker on a regular Thursday, which turned out to be a confessional session with Minho until two in the morning, at which point he declared you entirely too drunk to return home and left his shift early to take you to his house and let you sleep it off in his bed.

Lee Minho was a good friend. He cared for you like no other man had ever done in your life, and it was not an obvious thing for him. You had to earn his respect, his time; not everyone could do it, certainly not many were willing to, and even fewer actually succeeded. It was effortless with you because you actually tried, you took the extra mile, and you never demanded anything of him. You just were, orbiting around him, once a sun to his planet, now an old survival instinct. He had lost many family members over the years; you’d held his hand as his parents passed away, held him when he cried, stayed on the phone on graduation day as he told you he wouldn’t show up, and could you pick up his diploma for him?

Many times you wondered where it all went, how it came to this. He’d been your closest friend for so many years, but as you stare at your boyfriend already picking a fight with the brown-haired man you’d come to know as Kim Seungmin, you realize that you let him go—let it all go—for a stupid, stupid boy that had sucked the fucking life out of you, and could just not stop doing it to anyone he ever interacted with. You’d been so naive, so incredibly dumb.

It made sense now, what you really had to do. But how you did it—that was your first mistake. You thought you were destined for a mundane life, an ordinary existence. No one could’ve prepared you for this.

“Say, should I call the cops on you, or fuck you up myself?” An extremely muscled man appeared through the underground bar’s entrance, black locks falling over his forehead, obscuring dark eyes. “I’ll be nice and make it your call.”

He locked eyes with you for a single moment, before his hard face turned its attention back to your boyfriend currently gripping your arm so tight it felt like all blood circulation had stopped. His strong arms flexed, the skin veiny, rock solid in the white button up, and his chest looked ready to pop out of that black vest with the business tie, all formal, all currently stirring something incredibly dark within you.

If you had a voice, you’d beg him to make that call, plead with him for a chance at freedom. But you didn’t, you couldn’t possibly find it at that moment, as the other man flashed his gun discreetly, a deadly warning to your boyfriend’s ominous words. You had to give it to him, no matter how sick to your stomach it made you—he had ways to hurt people, ways to make them disappear. He liked hurting you the most, his precious girl. Sometimes in ways that couldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

“Time’s ticking, fuckface,” the seemingly older guy threatened, getting closer to his target’s face. You whimpered, looking down to hide your discomfort, but not before you noticed him studying the movement. “Let her go.”

“Fuck out of my face, before you regret it,” your boyfriend snarled back, and shook you forward, yet refusing to release you. “You go inside, find my brother and tell him these two assholes are giving me trouble.”

Brown-haired boy laughed as the other one smirked. “Are we giving him trouble, Seungmin?”

“I don’t believe so, Changbin.” But both guns were glinting in the night sky, their intentions clear.

Changbin stood with both arms crossed in front of him, menacing, terrifying. “We just wanna be your friend, pretty boy. Let the girl go, so we can chat and braid our hair, yeah?”

If he’d only loosen his grip, then you could tug and pull away. Your brain’s autopilot had been turned on since before you left the apartment, there were responses but no reactions, and you were pretty sure both men could tell you’d been through this many times before. You always made it very apparent, in hopes someone would finally help you, someone would dare. It wouldn’t always be like this, but you had to make it happen. The man’s attention on you whispered of many things, but freedom—freedom was the first one promised.

“You’re the funny one, aren’t you?”

The smirk widened, a hand resting on the metal against his rib. “Perhaps we should let the pretty thing next to you decide that one. Last warning.”

You saw the exact moment you vanished from your boyfriend’s mind, his touch leaving you at once, murder written across his face as he got close to the bouncer, a punch ready to land, the violence you were so accustomed to coming to a climax, finally, a firework taking flight, a missile bomb launching—

The sound of clicking, multiple gasps from behind you, and then you saw it. Smooth black underneath his jaw, Changbin’s finger on the trigger, head tilted, smile wicked, sinister, his friend mirroring him, standing a breath away, on the ready—they were going to shoot, they were going to do it, they’ve done it before, you can smell it off of them, the gunpowder, the crime, the sin. You almost reach out, but for what? You wouldn’t stop it, you didn’t care to. You’d let it happen and slip past his caving body to find Minho, to announce you were free, to drink yourself oblivious and swear you’d never again become prey for men to feast on.

The end, so close.

“Walk away before this gets ugly,” Changbin stated, contained anger and ice cold amusement both evident in his tone. “We turned away your entire entourage, there’s nothing for you here.”

“Johnny, maybe you should go—”

The malicious eyes were on you again, once beautiful, holding so much in them, and you remember yourself wishing you could drown in all of it, for as long as possible, until eternity ceased. You loved this man once, with all your heart, but he was nothing short of a stranger to you now, and if he had died just moments prior, the thought of being glad for it scared you to your fucking core.

What sort of person had you become next to him? No more.

“I should go?” he asked incredulously, and his lips curled. “Fuck it, stay here for all I fucking care. No one will ever come back for you, (Y/N),” he spat, pointing a single finger at you, already walking backwards, away from you, forever. “Remember that.”

Both bouncers moved in front of you, hiding you from your, now, ex boyfriend’s view once and for all. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking until Changbin reached a hand out to take your fingers in his, his touch warm, the rings he wore cool against your skin, a juxtaposition. The red neon signs above your head made you dizzy, the weight of what had just happened pushing on your shoulders, tearing you from the inside. Three years of your life, given to a man that had left you as quick as a bullet.

Perhaps you should’ve killed him yourself. Now the moment’s wasted, there will be other victims, more misery—and your stuff, all of your things were in that apartment. Who was going to retrieve them, where were you supposed to go?

Was this a bad idea? If you pushed past them, maybe you could yell out, try to reason…until you figured how crazy that sounded. Still, a sick part of you wasn’t ready to be abandoned by him, and could not stand the thought of being alone. Tears blurred your vision, and you squeezed Changbin’s hand one time, eager for direction.

“Is Minho working tonight?” you question quietly, the music from inside the bar slipping through the cracks of the steel door.

Seungmin had gone back to his post, profiling people and opening the door for them once he received their money. Changbin had pulled you to the side so gently you’d barely noticed you’d been moved. The metal was gone, and its owner was searching to meet your gaze, to ask if you were okay, but to no avail. Your eyes were glued on his boots, the leather of it, the shoelaces tying up to black pants that fit snugly around toned thighs. He was handsome, a faint thought that shouldn’t have crossed your mind at a time like this, but you couldn’t look past it, either. He smelled of amber and he’d just popped something in his mouth.

You look up just in time to make out the red of his lollipop. Raspberry. It clicked against his teeth as he sucked on it; you were so near to him the stick of it was grazing your lips. You faltered, and took a step back. He let you, but he never once let go of your hand.

“He’s not, sweet thing,” he replied softly, giving you a curve of a smile. Draped in red, he appeared dreamlike. “No one’s gonna hurt you, yeah? You’re safe with me.”

You nod, but you can barely hold his gaze. He chuckles, sensing your struggle. Your throat is dry, your heart in shambles; you could really use a drink or two, before you made another terrible mistake. You needed to call Minho, let him know of your situation. Perhaps he would understand, and let you stay at his place until you figured what to do with your belongings, and the lease on your name. You couldn’t risk going yourself, but Changbin, maybe, if you could find the guts to ask something like that of him—

It didn’t feel right to involve your other friends, the ones not related to weapons and abuse, the ones that will never know what has happened to you, what will always remain part of your story, no matter if you’ve escaped for the time being or forever. Johnny was the vengeful type, and he certainly would not let it go. Anger had made a monster out of him, and everyone would pay for your insubordination. He didn’t take well to change, certainly not when it involved you. It was simply a matter of time.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling deeply. The bouncer in front of you rested his hands on your arms, rubbing soothingly there, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what to do.

“I have to go, I need to—I’ll—thank you,” you stumble through your words, turning to leave, hysteria bubbling in your chest, anxiety for what would become of you. “How could I ever repay what you did for me…”

“You can start with your name.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his. His mouth was moving, tongue rolling the lollipop around, and his hands dropped from your skin, as if he sensed how overwhelmed you felt. You were grateful for that small action, though a part of you wanted it, no, needed it, back. It felt grounding, real, like if it wasn’t there you’d float away somehow, incorporeal, a ghost.

Before you can even think about it, your fingers reach for his forearm, and his warmth wraps around your bones at once, the skin there, so human. Changbin seems alarmed, but remains patient with you, understanding. Your mouth is dry, but you try to swallow anyway, and his weight shifts, his gaze never drops, Seungmin is calling him—

“Yes, Kim?” he answers, but the connection is not tethered.

“The boss wants you in the back. Hey, beautiful, can I see an I.D—”

“He can wait,” he grunts, and that’s it. He’s back in your world, the one where your hand on him is the only thing keeping him alive, your eyes staring up at him the only way he’d prefer to die.

Fuck him, he’s the one in trouble, isn’t he?

“Sure, he can,” you distantly hear the brown-haired man mutter to himself sarcastically, after the two girls entered through the door. “He’s widely known for his patience.”

It brings you back to Earth. “You should go,” you encourage, smiling awkwardly, fingers unwrapping themselves hesitantly.

Changbin shakes his head, takes the stick out of his mouth. He faintly smells of red syrup. “I really fucking shouldn’t. Where are you gonna go? Do you have a place to stay?”

“I’ll figure it out, you honestly don’t have to worry about me, I can—” But you could do what? There was no way for you to finish that sentence.

He straightens his back, and it somehow makes him taller, more formidable. There’s something unreadable swimming in his expression, something between anger and compassion, and it knots your stomach, because the last thing you want is for someone to feel sorry for you. This is why no one knew, why you never said anything—you hated the pity, the charity that would come out of something like this.

A victim. You weren’t one.

“You’re with me. I’d be the last person that saw you tonight, and if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able—” he stops, sighs. He looks back to where Seungmin is standing, and brings those thunder eyes back to haunt you. “Just. Please, answer the question. Do you have a place to stay?”

It’s not what you expected. This man cares, he’s like Minho. But unlike him, there’s an edge to Changbin that you’ve never seen on anyone else, like he’d tear himself apart to help you, do whatever was physically possible to make sure you’re safe. It was kindness, pure and unfiltered, and a sense of principle that no one has ever shown you before. It felt warm, like him. So, you accepted.

“(Y/N),” you blurted out, moved by his persistence. He blinks. “My name is (Y/N).”

His smile is a thousand watts. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“She’s Minho’s ‘special girl,’” Seungmin declares, eavesdropping. “All I know about you has been against my will, darling, know that.”

Changbin smirks, and lights up, digging his elbow in the bouncer’s rib. “He means he’s charmed,” he says apologetically, rubbing his neck.

A smile breaks out on your face, and you wonder how is it possible to feel at home with two people you’ve practically just met? Your heart was beating right out of your chest at the thought of spending more time with them. So much so that you nearly forgot all about the bad.

It still lurked though, waiting for the right moment. For both of you.

“Another one, is it?” Bang Chan commented teasingly, counting money against the counter. “Are we collecting them or what?”

You blushed, as Changbin sprung out to wrestle his boss in your defense. Route 66’s owner laughed a throaty sound, and surrendered, coughing and fixing his black button up. You noticed his square jaw, the sharp gaze—the girl staring at him from up on the stage. There were questions, but for some reason you had no voice to ask them.

“It’s nothing like that, Bang,” the bouncer next to you stated, rather embarrassed. “The party of twenty that we sent off? She came with one of them.”

To that, Chan perked up. There was another girl working the bar, smaller and much quieter looking than the first one, and she smiled at you when she caught your eye. You smiled back politely, and turned back to the man talking to you. The place was dark, drenched in neon, but you could still make out his face, it was so sculpted.

“You’re Minho’s friend, yeah?”

You stuttered, shy. “Y-Yes. I thought he’d be here today.”

Chan measured you. “Personal day,” he explained simply, but his fingers were still moving across the bills. “Why’d you bring her to me?” he addresses Changbin without bothering to properly look his way.

“She has nowhere to go. He was violent with her.”

You heard the hum all the way where you stood. It sounded disinterested, and for a moment you felt yourself questioning what you were exactly doing there, with a bunch of strangers that didn’t owe you anything, but then you remember the black-haired man’s words, and you remain in your place, uncomfortable.

“Take her to 103,” the owner declared. “I’ll contact Lee, see if he answers. The room has been paid for the weekend, so rest, okay? If you need anything, tell Lover Boy here. I’m sure he'll oblige.”

Changbin audibly groaned, slapping his palm over his face. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

“Just saying, baby.”

“I’m going through the back door,” he ignored the pet name, grabbing you by the wrist. “Let Min know.”

Chan was already tuning out, the girl you saw earlier now whispering to his ear. She moved like a cat to you. Or a snake. It felt mystical to watch her.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s already aware,” was his last comment before you rounded the corner to the storage room.

There were two bikes parked in the back. Both a shiny black, though one was longer, vintage. The alley was dark, the bushes along the line of the club’s property well-kept. Your arms unconsciously folded over your upper body.

Changbin mounted the aged motorcycle, turning the ignition switch, the angry roar of the engine and bright lights making you flinch. The chain hanging from his pants dangled, the metallic sound drawing your attention, before your eyes traveled to his biceps, displayed in full force with the way he hunched over the handlebars. You desperately tried to hide it, but your breath was stuck in your throat, your heart jumping at the view.

He was ridiculously attractive, and this wasn’t like that. He’d made it clear, and you— you’d just got out of a messed up relationship. You didn’t need this. And yet—

“Come here, will you? I promise I won't bite.”

Of all things, this was bad in a completely different, yet just as torturous way. You still did it anyway; you passed your leg over the seat, you put your arms around his muscled body, leaning into him, and if your nose caught his burning scent or the berry flavor of his candy you told your silly heart to suck it up and turned your cheek. But ignoring it was futile—there was this intense sizzling between you, and it’d be a flat out lie to say he didn’t feel it, because at every red light, every all-way stop and traffic junction he squirmed and cleared his throat in a manner men only do when they’re rock hard and in need of relief.

“We’re not too far now,” he spoke after a while, taking a left turn and readjusting your hold with one of his hands. His long fingers were cold but sure in their touch. “You okay?” His head turned to show his profile, the soft, dark curls bouncing in the wind, and what was the question again?

“It’s a nice night,” you comment, not able to form any other coherent sentence.

He nods, and takes off again, this time speeding down the road, making passes on cars, taking yellow’s, and never once looking back after that. The sky was pitch black, not a star in the city, and most businesses’ had closed for the day, leaving gas stations and fast food places all on their own, though even those were sparse and far between wherever you were going. There had been a moment, though small, where you doubted his intentions, doubted these people and their words. But these people were Minho’s people, and there was never any doubt about him.

You really wished you had taken your phone with you. It seemed like a good thing to have in a situation like this. The thought of where it is, or rather whom it’s with, made your skin crawl, and your mind wander. What was Johnny doing right now? Had he left the apartment already?

Staring at a spot on Changbin’s vest, you realized he’d just entered a parking lot, a motel named ‘Starlight’ coming into focus, its teal color and neon letters hard to miss. He killed the engine and waited for you to get off, before demounting himself. You lingered a bit as he adjusted the stand of the bike, and cracked his neck. Thin black ink ran down the side of it, lightning or veins, you couldn’t quite make it out from your distance, but before you could analyze it further, he motioned for you to follow him, extending a hand and recognizing what he’s doing.

Your eyes met as his jaw clenched, and his arm fell. It felt like intuition or will, and he was rejecting it all. You should’ve felt glad he was repressing himself, but all you felt instead was empty. You shouldn’t want this, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s just being nice. He’s just being kind. And it was those things, but it was something else, something that was neither your fault nor his; attraction, maybe, or just the simple fact that he felt like the calm sea, enveloping you with the promise of peace. And freedom—he set you free. Call it naivety, and perhaps it was.

You didn’t care.

That was your second mistake.

“It’s not much, but Bang’s family has owned this place for forty years,” he explained to you as he greeted the older man at the reception desk, and got the key that opened ‘Room 103.’

You climbed the rusty metal staircase to the first floor, and followed him closely as he passed the rooms by, all the way until the end of the hall. The breeze was colder up there, but you could spot a tiny star or two. You were far, so much farther that you’ve been in years, and it felt good. Nothing for miles, no one close to you to know where you were, to look for you. No one that cared enough, anyway.

“You won’t kill me, right?” you ask almost absentmindedly, the sky too mysterious, too beautiful to look away.

Changbin unlocked the door and chuckled to himself, forcing his head not to turn your way.

“Not if you behave,” he couldn’t help the suggestive tone, though. “I’m kidding, sweetheart,” he softened up and quickly added when he heard your breath catching in your throat.

He stepped aside to let you walk in the room you’ll be spending the night in, and hesitated to trail behind you. A lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls. His dick was so hard it was painful to walk, and there was no excuse for it. He was awful, but there was no intention to go through with anything. He’d bid you goodnight, leave his phone number on the nightstand, and walk out. That’s how it should happen, and that’s how it will happen. You’d been through enough, it was clear to see.

Changbin was not going to force his own bullshit life on you.

“In case of anything you can call me immediately. I’ll answer,” he told you as you sat on the bed and fingered the phone’s cable. “If you want me to go get your stuff, say the word,” he added, sensing your uneasiness.

Your chest expanded and your lips curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in any more trouble, Changbin. This is enough. Thank you.”

The bouncer shook his head, furrowing his brows in refutation. “You haven’t put me through anything, sweet thing. Let me do that for you, yeah? I’ve dealt with many assholes in my life.”

“Don’t you have to go home? It’s late, I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

“Don’t have one,” he cut you off, and smiled faintly to relieve the tension his words carried. “Tell me where yours is, I want to make tonight easier for you.”

You couldn’t help the pregnant pause after that. Your mind ran, the simple fact that he’d told you something so personal like it was nothing festering into a million different thoughts, all ending with the same question mark. Where did he live, then? At the club? Not possible, right? Then, where? Would he want to spend the night there, with you? You had nothing, even this much was borrowed, but perhaps he could share it with you. If it was allowed. You knew it was risky, and that you couldn’t ignore this for long.

It’d be wiser if he left now and came later when you were asleep. You had to remind yourself this was temporary. If you were to engage in these feelings, they’d take you somewhere you’d have to deal with for way longer than a couple of nights, and you weren’t sure that was a good thing.

He looked like he was thinking the same thing.

The tattoo on his neck was definitely lightning striking, the black of it creeping before cracking down on him, and disappearing underneath his collar—underneath. You wanted to see, run your fingers on it, figure out where it reached. It wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t sane.

But you wanted to, nevertheless. It was a hungry want, an inevitable want. If it didn’t happen right now, it would happen someday, soon, as soon as you both stopped fighting it, a primal instinct. It was because of how he looked and what he’d done for you, how freedom would now seem like a raspberry lollipop and a smooth gun.

“I need to go,” he said, his eyes flitting from yours, body turning away. “I need to go before I do something I regret.”

His pleading tone tugged at you. You put your tongue between your teeth so you wouldn’t respond. He’ll go bring you your clothes and your phone, and he’s going to leave you alone. You ran it over three times in your mind, before it sounded convincing enough to go with.

“You can stay,” you manage to get out, and then you realize it doesn’t sound right. “After, I mean. If there’s nowhere else to go.”

Despite his best intentions, Changbin can’t help but melt at your words. Bless your heart, sweet thing. I was right to help you.

“I’ve had my fair share of Starlight nights, sweetheart. I’m sure you need your privacy,” he leaned by the dresser to write something on the pad by the TV. “You don’t gotta worry about me, yeah?”

It still didn’t feel right with you. “Thank you can’t possibly be enough.”

With a hand opening the door wider, he gave you one last smile and a quick wink, before popping the lollipop back in his mouth.

“It’s enough for me. I’ll be right back.”

Babel is playing on TV, a half forgotten movie about people on vacation, but you can’t even bring yourself to focus on the actors’ faces, much less their words. One line sticks out to you then, ‘Why did we come here?’ but before the weight of it registers, you swing the door wide open, throwing yourself out into the cold night.

The roaring sound that drove you away from your old life. That unique black paint on an expensive, vintage motorcycle you couldn’t stop thinking about. You’d never been on a bike before, had never trusted anyone enough to get near one. It had surprised you; how easily you trusted Changbin, how blindly you followed him into fields of darkness. He could’ve turned out dangerous—he could’ve threatened you. Any sane person would’ve kept their distance, assessed the situation, and gone home. A boring, uneventful life is a life nonetheless. There were bad parts, sure; decisions that were made that could’ve been prevented, people that took advantage of your kindness, but overall—it was fine, it was manageable.

Somehow, you refused to acknowledge the abuse, even then. You protected the part of you that wanted to deny, that wanted to go home and forget about it all. Johnny told you, though, he did—“no one’s coming for you, no one.” Meaning you’re unwanted, meaning you never mattered anyway, silly girl, and what are you talking about? You’ve no home, no returning.

The black-haired man carried a duffel bag across his torso, keys jingling between his fingers. You’d been smothering in that strange room, inked paper on the nightstand, fingers pressing on the digits again, and again, and again. Dialing, then putting the receiver down, a game with no winner. A phone call away, he’d said, but it’d been three tortuous hours and he’d been nowhere to be found. You were stranded in a motel outside of town, no way to escape. Your mind ran, and it ran fast, so to see him walking towards you, to witness him staying true to his word, when no other man had been able to, when nothing was for certain, and fear crept like an ocean wave—it shocked you; shook you, hand over mouth, feet pulling you back to the confines of that space he left you in, door left ajar, only so your lungs could fill with sharp wind, with bright stars peeking their way through.

Changbin was hurt. You saw that, too. He will come to you, face swollen, and you’ll deny, deny, deny.

Because that could’ve been you. Because it would’ve been bad for real, and you will never, ever admit that to yourself. Because that game did have winners and losers, and you were so obviously losing, every.single.fucking.time.

Your love had been a bad love. You don’t blame this man for condemning you.

“Sweet girl?” His voice is rough.

He pushes the thing separating you, and there it is—a cut above his brow, an angry gash on his cheek that will bruise later—you knew this, you did—blood on his white sleeve, scratched up knuckles. You’ve learned to look for the injuries first, but when did that start? Since when have you been covering, hiding, alert, so very sensitive to your own body, to reds and blues and purples?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The only thing you can say— “I’m so sorry,” head low, quivering.

Changbin finds you on the bed, a reprimanded child, and stares. He looks an ugly sight, that much he knows, but it had nothing to do with you, everything to do with the motherfucker that got to call you his. That apartment had been a mess, beer cans everywhere, smashed picture frames and mirrors—it hadn’t come easy, losing you, it was clear to see, but your ex boyfriend wouldn’t give you up without a fight, and it was far from over.

Still, the bouncer pushed through the door frame, and searched for your belongings. Landed a good punch or two, missed a few, knocked out some teeth. He’d dealt with monsters before, and he wishes he could truly tell you what he’d meant, why he said it. Not much scared him anymore, nothing stopped him. If you have nothing to live for, you go all in. Every moment matters, yet doesn’t at all. An avalanche, a landslide. A suicide mission.

Changbin had seen war, and had returned from it. Retrieving a phone was childsplay to him.

He nears you, drops the bag with your stuff right next to you on the mattress. He crouches in front of you, and despite himself—he grabs your hands. How devastating it is—to know you’re going to lose your heart. How thrilling. He searches for the pretty eyes that looked at him back at the bar. He wants to talk to the girl he freed, the girl that offered what was offered to her.

The selfless one.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he consoles you tenderly. “Did a good deed for a girl that’s worth it. No tears, yeah?” Your tongue comes out to wet your petal lips, and you meet his gaze. He smiles at you, masking the wince it elicits out of him. He wants to keep smiling for you, nevermind the ache, nevermind the effort.

“You should see the other guy.”

You laugh at that, still half crying, and Changbin can’t help it, doesn’t want to. He wipes the tears away, cradles your face in his big hand. You’re so warm under his touch, so beautiful. He wants to do everything for you, wants to stay beside you as you tackle life. But he’s got nothing to provide, even less to his name—he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t think anyone does. You’ve been through a lot, your sadness tells him. It ripples through his chest, tightens his gut. He’ll stay if you keep him around, though.

He’ll stay, aware of what he can’t have. He sees himself in you, strangely.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, afraid to touch the liquid fire blazing on his features. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He thinks to tell you he can’t really feel pain, not anymore, but you don’t seem ready for that. Instead, he shakes his head, deflects. He reaches for the bag of food, and doesn’t tell you about the nasty stares he got from the people at the overnight deli, either. They don’t know him, they only see what they want to see. Chan taught him that. And fuck them, anyway—that was Seungmin.

“Eat something. Try to get some sleep,” he balances himself on his boots. “Your phone is in there,” he nods at the bigger bag. Misses your skin on his. “Is there— What else can I do for you, sweetheart?”

He’ll never forget the way you looked at him then. For the remainder of his days.

Someone who could care for him, like his brothers, but a girl. You. His own girl. He’d seen the others, how easy it’d been for them. Destiny, or fucking love at first sight, that bitch. He saw and waited patiently for his turn, fists clenched, teeth gritted. The possibility knocks at his heart, beats at his scalp. It could be anyone, but it’s you, he’s sure of it. Until you, there’d been no one, no real prospect. He knows this by how much he wants to stay, by how your fingers felt on his own, how your eyes melted into his. There was attraction on both ends, yes, but he was in no rush.

No rush, and yet one touch from you—

“Where are you gonna go?” You don’t make a move to check your phone, or even make sure Changbin had picked up the right clothes. You just stare at the bloody spot on his shirt, and plead for this to happen.

The amount of self restraint he possesses surprises him. He curses it.

“I’ll figure it out. That’s what I do.”

“Stay.”

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out of him. It’s ironic, really; he would kill to spend the night with you, and there’s no reason why he can’t, except you’ve been hurt so fucking deep, the scars are visible to him without even being there, and how is that even possible. He knows because they mark every part of him, similar ones, and they never heal. They just remain open, gushing, pouring out, and what else can he do but repudiate their existence—it’s haunted him for years.

He’s ashamed of his own homelessness now. Embarrassed of what he’s done, how it’s cost him, how it’ll continue to do so, unless he makes a choice. The choice. But how to take your own life?

“You and I both know how that’ll end, sweet thing.”

You’re a dream; you blink, and then you’re moving, up and closer, hand reaching out, attempting to grab, to hold onto, to insist. You’re stubborn, of course you are. There’s a flame in you he likes. You know how to survive, yet your softness is intact. He wishes he could say the same thing. He wishes he could hold you with no hesitation, no doubt in his mind.

But Seo Changbin ruins things, and he does so knowingly, despite himself always. Especially pretty girls like you, girls that don’t know any better. He’s seen it happen, he’s terrified of it happening again.

“It doesn’t have to,” you say, and he desperately wants to believe it. He’ll even wrap his hand around yours, pretend for a moment or two. “It’s just sleep. You’ve done so much for me. Please.”

He sighs, hates himself for falling into your words only because they sound sweet to his ears. He knows you’re wrong, knows his nature, knows what’s taken place in this very room many times before, and even then, even fucking then—

There’s no shame in him, truly.

“Sweetheart…” he studies your face, memorizes the creases, the lines, the smoothness of your cheeks. “You need someone that can take you home. Someone to take care of you good.”

“You did. You have.”

“I’m crooked. You don’t know what I’ve done… what I’m capable of.”

“I trust you,” you press on, squeezing his fingers, and it’s because of that gesture that he caves.

His lips curve sideways, and he’s itching for candy again. Your words are bitter, are syrupy, and clean, ambrosial. It’ll sting like a bitch when you leave, when you find out the truth. ‘Cause you will, sooner or later. You’ll have to.

Changbin nods, admitting defeat to humor you. “You impossible fucking girl. Fine. A compromise, then.”

You’re elated. You’re glad he’ll be safe, at least for tonight. The least you can do for him.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he states, putting some space between you again, and pushing curly hair away from his face. “But you gotta promise me right now that you’re going to eat.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I promise.”

His voice drops, then. “And that you’re never going back to him. Or to that apartment. Hell, I’ll find you a job, one where he can’t fucking find you,” his jaw clenches, hands busying themselves with the blankets, throwing them on the bed, anything to release the tension building up. “I’m never letting that son of a bitch near you again.”

“He’ll sure as fuck be damned if he ever steps foot on Route, I can swear that.”

It felt strange to think yourself separate from Johnny. To think you could exist without him and him without you. The bad was there, but there’d been good too, once. It never outweighed and it didn’t matter, anyway, it’d settle in your brain someday, but your heart felt uneasy just by the mention of him. You’d spend so much time convincing yourself you weren’t a victim, that you forgot to see it for what it was—a codependent, extremely toxic environment.

You had to remind yourself that the bruises on your side were still real, and that they would take at least a couple weeks to disappear. For some reason, you hoped Changbin would never see them.

You hoped he would kiss all of them better, away.

Changbin had you shower, and change, staying outside the door the entire time, staring directly at your face and nowhere else. He supervised as you ate, and tucked you into bed after you’d brushed your teeth. No one had done any of this for you before, and you kept trying to communicate that to him. He’s plenty capable of taking care of you, of anyone that comes his way; he’s generous, he owns a heart that beats, that bleeds. That’s more than some people can claim, certainly more than what you’ve encountered, and for that you’ll never forget him, no matter if he decides to keep away from you, to land you softly on your feet and disappear without a trace afterwards.

He changed you, in some way, and that will always belong to him. How many people can say that?

There were dark circles forming around his brown eyes, wrinkles on his previously perfectly pressed button down. The tie around his neck was coming loose, like he’d tugged at it a few times already. This man had really fought for your honor tonight. He fought for you like one would for his own country; for freedom, for release. For prideful reasons, and yet so utterly selfless in the act. It was all for you.

But what did he get out of the deal? A transaction had yet to be made. You wanted to give something in return. Even as he turned off the lights, and lowered the volume on the TV, even as he made sure all windows in the small room were locked, you thought and thought. What could he want? What was missing from his life? You wanted to learn more about him. Sleep was not of essence at that point.

Knowing him was.

“How did you meet Bang Chan?”

Changbin lifted his head, a mass of muscle sitting on a tiny chair in the corner, a figure hard to miss, demanding to be acknowledged, to be seen. He held his phone in one hand, the bright screen illuminating part of his rugged face. Who was he texting? Is there anyone waiting for him, somewhere? The knot in your stomach turned and turned. You kept him here without thinking, too blinded by your own feelings.

“That’s a complicated question to answer,” he said a few moments later. You couldn’t make out his expression, but his tone sounded clipped. “He found me, or I found him. We’re both high school dropouts. I was working on cars, bikes, just any… thing, really, trying to get by, and one day he came by looking for a job. Shit happened,” he chuckled at that, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, a lot of shit happened. And five years later, here we are.”

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me.”

“Because I saved you the bullshit middle that no one wants to fucking hear, or remember.”

You clasped your mouth shut, immediately turning apologetic. You didn’t mean to assume, only to figure out. He seemed to sense your silence, its reason, and you heard him exhale through his nose in mirroring remorse, saw him lean forward on his forearms.

“I’m sorry, sweet thing,” he half whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, let his voice wash over you in the silence. “I’m sorry, too.” For this. For things you had no control over that happened to him. For things that will continue to happen.

“Ask me more.” An invitation.

You obliged. “And Minho?”

“At the bar. He was the first person Chan hired.”

“How old are you?”

There was a ghost of a smile in his gruff voice now. “Twenty-seven.”

Your heart fluttered. You put a hand over your chest, above the blankets, hoping, wishing your breathing would even out, your thighs would stop pressing against each other. He said nothing, spoke only when prompted, when so many quiet things ran between you, muttering, electricity through a cable, buzzing, excited, dangerous, eager.

“Changbin…”

A pause. “Sweetheart.”

“Do you— Do you like me?”

Another exhale. Inhale. He looked ready to pounce. To run for the hills. You focused on his face.

“More than I should,” he replied honestly. “More than I’m allowed to.”

Your eyes involuntarily closed again, the tension thick, hovering above you like a cloud full of rain. You wanted it to pour, to smash down on you, to crack you open and overflow you.

You wanted him to come closer. To stay forever.

“I allow you,” you murmur. “There’s nothing holding you back.”

Another one of those signature breathy laughs of his you’d grown to want more of. They stretched his handsome face, widened his molasses eyes. This man didn’t laugh a whole lot, that much was obvious. But when he did—God, was it a sight to behold.

“That may be so, darling,” he mutters hoarsely. “I’m holding myself back. You don’t want to deal with the shitshow that comes with me, and I’d never put you through it for the sake of having you.”

A heartbreaking realization. Perhaps you heard wrong. Tears swell up, chest heavy. You beg for sleep now.

“I’m not worth it,” you assume bitterly.

He taps his boot on the carpeted floor. He’s impatient, a bird taking flight. You truly meant it. You’re not holding him back; nothing is.

“Because you’re worth it,” he croaks, voice full of something you can’t quite pinpoint. “Because you’re laying there, so fucking close, and I can’t touch you. I’m afraid to even get near you.”

You swallow, throat dry, all choked up. What does it mean, that you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you wanted this strange man? What does it mean that you had to come out to the desert to find out?

“Why don’t you have a home?”

Changbin springs up, carrying a terrifying purpose in his stance. He’s going to walk out, he’s going to leave, and it’ll all be your fault. You’ve cornered a lion, and it will show you its teeth.

The truth is he’s suffocating. Jesus Christ, he’s never felt this before in his entire goddamned life.

“I burned it down.”

And no matter what he does, he can’t not want.

He’s out the door the next, phone on speed dial, pressed against his ear.

Minho answers a beat before voicemail. His voice is unassuming, a little drunk, a little slurred. The bouncer leans his temple against the cool of the wall, listening to the wind brush past mountains, past roofs and rock and still awakening man-made trees, and he wonders how helping has ever worked in his favor.

How he does it regardless, all knowing. This has been the worst one yet; worse than revenge, worse than faking your own death. His heart was involved this time. This thing he never compromises, this thing he forgets that exists sometimes, bigger and more fervent than ever.

It came back to bite him in the ass, full force.

“Can’t I have one single fucking day to myself, Bin, what is it now—”

“Take her. I beg you—take her.”

There was background noise on the receiving end. Perhaps he was in one of those parties of his again, the ones Seungmin warned him against. Changbin had no use for caution, no reason why he should be scared. What the bartender was into—he had no interest in it, could care less for it, unless Minho was having a hard time there. Besides that, he had enough to worry about, enough on his plate. Always on the brink of overflowing, yet never quite.

This was different. This was the almost that could tilt it all over.

“Take who, Changbin? Are you drunk, too?” His friend laughs, he knows nothing. He didn’t answer his phone to Chan.

“(Y/N). She came to Route with her boyfriend. All Hell broke loose, so I brought her to Starlight.”

“You’re fucking serious.”

Changbin rolled on his back, fist against his mouth, staring up at the night sky, at the stars you were so transfixed by. They had no reason being so bright; of reminding him of innocent eyes, and rose petal lips. He searched in his pocket for a lollipop, unwrapping it with his teeth. Cherry flavored, the color of your cheeks getting out of that shower.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he’d accidentally caught a glimpse of your legs, those silky things that carried the rest of you. He wanted to wrap them around his neck, he wanted to run his hands up and down the length of them, feel the skin there, and up, up, up, to your cunt, to your fucking soul—

“I don’t know what to do with her, Minho. With myself. I’d never seen her before, I never thought—”

“You said Starlight, right? I’ll be right there. Give me about forty minutes.”

“Don’t— Fuck, don’t really take her, Min, yeah? I just… I need you, man. She needs you, too, I think.”

His friend the problem solver. Similar to Bang Chan, but different in texture. Where the owner was rough leather, the bartender was velvety soft, safe to fall on. With Chan you never knew, it was calculated, it was for the Greater Good, it was give and take. You called Minho, he’d rush over, scold you later.

“I’m fairly sure she’s in good hands, Bin. Keep an eye out, yeah? You’re dealing with the Sharks now.”

He saw that. The tattoo on your ex’s neck. Chan knows how to deal with those better, no bloodshed, no mourning. Changbin just keeps them out, turns them away. If they don’t listen, words don’t matter to him, they don’t count. He’s got a shiny gun under his vest for that. It’s best you never find out, that you never know.

But you will. That’s inevitable, too.

He popped the candy in his mouth and waited. Johnny, was it? His threat rang in the bouncer’s head, shit he’s heard a million times before. Only thing was before he had nothing to lose. Now, he has you. He found you or you found him, that’s how people enter his life, so what? Why the fuck would he give you up? Changbin has killed for his chosen family.

What’s once more? No motherfucker is immortal, himself included.

Only difference is that Seo Changbin doesn’t legally exist anymore. He’s dead. Nothing more than a goddamn ghost.

He won’t dare go back in your room, not without Minho. Your friend will know how to handle you, this, how to better—properly—take care of you. If anything, you’ll choose to go with him, stay over at his place for the time being. Changbin will still trail after you like a surveillance shadow, recording all your steps, memorizing the movements that make you, your nose scrunches, your gentle hip swings. You move like water where he’s nothing but fire. He can only be put out by you, can only diminish himself, evaporate on contact.

None of it changes the way he feels about you.

He’s not sure how long he stayed out there, awaiting the familiar sound of the MotoTec Cali the bartender owned, but he saw it before he heard it, his thoughts too loud, overwhelming every one of his senses. Minho pulled up next to his own Davidson, taking off his helmet and kicking the stand in place. The motel’s sign shone brightly against his pale complexion, and it took his friend a couple of seconds to make out Changbin’s figure on the balcony, leaned over the railing, candy sticking out of his mouth like usual.

“About fucking time,” the black-haired man muttered under his breath.

“Talking shit?” Minho joked loudly, and climbed the stairs. He was obviously tipsy.

“I’m just glad you made it in one piece, Lee.”

Minho’s face was glowing, but his eyes were dilated, worried. He glanced towards the door, and then back at his friend, at his injured state, assessing the situation.

“Me too,” he agreed, before growing serious. “Is she okay?”

Changbin nodded. “She’s fine, he didn’t hurt her.” He took the lollipop out of his mouth, lip stinging. “He pulled a number on me, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. Johnny owns a boxing gym. Don’t underestimate him.”

The bouncer scoffed, spitting on the ground, a piece of his mind on what he thought about that. “He’s a bitch I left moaning on the floor. I got a few of her things from her place,” he neared his friend, lowering his tone, “I’m not— I don’t want her going back there, Minho. Chan let her stay here for the weekend, but you… can you take her in? Until I find her some place nice?”

The burgundy-haired man furrowed his brows, tilting his head in question. “You’re going to find her a place? What’s it to you?”

“Fuck you.”

Minho smirked, and patted his friend on the back, quietly opening the door. “You better keep her close, Seo Changbin, eh? She’s precious to me.”

You were asleep, hidden under a pile of blankets, stirring momentarily only to turn.

The two men looked at each other, then looked back at you. Should they wake you? Best to let you rest. Minho needed to talk to you, though, despite the bouncer’s disapproval, followed by a backhanded slap on the sternum. They went at it soundlessly, before Changbin shook his head and pointed an accusatory finger the older’s way.

Minho sat by you, fingers tangling in your hair fondly, caressing your head. You hummed, not all there. He tried again, this time shaking you softly, hoping your eyes would open just enough to recognize him.

They did.

“Minho?” You mumbled, unsure.

“It’s me, pet. Wake up for me, will you?”

You sat up abruptly, rubbing at your eyes. Changbin glared at his friend, arms folded over his massive chest, leaning against the window broodingly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, but wrap your arms around him anyway.

He hugs you back tight, breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. “Bin called me. I got worried.”

“I…” you look at the man by the door. His expression softens upon noticing your stare. “I’m okay, Min, I… I left him. I did it. Changbin helped me.”

Minho smiled encouragingly, pulling back just a bit to look into your eyes. “Did he now? I’m so fucking glad, pet, that’s great news.”

You nodded, but your lips curved downwards, concern spreading across your features. “But it’s not, really, is it? Johnny’s vengeful, he… well, you see what he did,” you turned towards your battered savior once again, biting on your lip thoughtfully. “I don’t want him coming after you, I don’t—”

Minho shushed you, bringing you into his arms, hand rubbing on your back soothingly. “Trust me, baby, we can take care of ourselves. We deal with people like him more often than you’d think.”

“Don’t we, Changbin?”

The bouncer said nothing, but the smirk on his face was in full effect. His gaze ran down your soft cheeks, to your exposed neck, to the shirt falling off your shoulder, and he felt his blood boiling, his dick getting hard all over again at the mere sight. Cursed to know, but unable to follow through, his body betraying him…

Heaven and Hell were teaming up against him in the form of you; the sweetest thing he’s ever come across, the only thing that could genuinely threaten his very existence.

“He’s going to take you to work tomorrow, okay? Let me make some arrangements, and I’ll come for you Monday. You can stay with me for as long as you’d like.”

His heart shouldn’t have stopped the way it did when your eyes snapped to meet his, full of surprise, questioning, scared. You thought he was getting rid of you; that you’d been a burden to him, and he was gladly wiping you off his hands and onto Minho’s. Couldn’t be fucking further from the truth, but how was he supposed to voice those words?

I’d put you in my pocket if I could. I’d fucking carry you on my shoulders, if it meant I’d be able to keep you. Fuck his damned heart, his sappy brain. Truth of the matter was—you’re his girl now. A dead man claimed you, and once that happens, everything acquires meaning, everything matters.

He’d have to live vicariously.

“Thank you,” you said, and that was that. You were disappointed, your lids heavy with sorrow, and Changbin would have to talk to you, he’d have to explain.

He couldn’t bear seeing you this way. Not when he first laid eyes on you, not now that he knows what that stirring in his chest meant. Your sadness wrapped around his throat like a chain, squeezing, choking.

Minho noticed the tension between you, felt it in his bones. He couldn’t quite understand how the two of you came to be so close in the few hours you’ve known each other, but he won’t pretend to know how a heart works, its inner secrets, the way it just seems to pick and keep picking. He rises from the bed, leaning to kiss your forehead, and he thumbs your chin, smiling down at you one last time.

“Get some rest. You’ve nothing to worry about, you’re cared for.”

You nod only so he won’t insist, and with that he turns to leave. Changbin passes an arm over his shoulder in goodbye, but his eyes never leave your frame. You’re curling into yourself, blanket over your body, trying to shrink, to make yourself smaller so as to not take as much space, so as to not become too much of a responsibility.

He was getting angry for you. Angry that this seemed to be a familiar practice for you, a trauma response. He wanted to beat that fucker’s face in, gauge his eyes out, tear his arms off. Murder came easy, but this? What he was fantasizing about?

You had to be a specific kind of fucked up to do that, and Changbin has never claimed to be a good person. He was the man you went for for your dirty work, the gruesome stuff, the things no normal person could handle. He did it if it was right, if the intention behind it was justifiable. Scum was meant to be cleaned off, and people like Johnny were just that. A smudge on his bike. Dirt under his shoe.

“Keep me updated,” Minho tells his friend, and waves at you, before the door closes and you’re left alone.

You don’t speak.

Neither does Changbin. Not at first.

But your being angry with him? He decides he doesn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

“You understand why you can’t come with me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You lay back down, turning away from him.

“I understand.” Soft, weak.

He cracks, scatters to reach you, to not let you slip through his fingers. He wants your eyes on his again. He wants your naked shoulder, the curve of your face imprinting on his palm. He realizes, violently, that he needs you. That if he doesn’t have you he’ll go fucking crazy, insane, absolutely ballistic. The pull you have on him is too strong, the attraction too big, the feeling so intense it makes him want to tug at his hair and scream at the world for shunning him.

You don’t need more than a few hours to fall in love, it turns out. A girl can smile at you and that’s…it—you’re done for the rest of your life, now. No one had warned him about that, but he had witnessed it. In the way Seungmin looks over at the bar, even when the door is closed, like he can see right through it. How Chan doesn’t seem a separate person from that woman; how when she’s around, he’s alert, astute, awake to everything.

Fuck him to Hell, he should’ve paid attention. They don’t call it Route 66 for no reason, he’s sure of that now.

“Don’t make me say it, (Y/N),” your name on his lips sounded important, sounded real. He whispered it again in hopes you’d look at him again, in hopes he’d get to hold your hand once more. “You don’t want someone like me, you don’t need this… Minho knows you better, he’ll—fuck,” he pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, suddenly exhausted. “You’ll be okay there. I won’t have to worry.”

For a while, you left him alone with his words echoing back to him. It scared the shit out of him, how terrified he was of never seeing you again, how each passing second of your silence sliced through him like a knife.

Then, you mercied him. You spoke.

“I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. You’ve done so much for me, and I’m incredibly indebted to you, Changbin,” you kept that same tone from before, and he had half a mind to forcibly turn you, to swoop you in his arms and never let go.

“I just don’t know how to shut my heart to you. I don’t know why it’s telling me to stay, why it’s pointing to you so desperately…”

He did it, then. Passed his arms right under you and brought you close to him, closing the gap that’s been eating him alive. You gasped, hands clasped against your chest, and looked at him, looked at him, looked at him. He drank you in, nose nuzzled against your neck, taking every inch of you in, strong arms tightening around you, lips on your skin.

Lips on your skin. He groaned, and dug his face at the nape of you, ashamed of his weakness, afraid of his inability to control himself. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away. But you… he had no defenses left. He should’ve left when he had the choice.

There’s no choice now.

“The things I want to do to you, sweet thing…” he gravelly muttered. “I’ve been lonely my whole fucking life. I never expected to find you, a thing like you. A girl for me, just for me…” One of his hands traveled up to your cheek, keeping it there, your body fully placed on his lap now. You were consumed, engulfed in flames you had no intention of extinguishing. “Do you feel how hard I am for you, darling?”

His hot breath fanned across your face, raising goosebumps. You nodded, mind jumbled, words long gone. “Yes,” you managed out. “Yes.”

“You think I’m nice,” he continued, his deep voice reverberating through you. “You think so highly of me, don’t you?” He turned your face so his mouth can face yours, with every thought of kissing you, of tasting you. “Give me permission. Tell me I can,” he whispered, eyes flickering, pitch black with desire.

You whimpered, tears stinging. “You can,” you exclaimed. “Please—”

Changbin devoured you. He grabbed your face roughly, fingers bruising in the best way, and attacked your mouth, tongue pushing past your red lips, conquering, spreading like wildfire. You felt dizzy, able only to hold onto him for dear life, and he held back just as unyielding, a solid body against yours, moving with you.

He came back up for a breath, a drowning man at sea. He swept some hair away from your beautiful face, and stared at your swollen lips, the way they called out to him, but he’d already gone too far. There was nothing more left to do but drown, and just as well. Changbin never much cared for living anyway, he’d gladly die for this.

“What am I gonna do with you, sweetheart, hm?” he tore off the blankets, shamelessly running his gaze down your body, your curves, all the ways you could bend. His cock twitched in his pants, restrained, in need of attention. He wanted you wretchedly, hopelessly.

“Half of me wants to tear you apart, the other half wants to tuck you into bed and leave you alone…” he trailed off, licking his lips, thirsty for anything you would give him. “I know right from wrong, I know this’ll be so fucking wrong—tell me to leave you alone. Tell me to stop, baby.”

You said nothing. He inhaled, steadying himself. He had to get a grip, fast. He was losing his entire fucking sense, his mind. He didn’t want it to be like this, not with you, not here. But you were so soft, you smelled so good, felt so good, your skin warm, his heart beating against yours. It had been so hard to resist you, so hard to pretend… Changbin had never been good at lying, always going after what he wanted.

Habits were hard to break.

“You need to stop this, beautiful, I have no strength, I always fuck everything up,” he rasped, fingers creeping under your shirt already, finding their way up to your breasts—so plump, perfectly fitted for his hand, God, he was so full of you, and how to quit you now, there was no way, no fucking way—

“Don’t,” you whisper to him, and kiss his jaw, the faintest peck. “I want this, Changbin.”

“But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” you fight back defensively. “I care about what you did for me, and that was everything. It’s everything.”

He’d never even realized how much he’d been suffering with the weight of his actions. It all came crashing down on him now, all because you were on the verge of unlocking him, of getting as close as possible, and what if he poisoned you? What if he infected you with the shit he’d committed, with the terrible fucking crimes that followed him everywhere?

Not you. Not to you.

“I’ve killed people, sweetheart. I’ve buried them with my own two hands.”

Not the earth shattering, ground splitting, apocalypse inducing revelation he was expecting it to be. And perhaps, somehow, it wasn’t. Because he was telling it to you, the girl made for him, the girl put on this earth for him to find, his girl. And his girl would understand, because she’d see right through it. He hoped she would.

He was right.

“Why?” was the only thing you asked.

So, he told you. He figured might as well lay it all down for you to do as you like. If you hated him and never wanted anything to do with him after it, he’d have to suck it up and live with it. He’d still do as he promised, that wouldn’t change. He would protect you with his life, he was obligated to now.

“Some asshole did a hit-and-run on our friend Felix a couple years back. It left him paralyzed from the waist down. Chan swore to find the guy who did it, to make him pay,” Changbin held you close as he spoke, afraid if he let go you might run off. “I took it personally. I hunted the fucker down, destroyed his car—you don’t need to hear the rest. I knew it’d be a lifetime in jail for me, there was no saving grace if they found me.

“So, I died. I faked my own death, burned the house I’d just bought down. Chan held a funeral for me, with a fake body, a fake death certificate… My family thinks I’m dead,” he chuckled, against his better judgment. This was no time for laughing. “They think their son is dead. Their son is a fucking murderer.”

The last thing he expected—you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his vest, gun heavy in its holster, a concealed weapon he’s had to carry ever since he started working at Route, a thing that binds him to the Devil, a thing that has nothing to do with you, that shouldn’t even belong in your world.

Changbin was rendered speechless.

“I don’t care,” you choked out. “You’re a good person that did a terrible thing, and I will never hold it against you. If you’re trying to scare me away, it’s not going to work, Changbin. I dated a killer for most of my adult years.”

“And you want to live with a new one?”

You slapped him. He let you, because he deserved it, but grabbed your wrist afterwards, fiery gaze meeting yours. It was a low blow, a punch to your character, and he regretted it immensely. He just couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Please see this. Please understand why I shouldn’t be the one for you. I never had to be careful with my words, I’ve never cared this much for anyone.

It didn’t matter. You were the one to kiss him this time, hard and bravely.

You kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and your lips, your soft lips—they were sending him straight to Hell, six feet under and worse, to where he can never find his way out, to where he’d eternally be unable to crawl out. He didn’t need a prophecy for this, didn’t need to navigate through a game to get the girl.

He just had to look into her eyes, learn her name. Make her stay.

Changbin wishes he could say he knew how to be gentle, how to blossom under your hand, open up to your touch. His inexperience messed with him, angered him; he was supposed to treat you differently, he was supposed to take care of you, he’d promised. But you drove him crazy, your every move sliced him, dug into his ribcage and turned.

Call it an old habit. Or self preservation.

He wanted to see you. All of you. And then he wanted to be the one doing the turning, the slicing.

“You want this?” he breathed down your throat, pulling your head back by your hair. You had a beauty mark just under your ear. He wished to kiss it, wished to lick it. Take it as his.

Your mouth opened, your heartbeat irregular.

“There’s no going back if we do this, sweetheart,” he stated menacingly. “I’m not an easy man—I will burn myself to the fucking ground for you.”

None of it was painless to say. Every second near you required a considerable amount of effort. His own personal Odyssey.

“Changbin…” Pleading. For him. For what you want him to give you.

“No,” he growled, pressing his body on yours. “You need to know this. You need to know what you’re getting into. I don’t get sweet things like you in my life, I have no fucking clue how to deal with something good like you, and it sure as Hell won’t be easy letting go of you, if you choose to leave. Do you understand, (Y/N)? Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

You whimper, completely surrendered to him, and he can almost smell your wetness, your desire for him. He thrusts his erection against your hip, and breathes deeply through his nostrils, nothing but softness, nothing but heat radiating from you. That’s for him, too. Goddamn it all.

“I’ve never had someone like you before, either,” you confess softly, your eyes wet.

Changbin wastes no time, then. He grabs you by the waist and turns you to sit on him straight, eyes boring into yours, legs on either side of him. You steady yourself on his shoulders, lashes fluttering, mouth swollen. He digs his nails on the soft skin, then drags his hands downwards to your dips, your ass. You inhale sharply, your hips unconsciously rubbing against his growing bulge.

“Show me how you like it,” he mumbles, drawing circles above your pajama bottoms. “Show me what to do, darling.”

Biting your lip, you reluctantly grab one of his big hands, and guide it to your breast. He feels your hard nipple through the thin material, wants it between his lips, his tongue sucking—he wants you in his mouth like his favorite lollipops. Wanted to switch the candy for you. You couldn’t be any worse than sugar, but maybe you were.

Maybe he was screwed either way.

“Unbuckle your belt,” you command, and your sweetness has suddenly turned saccharine.

This is the girl that was begging him to kill her piece of shit boyfriend with everything in her back at the club. The one that wasn’t afraid of the gun pointed.

He wanted to challenge her. That one. “Do it for me.” Let me feel your hands, beautiful girl.

You did. Slowly, carefully. Changbin wasn’t even aware he was holding his own breath, until his chest felt ready to explode. Still, he didn’t dare. Couldn’t, with the way your fingers went for his zipper. He was really fucking about to sink himself into you, after humoring himself he wouldn’t touch a strand of your hair.

What a fucking hypocrite.

His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking. You run a finger over the head of it, gathering the precum there, and neared it towards your mouth, your eyes lifting innocently to meet his own. Changbin couldn’t look away, you had him completely fucking hooked. Fucking witch. He was scared of himself, then; scared of what he might do to you.

This wasn’t normal. Wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“Taste it,” he rasped, breath bated. “Put me in your mouth, sweetheart.”

Your lips curved, the finger disappearing between your lips. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. He wanted to draw blood. He wanted to punch something, and keep punching it until it died.

He wanted to fuck you into the mattress.

“I can think of something better,” you whisper to him, leaning close to his ear. His eyes follow you, cock throbbing, needing you there, needing you on. “Undress me, Changbin.”

The Devil finally comes to collect.

Your shirt goes first. His hands reach behind your back to unhook your bra, rushed in their ardor, and he feels no more than a mere teenager, creaming his pants for the first time. You have him delirious, raving. Will it always be like this? This spinning, this dizziness with you. He feels like he hopped into a dance he doesn’t know the steps to. Uncharted waters. He hates it.

He shakes off the holster strap from his shoulders, wants that gun as far the fuck away from you as possible, and bends to take your nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, wanting a reaction from you, anything that would tip the scale back to him. He needed the little control he had before, needed it for what was left of his sanity. You were a dream, spread across his lap, begging him to touch you, to fuck you. No girl had asked before, none had tasted him like this.

Changbin was a giver, but you weren’t letting him give.

“So fucking beautiful…” as he dips his head in between your breasts, as he hooks his thumbs under your bottoms and panties and pulls. You lift for him, and shrug them off, passing your leg over him again once you’re fully naked. “Too beautiful, fuck me.”

He kisses you. Grabs your face and crushes his mouth on yours. He’ll get you to understand, he’ll show you. You moan against him, and it shoots all the way down to his dick. He wants to make the first move; he wants to grab his length and shove himself inside you, wants to bottom out and fuck the shit out of you. It’s an animalistic urge, one he’s not sure you deserve. You’re worth so much more—to be laid down, to be caressed all over. To be made love to. But Changbin wouldn’t know where to begin, and he’d mess it all up. So, he does what he knows and whispers to you, hopes this tether running between you is enough. Hoping his feelings for you are enough.

“Stop me,” he begs one last time, thinking that this could somehow be fixed, could be suppressed, and halted. “You can still run, sweet thing.”

You shake your head and press your fingers on the side of his face. He blinks, heart jump-starting. You actually want this. Him. You want him.

“I’m not going to,” you hush his demons, destroy his defenses.

The room is dark, the TV has stopped its programming. Changbin closes his eyes, listens to the white noise, the static. It luls him, resets him. You reach between you and grab him. He curses, or hisses, and wraps his arms around you tighter. Don’t do this, you don’t understand, you don’t fucking understand, not yet, and I…

You push him inside you, and he groans, forehead falling forward, touching yours. Your breath ghosts over his features, and he feels you stiffening up. He has to move, but there’s not one ounce of strength in his fucking body. So much for all this muscle—it’s useless against you.

“Changbin,” you choke out, hips rolling, demanding friction.

He snaps out of it. “I got you, baby, relax, I have you, I promise.” You meet halfway as he feels you working on his cock, and he thrusts up, hard, slamming you down at the same time.

You cry out and he loses it. Taking in every inch of your euphoric face, he fucks into you forcefully, almost violently, needing to find something in you, to conquer it, to keep it. His dominant hand falls on your ass, slapping, and you bounce down harder, mouth agape, brows furrowed. He loves you like this, this image of you, so free, so eager. Your pussy drowns him, envelops him, a perfectly fitted glove, and he makes sure to graze your walls, to mark his name in there, to have you come back for more, to keep you.

That’s what he’s looking for. To keep you. For you to want him to have you. If you moan out his name one more fucking time… Jesus Christ, has he ever fucked another woman before? You’ve erased them all, you’ve eradicated all memory of them.

You shudder, a thin strip of sweat forming on your chest, and he licks it all his. You taste salty, you taste sweet. You smell like soap, like vanilla. And like him, your juices mixing together, your musks tangling. He won’t last much longer, but he wants you to come first. He wants to watch you cum, coming undone on his cock, on him, while he holds you, while his fingers rub circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. He wants you filthy, wants you his, wants you forever, like this.

Just like this.

“Look at you, sweet fucking girl, taking my cock so well…” He bites his lip, tastes metal, but doesn’t care. “You ride me so good, baby, let me see you. Fuck yes. C’ mon.”

You’re so warm, half there, eyes shut, focusing on that feeling in your gut, low in your belly, and he can’t wait. He can’t wait for you to flood him, to taste you. You’re loving his fingers, he sees it, as soon as he touched your clit your back arched, your hips loosened. Fuck, he wants to flip you around and take you on all fours. Wants to screw you from behind, have you come like that, too. You’re everything he’s ever dreamed of, everything he will ever need.

“I’m so close, I’m so close, please!” your breath hitches, and Changbin grabs you by the throat, watches how you open your eyes wide, afraid. It sends him over the edge—you send him over the edge. It’s okay, my pretty girl, let it out, it’s okay, goddamn you, let me hear you, listen to that pussy, you’re so fucking wet…

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? I can feel it,” he mumbles over your lips, his fingers tightening their hold just slightly. “You’re gonna make a mess for me.”

“Yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, and thrusts one, two, three—

Your entire body stiffens and shivers. He blows as you fall limply on top of him, and he shushes you, fingers sliding up to your hair, pushing back, lips connecting with your temple. You make no move to push him off you, to take him out. You really wanted this. You wanted it as much as I did, sweetheart.

He transfers you on the mattress, laying you down gingerly, and is immediately met with cold, with emptiness. What were once old friends, now bitter enemies. He wants to get used to the warmth, to the gentleness you offer. He wants to call these things his, as well.

Most of all, he wants to take you in his arms again. Wants to stick his body close to yours and fall asleep. Something so simple, yet unattainable. Until now. Until you.

Changbin pecks your shoulder as you come down from your orgasm, then presses a hand between your legs, feeling for the stickiness. He slides a finger up your labia, and brings it to his mouth, sucking the clear liquid off. You turn to look at him, knees folding, pulled towards your torso.

You turned shy again. He smiles without meaning to.

“Wanted a taste,” he defends himself. “My fingers will have to do for now,” and he winks at you.

You blush, red spots spreading across your cheeks, and bring your hand over your mouth. Precious. Cute. Changbin lifts your hand from its place and places a kiss on your soft mouth. Thank you, and he wishes you can somehow hear it in his head.

Then, he tucks himself back in his jeans, and straps back up, letting his head fall, his hand rubbing his neck. It wasn’t just exhaustion—his heart was physically hurting. He just had sex with the girl of his dreams. He came inside of her, and laid with her.

She asked him to stay. Twice.

But the truth remained—he had killed, he needed to pay for his crimes. It was only a matter of time before the police pieced everything together, and there was no amount of paying off Bang Chan could do that would keep all of them away. Some people were pure from birth.

Like you. He hoped you would be the death of him so he’d never have to deal with any of it. But that doesn’t sound like Seo Changbin, either. What is there left to do except wait it out, then? He had this golden opportunity to spend some time with a heavensend girl. He couldn’t possibly fuck it up.

He had to take care of her first.

“I have to make a call, sweetheart.”

He didn’t sleep a wink.

Instead, he watched your rib cage expand then deflate, eight hours of it. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wake you up or not, so he just let you be. If you missed a day of work—well, you deserved a day off after what you went through, didn’t you?

And, either way, it didn’t matter. If they gave you trouble, Changbin had already found you a different job. A better paying one, too, if he was to merely guess. And an apartment, close by to the bar so he could reach you fast if need be. All was ready to go albeit your consent and personal information.

Minho had texted him about an hour ago to ask about you. The bouncer sent a ‘she’s sleeping’ and left it at that. Your friend didn’t have to know about what he’d done, or how you liked it, despite blessing the two of you.

Changbin was regretting it all a little too fucking much. For your sake. If he had no morals, no conscience or basic fucking decency, this would’ve been just another lay, just another poor girl he’d saved. But you weren’t, and this wasn’t.

Wasn’t what? A relationship. A mistake.

Yeah, sleep sure as fuck hadn’t been an option.

Just before the clock struck eleven o’clock, you stirred, stretching your arms in either direction of you, your mouth opening and closing. The sun had been well up in the sky, a warm day with a slight breeze.

Changbin had covered you with multiple blankets, but they had all managed to sneak down to your feet. You were still naked, except for your panties. His cock stirred, and he cleared his throat, messing the mop of curls on top of his head.

Fucking get a grip, asshole.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

He saw you blink up at the ceiling, before you lifted your head to the sound of his voice. Your eyes met and—your lips curved sleepily at him. He smirked back fondly, but didn’t dare get up from where he was sat the entire morning.

“How did you sleep?” You asked, pulling a thinner sheet over you, your cheeks rosy as you rested your head on your arm.

“Great,” he lied. “How about you, love?”

“Okay.” But your face was positively glowing, your eyes sparkled.

His chest clenched. He rubbed a hand over it, trying to appear casual. There was nothing casual about the way you made him feel just then. He never stayed after sex, he never saw how the women he took to this motel looked the morning after.

And he didn’t want to. He just wanted to keep staring at you. He wanted you to look at him back, always.

“What time do you have work?”

Your eyes widened, hands immediately jumping to find your phone, to check the time.

“Fuck!”

Changbin sat back, arms crossing over his chest, watching you run around the room panicked. He’d never get used to the sight of your breasts bouncing, or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. It was all very endearing, very lovely.

Lovely. Nothing had been lovely before. Fucking Hell.

“Don’t go,” he teased you. “I can think of a few things we can do here.”

Half way in a pair of jeans, you looked up at him like he’d grown two heads. His laugh was throaty, genuine. Your eyes, though. They betrayed you.

“I still have to work, Changbin,” you retorted with an obvious voice, head going through a T-shirt.

“Just sayin’, sweetheart. You look fucking hot.”

You blush, but otherwise ignore him.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re mounting his motorcycle, your body pressed against his. He can’t help but think of last night, of the way your cunt squeezed him deeper, how your nails dug into his neck.

How was he going to go without you for a whole day? After knowing what he does. After having had a taste?

He needed a fucking shower. He needed ten minutes without you so he could get his head straight.

Every time he closed his eyes—there you were, your velvet skin, your breathy voice moaning out his name.

“If anything happens, anything at all, you call me,” he says for what seems like the tenth time.”Immediately.”

You all but groan, gaze flitting guiltily to the entrance of the clothing store you worked at. “Yes,” you reply for what, also most likely, is the tenth time. “I will, Changbin. I promise. Please.”

He nods his head towards your workplace. “Go. Be careful.”

You turn to run, but then stop on your tracks like you forgot something. Changbin leans against his bike, eyebrows raising. He has no time to register what is happening, or why possibly—you kiss him straight on the mouth, bruisingly, and grin widely at him.

He’s dumbfounded. Touches his lips to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Yesterday wasn’t a dream, then. You still wanted him. He drops his head so you don’t see him smiling like a fool.

“I’ll see you later!” You call out.

“I’ll be right here, darling.” And he meant it.

From the corner of his eye, a shark out of water. Prowling.

tags. @ughbehavior, @streetlight-s, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @lix-ables, @koorminii, @choinsaw.

a/n. literally no one asked for this to be so long, and yet it is and i’m so sorry. i do hope you still give it a chance, since i worked quite hard on it. i left it as an open ending, in case i want to add a second chapter to it, but as it stands, the story is finished. hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading lovelies! 💕

#changbin scenarios #changbin smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #chagbin fanfic #changbin imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #changbin x reader #—mine.

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

Note

Lover.

Matt with bartender!reader.

Fucking them over the counter late at night after closing because they just smelled way too good. He teases them about how he could hear them throbbing for him all night.

this hit the SPOT

ELECTRIC CHAPEL- M. MURDOCK

Pairing: Bartender! Matt x Bartender! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, but more like teasing? like matt just teasing you and refusing to stick it in bc hes so, so mean, heavy flirting/ sexual tension, pet names, praise kink, swearing, smartass matthew murdock

"if you want me, meet me at electric chapel, if you wanna steal my heart away- meet me, meet me, baby, in a safe place, c'mon, meet me... in electric chapel"- electric chapel, lady gaga

“You wanna start a tab honey?” you asked sweetly, the countertop cool against your bare skin as you leaned in towards the redhead, nodding as she extended her card.

The music was loud as it thudded from the speakers, reverberating through your heels up through your spinal cord. You watched her turn in her stool as she adjusted herself, legs crossing from under the bar as you slid her a smirk, a certain twinkle in your eye as you felt her check you out.

You were used to it over the years, the customers often already on a buzz that seemed to flair and flourish when they were in your presence, your little flirtatious comments driving them wild.

It was business. People came, people left, drinks were bought and were gone in a matter of minutes. But the little interactions were fun nonetheless.

She was cute you thought as you turned over to scan her card, feeling her eyes pierce to your back like thumbtacks to a corkboard.

You couldn't help but smile as you slid the card back to her, nails drumming the granite before starting her drink. The polished glasses glistened from the neon signs, the deep shades of cherry and crimson a stark contrast compared to the dark environment that was the Electric Chapel Bar.

The bar drew in all kinds of customers, but all of them had one thing in common- spunk. A type of energy that could only be found beneath the streets of New York, between the walls of the underground lair.

You knew she possessed that with her leather jacket and sharp winged liner, red hair bright as flames. She was here alone, as far a you could tell. You'd have to take care of her.

“So what's your name love?” you drawled, adding ice to the shaker as you started to craft her drink.

“Natasha. But you can call me Nat. All the pretty people do.” she smiled, mischievous as a cheshire cat as she watched you. You couldn't help but beam from ear to ear at her foxy comments, soaking up all the attention she gave you.

“Nat. I like that name. It’s cute.” you commented as you finished shaking up her concoction, straining it into the glass.

“Why thank you. Hey, when do you get off work?” she asked as you propped a lemon slice on the side of her glass, citrus already starting to slowly drip down the sides as you slid it over to her. You shrugged, smirking in delight as she slid you a twenty from her purse.

“Anytime you want me off baby.” you giggled, stuffing the twenty in your bra with a wink, trotting off towards your coworker- Matt.

His presence was potient despite being placed on the opposite end of the large bar, and you watched as his large shoulderblades shift and move as he flipped bottles between his pretty hands before he poured. It was mesmerizing- watching him work. His movements were clean and elegant, with a hint of flair behind them.

Enough so that you could never look away from him, whether if he was working or not. You often felt yourself drawn to him, always making note to act sly and seductive towards him.

It was no secret there was tension between the two of you, and you couldn't deny the sexual attraction you felt for him. It flared up now as you neared him, his skin warm to the touch as you slid your hand across his bicep, reaching over him to snag a cherry to suck on.

You could have easily gone beside him, the two of you both knew that. But it was more fun this way.

“Someone’s been busy eh?” he asked, his pace never slowing as he slid over another two drinks for some regulars.

“Oh what this?” you pulled the bill from your bra, rubbing your fingers along the thin paper to hear it crinkle. “Nothing a little flirting can't manage. You're slacking Murdock.”

“I'm slacking because I only flirt with you.” he noted, eyebrows raising as you shrugged. “Fair enough.” you nodded, giving his arm a quick little pat before heading off towards the back, making sure to swish your hips as you left.

The black skirt was snug around your curves, making you feel sexy and powerful with each click of your high heels. The owner of the bar was rather relaxed, a dress code next to nothing- but black was required. That had never bothered you, as black was nothing but a magnet drawn to your closet, whether it was leather, velvet or cashmere.

It looked amazing on Matt- an added bonus to the job. Though Matt looked good in anything really.

“Hey Y/L/N?” he called, voice clear as day over the thumping music that poured from all around the bar. You turned.

“Stay focused. I could feel your eyes on me the whole damn shift.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Anddd done!” you smiled, letting out a gentle huff as you threw the white towel down on the now freshly cleaned bar top, rubbing the little trickle of sweat that ran down your forehead with the back of your hand.

It was an odd hour in the morning, all the other staff had packed up and left almost an hour prior. You and Matt were closing- as always, though you enjoyed it without fail. You survived the empty space, admiring your handiwork.

All the tables were freshly wiped, the smell of mint in the air from the glistening black marble. The red booths had been cleaned off, the dancefloor deserted, heart-shaped ashtrays cleared. Only a few flickering neon signs remained on as you leaned against the ice well, fighting the urge not to squirt Matt with a soda gun.

“Almost- you mean.” he commented, sat firmly on a barstool, spinning around like a five year old.

“What do you mean almost?” you pouted, the towel and spray bottle snatched away from your station as he stood. “You missed table fourteen. There’s no mint there.” he shrugged, your mouth dropping to the floor.

Sometimes you forgot he had enhanced senses. It came in handy, but in times like this you wish he could put away the hound dog for one night.

“You can smell that?!”

“Oh sweetheart I can smell alotta things.” he smirked cheekly, resuming his journey over to the abandoned table, leaving you in disbelief.

You sighed, elbows resting against the counter as you watched his biceps move, the veins trailing up his arms like spiderwebs flex and move as he wiped down the table, removing every last crumb.

It was nauseating- how drawn to him you were. A part of yourself hated every bit of your body that was plagued by the thought of him, knowing deep down it was so very wrong to think of a co-worker that way.

But the two of you just… clicked. You worked so well together, it got to the point the boss had only put the two of you together on shifts. You were fast and efficient, your energies meshing together to provide the customers with a great experience. Not to mention you got a great experience as well behind the bar, his flirty comments and little teasing touches doing nothing but adding more fuel to the fire.

That very touch frightened you now, had made you jump as Matt had crept up behind you. “Jumpy lil thing aren't you?” he murmured to himself, as if he were observing you like a laboratory experiment.

“I was daydreaming.” you sighed, wiggling your hips against him as you peeled your eyes from the darkness of the room, brain slightly foggy from shifting out of focus.

“Yeah? About what?” he asked, the back of his knuckles caressing your arm as you let your head droop down in relaxation. Matt’s aura had captured you in a trance, always leaving you feeling like you had stepped out of a hot tub covered in lavender. He made your muscles loose, bones feel like jello as your head became foggy with haziness.

“Oh ya know… just some stuff.”

“Some stuff?” he pressed, voice benign as he began to unravel you. You felt your thighs start to clench, breath hot and heavy as your panties started to drench.

Oh god.

He felt so good, and he was barely even touching you. Hardly zero advances.

“Just some stuff..”

“I’ve been thinking about stuff all night too bunny. So many things.”

You were going to be sick. You felt as if you had a fever with how hot your skin was, the blood coursing through your veins like liquid fire causing your heart to thud through your ears. It hurt. The need that racked through your frame physically hurt.

“Like what?” He chuckled. “Since I’m not a tease, I’ll tell you.”

Lie. He teased you all the time. Every time he entered your peripheral vision, you felt as if he was trying to push you past your breaking point, making you lose an invisible game. Both of you were too stubborn to jump each other's bones, as much as you wanted to.

But tonight felt different, an extra weight of sexual tension in the air. “I was thinking about how good you smelled. And how I could hear you throbbing for me all night. Is that what you were thinking about too, bunny?”

Shutting your eyes, you sharply inhaled.

Okay. This was happening. This was happening right fucking now and you genuinely had to keep yourself composed or you would melt into this man's arms like fucking puddy.

“N-no.”

“Don’t lie to me angel. You know I don’t like when you lie.” A hand brushed against your back, the hairs on your neck raising. Fingers curled around the countertop's edge, breath quickening as he listened to your thundering heartbeat. You could barely move.

“Yes. Yes I was and I want-” You choked. “I want you so bad. It hurts, Murdock. You’re hurting me.”

You're hurting me. Those words snapped something inside of him, drove him feral. Did you know the impact you had on him? The sweet floral scent that plagued his senses whenever you neared him, the quickening of your heartbeat mixed with your arousal. Sometimes he hated how sensitive he was, because it was almost painful to be around you.

All he wanted to do was to pound into you, use you like a personal fleshlight like he knew you wanted to be so badly for him. But he couldn't. Because you were co-workers, and that was wrong and what if things didn’t work out?

He had a feeling that wouldn't be the case with you. Plus, who said he couldn't have a little fun anyway?

“D’need me to take the pain away sweetheart?”

You nodded. Words were unable to form, getting stuck in your throat like phlegm. Please. Please, please, please.

His hand slid down to your skirt, tugging at the elastic waistband. One of the two things that separated the thing he needed the most. “Can I?”

“Please.” With a slight pull, the fabric slid down past your thighs, panites sliding down with them. He inhaled deeply, basking in your scent.

“Fuck..” he murmured, palming himself through his jeans. “You smell so good. So sweet n pretty..”

The sound of his belt jingling excited you, your eyes wide as you watched him tug at the buttons.

This was happening. This wasn't just another wet dream, some fantasy where you ended with your fingers between your thighs. He was here, and he was taking care of you.

His touches were soft and gentle, yet demanding in a way as his fingers trailed up your leg to your thighs, inching them further apart. You gasped as he swiped a digit across your slit, wetness gleaming on his finger.

You felt as if the air had been stolen from your lungs as his arms wrapped around you in a comforting embrace, hands meeting at your lower belly as he pressed against the muscle gently.

“You’re so good to me angel. So, so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm” he hummed against you, and you shivered. Any flirty, witty response you always threw at him was now gone, your brain slowly beginning to malfunction as he brushed his cock against your slit, making you hiss with pleasure.

“Matt-”

“Oh you didn’t think we were gonna actually fuck honey, did you? We’re coworkers. You’re so dirty.” he smirked, ruthlessly teasing you as he brushed his cock against your clit, causing you to wither and squirm in his arms.

This was torture. It was torture and pleasure in the best way possible, and you were grasping at the seams for anything he would give to you.

“Naughty. You’re being so, so naughty.” he cooed, as if he was talking to a little baby kitten. Your slick coated his dick as he slid it back and forth against your folds, whispering sweet, gentle things into your ear.

As if he wasn't mocking your need, slipping right by where you needed him most.

Good girl. So good to me. Letting me use you, violate you like this. It’s filthy really, how badly you need this. How badly you need me.

Yes. Yes, yes. Was all you could think, all you wanted to think. You were overstimulated beyond measure with the way he was teasing your clit, the way his hands ran up and down your body with that low, gravelly voice husky with smoke.

You were aching to have him buried deep inside you, stuffing you full until you cried. But you would take this. You would accept this, because it was all you could accept.

He was in charge, he held the reins. You may have teased him, slightly bossed him around on the clock but off- oh no. Matt had made it very, very clear he was in charge. What he gave you is what you got.

And you were to take it with a moan, a roll of your eyes and a hazy smile on your face. You did just that.

“You’re being so mean-” you managed to squeak out, before he slipped away from you with a smile.

“I’m the mean one?” You gulped.

“Sure, I can be the mean one. Meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes baby. Lock up.”

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

AITA for refusing to file for disability in order to pay bills?

I quit my job right when COVID started surging in 2020 because my boss refused to mask and I'm immunocompromised; I also didn't wanna bring that home to my partners (I'll call them Fox and Rabbit), one of whom is also immunocompromised, or our then-toddler kid either. (Plus, my boss wasn't paying me consistently on-time or the full amounts I was owed, but that's another can of worms)

However, I wasn't able to find anything work-from-home (I have auditory processing issues that make phone jobs impossible, plus we didn't have internet so I was just hotspotting off my phone to get online), and because of lockdown, safety concerns, and lack of a vehicle, I couldn't really get an in-person job either, so I did as much as I could taking care of household budgeting, conflict resolution, and looking after our 3-4yo kid along with Fox (who did most of the actual housework, as I wasn't able to be outside my room much because I was severely allergic to the pets there at the time).

Rabbit (kid's bio-parent) became work-from-home after a brief stint on unemployment due to their employer fucking around, staying over with their coworker/other partner (I'll call Rose) for the internet, and our other roommate contributed to rent until he moved out, so we were able to stay afloat and safely isolated for a while at least, and I started teaching our kid to read and write as my main share of the household contribution, which everyone at least claimed to be fine with.

Fast forward a bit, and both me and Rabbit got extra people in the household mix; a partner who I'd been involved with online for some time (Chomps) moved in with us, and Rabbit married Rose and moved in with her officially, with the kid staying on non-workdays with them and otherwise being looked after mostly by Fox and I. Eventually, with leases on both our places running out but with all of us outspokenly committed to working together, we all moved into Rose's parents' house (while they were overseas on vacation; they wanted caretakers there to look after Rose's younger sibling, who is disabled). Rose's parents--who are also polyam and very well-off--offered to bankroll a new home for all of us so we didn't have rent to pay for a while and could just catch up on things. Chomps even secured a decent-paying job. Things were going very well!

Then, a significant wrinkle came when Chomps needed to quit due to COVID concerns (anti-vaxxers in a high-risk environment, no vaccines available for small kids yet so we were mostly worried about the kid as we'd all been vaxxed at that point otherwise). At the time, everyone agreed that was a good idea! So, everyone braced for financial belt-tightening, and Chomps quit.

At this point, I was barely eating one meal a day out of guilt for my inability to contribute much, but I was also homeschooling our then-pre-k-into-kindergarten-age kid, and helping cook food and handle chores. Due to both Rabbit and Rose working from home and complaining of connection issues whenever anyone else used internet, me and Chomps could barely job-hunt (our phones didn't really get signal out there either), and without the ability to drive or a consistently-available vehicle, we worried constantly about providing for the household. Still, Rose and Rabbit reassured us that it was fine and getting handled.

Until one day it apparently wasn't, and Rose started getting onto me specifically (having been jobless for a couple years at this point, only getting two interviews despite putting in literally hundreds of applications) about filing for disability. Her opinion was that I could "just be on it until [I] got a job". That is not how disability works, and I told her as much, and refused to even start that process instead of continuing to look for work that I could feasibly do (which, frankly, was already taking as much time and effort as a full-time job, just with no financial benefit).

Granted, I could probably qualify for disability benefits, since I have physical and mental issues that make my range of possible employment pretty limited (though, as I'd been able to put in hundreds of applications to things I was sure I could do, it's far from impossible for me to work). However, the type of disabilities I would most easily and likely qualify with are the kind that would also very probably have my autonomy removed (this has been confirmed by two doctors and a therapist independently of one another). Plus, I'd be unable to marry Fox (as we'd agreed to do years and years ago) or get a job again without risking the loss of any benefits I could manage to secure, and also making it incredibly hard to recover those benefits if/when I further deteriorated down the line due to age, injury, or other factors and actually couldn't physically work.

So, while continuing my (unexpectedly unsuccessful) hunt for employment beyond a once-monthly gig that paid ~$75 (which is how I bought my own essential toiletries and groceries), I homeschooled the kid (which was a success, to the point that they later rolled into 1st grade with reading, writing, and math proficiency well above their peers!!), did most of the house troubleshooting and repair, and used as few resources as possible to minimize my impact on household finances, to the point that I averaged eating only one meal each day for years. Still, AITA for not just biting the bullet and giving up on the job hunt to prioritize securing disability payments?

(It's been about two years since that point and our current situation is stable despite partial dissolution of the polycule, with Fox and Chomps both working and paying the entirety of my portion of "rent" on the place Rose's parents bought her, while I continue to job-hunt with help from the state's vocational rehab dept. Fox and Chomps reassure me every time that they can see I'm doing my best and they're happy to take care of me as needed; I still feel fucked up about not being able to contribute financially and take care of them and everyone else in the same way, and wonder all the time if I made/am making the right call by refusing to pursue disability benefits unless I absolutely physically cannot work.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mysterious-ocarina · 10 months

Note

amazing work! consider this… gn reader is chuuyas coworker who’s emotionless and keeps their distance from him and their colleagues… chuuya starts to like them but doesn’t know how to bridge the gap…. and on a mission with chuuya, (there was only one bed!!) an asphrodiac gets put in their drink… so they come to him begging him to help them because they don’t know what to do… and fluff and smut ensues!!

Because You Want Me To (NSFW)

Chuuya Nakahara x fem!reader

A/N Im so sorry, i really meant to keep it gn but then i just got caught up with the feminism idea cuz i mean come on, theres no way chuuya isnt a woman respecter. I also was not sure how to write gn smut. If you dont like it, i can totally write it again but definitely gn and less feminism involved. Pls lmk also pls tell me what termonology to use for. . . certain body parts cuz lately everything just sounds wrong

please give me recommendations for books to use as abilities or just abilities in general for bsd content

Main Masterlist BSD Masterlist Requests AO3

(4.0k words)

Sitting hunched over your desk filling out paperwork was getting real old, really quick. You sighed as you leaned back in your chair. Some may call you a workaholic but you were simply strong-willed and determined. Growing up the way you did, you learned to be very independent and how to make your own spot in the world. You joined the Port Mafia at the age of sixteen and have worked the hardest you could to be the strongest.

Your ability did not give you a fighting advantage but you did have a clairvoyant advantage. You were able to speak to animals and your pet raven was your second pair of eyes and ears. It was a normal occurrence for people to see you walking around the halls with Ace clinging to your shoulders. More often than not, he was your partner on missions considering you preferred to work alone.

Becoming an Executive to the Port Mafia was hard work but there wasn’t anything that you would allow to stand in your way. You were very feared and very respected, which is exactly how you like it. You only conversed with your coworkers when it was needed. You were here to do your job, not make pointless relations with coworkers. It was pretty easy for you to avoid interactions with most people in the Port Mafia. The only exceptions were the boss and the other executives, one in particular.

Chuuya Nakahara was. . . different. You weren’t really sure what it was (you do but you’re in denial) but there is something about him that makes him more bearable than anyone else in the mafia that you’ve met. Whenever you were paired together for missions, which was pretty often, he always pulled his weight. There were times when you were paired with people who just wouldn’t do the job they were assigned to do because of egos or whatever. It bothered you to no end when you had to pick up their slack. Chuuya was a great mafioso and incredibly strong which was something you greatly respected.

You still did your best to avoid him, outside of missions. There was no reason why someone, let alone a man, should distract you from your job.

Ace squawked next to you, breaking you from your thoughts. Is something the matter?

You chuckled, thinking about how your best friend was a raven and that he knew you well enough. You brushed him off, “Nothing’s the matter.”

Ace left the perch by the window and landed on your armrest. He nipped your arm with his beak before squawking again. I bet I know exactly what you're thinking about.

Stupid bird, you thought as you glared at him. “Shut your beak.”

Ace climbed to your shoulder as a knock was heard on your office door. You muttered "come in" before Chuuya made an appearance. He walked in, fashionable as ever, and closed the door behind him. He looked a bit fidgety and you had to stop yourself from asking him if he was okay. It was none of your concern.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Chuuya said as a greeting, straight to the point, something that gave him a point in your head, not that you were keeping track of stuff he did that you liked.

You raised your eyebrow at him, motioning for him to continue. He sat down and placed his hat in his lap. Pulling a small bag from his jacket pocket, he dumped an assortment of nuts in a bowl on your desk for Ace. You tried really hard to stop a smile from covering your face but your lips slightly curled up. A point for him.

Ace hopped from your shoulder, squawking. I like him.

Your smile faded at his smug tone, snapping, “Well, no one asked for your opinion.”

Chuuya gazed at the both of you, “Does he not like them?”

“That’s not it. You had news?” you questioned, changing the subject.

Immediately Chuuya got serious and professional. Another point. “Yes. The good news is that we have a mission together. Just simple intel gathering.”

You were glad it was only intel and not a fight because you weren’t in the mood to fight anyone. That doesn’t mean it would go smoothly. If you weren’t careful, intel gathering could turn nasty incredibly quick. You stared back at Chuuya, “What’s the bad news?”

Chuuya looked at you, apologetically, “We’ll need to stay overnight and I know you hate overnight missions. The event we are going to is hours away and by the time it’s over, it will be too late at night to get back. Mori already booked us a hotel room.”

You sighed and ignored the fact that he knew you wouldn’t be happy. Rubbing your temples, you asked, “When are we leaving? I’ll read the files in the car.”

That’s how you found yourself, riding passenger in one of the mafia’s cars. The back window was open for Ace to come and go as he pleased, something Chuuya did before you had to even ask. Another point. You spent the entire drive reading over the files for subjects and information you were supposed to be looking for tonight. You could tell that Chuuya wanted to talk to you as a way to pass the time but you kept your head in the files, refusing to let him distract you.

You joined the mafia around the same time as him but you never interacted with him, or anyone for that matter. It wasn’t until you were both executives when you would be paired for missions and forced to get to know each other. You didn’t hate getting to know him but you kept the talk about yourself to a minimum.

When you first became an executive, there were rumors going around that you had slept with the boss to make it to where you were. You know, the typical rumors that follow a powerful woman. The rumors didn’t outwardly bother you, “let dickbags believe whatever they want” you would always say if someone asked you about it. But when you found out that the only people who didn’t believe the rumors were Kouyou and Chuuya, you felt a sense of security in your position. Kouyou understood the difficulty of being a woman in power and Chuuya. . . well you weren’t too sure why he didn’t believe the rumors.

“What?” he muttered. You must have been staring at him for too long because he was looking at you with a red face, embarrassed maybe.

“When I first became an executive, why didn’t you believe the rumors that I slept my way there,” you asked, blunt and intrigued.

He seemed very surprised by your question, stammerings, “I-I don’t know. Why would. . .”

He paused for a bit, seeming unsure what to say. You just stared at him, an impassive expression on your face.

He sighed, keeping his focus on the road instead of you, “Do you really think I’m that immature to believe rumors like that?”

You sensed a little insecurity in his voice but ignored it. You replied, “It’s not like I gave you any reason to believe I wouldn’t. You didn’t know me.”

“You didn’t give me a reason to believe that you would either.”

You paused, unsure of how to respond. Being a woman in a male dominant field was difficult and it seemed that Chuuya understood how baseless those kinds of rumors could be. Another point.

Facing the window, you spoke up, “I didn’t. Just so you know.”

“I know,” he replied without hesitation.

You didn’t fight the smile that formed on your face this time. You just hoped Chuuya couldn’t see it because you were facing the other way.

He did and he will cherish the image forever.

By the time you got to the hotel, you were significantly less unhappy about the assignment you had been given, not that you outwardly showed it. Something about your conversation with Chuuya in the car sparked something within you. Your denial of how much you cared for the red head next to you was melting away. Usually this would bother you but you had a feeling that Chuuya or the feelings you hold for him will not get in your way of your job, which brought you great comfort and security. It looked like Chuuya respected you and your work ethic.

Chuuya grabbed your guy’s bags as you made your way into the hotel and to the front desk to check in.

Politely, you greeted, “Hello, there should be a room reserved for me.”

The pretty receptionist gave you a kind smile and when Chuuya came up beside you, she gave him a sweeter one. She kept staring at Chuuya, making him blush, “What name will it be under?”

Haughtily, you replied, “Ougai Mori. It’s for my partner and I.”

Calling Chuuya your partner wasn’t wrong, he was your partner for this mission. But you knew that the receptionist would take it the wrong way, which brought you a little bit of satisfaction.

She looked at you with a forced smile. She handed you your key cards before dismissing you, “Room 115, it’s at the end of the hall on the left.”

You gave her a smug smile, “Thank you.”

You walked through the hall in search of your room, Chuuya trailing behind you. He walked beside you, giving you a look, “What was that?”

You kept walking, face empty, “What was what?”

“Back there, with the receptionist. You guys were being passive aggressive with each other. Is there some kind of woman thing I'm not understanding?” Chuuya asked, confused.

You briefly glanced at him and shrugged, only replying, “Sure.”

He sighed next to you but decided against asking about it anymore, knowing you wouldn’t answer him how he wanted.

Unlocking the room door, the both of you made your way into.

“Shit,” you explained. The room that the two of you would be staying in tonight only had a single bed.

Chuuya sighed next to you and asked, “Want me to go to the front desk?”

Not wanting him to interact with the receptionist, you shook your head, “No, we can figure it out later. I’m going to shower and get ready for the event.”

Chuuya placed both your bags on the bed and rifled through his, “I’ll get the garment bags from the car with our outfits in them.”

You were already in the bathroom in the shower when you heard Chuuya come back into the room. You also heard a little kawing so you assumed he let Ace into the room. A point.

You spent a lot of time in the bathroom after you finished your shower. In the shower, images of Chuuya were flooding your mind. You had to keep reminding yourself that he was just in the other room and you shouldn’t do anything unprofessional. Even if your cunt prickled with neediness.

Eventually realizing that Chuuya will want to shower too, you calmed your body down and left the bathroom. You had dried your hair and done all of your makeup but didn’t have the dress you were wearing. Covered in only a towel, you walked over to the garment bag on the bed.

While looking at his phone, Chuuya said to you, “That bag is yours. I talked to Mori and it looks like it was an error in the hotel system. He advised that we just keep the room as is.”

Chuuya ran a hand through his hair, annoyed, and looked up at you. He blushed when he noticed that you were only in a towel and averted his gaze. He muttered, “I can sleep on the floor.”

You glared at the back of his head, “I won’t make you sleep on the dirty floor. We can figure out the sleeping arrangements when we get back. Now go get dressed, I do not want to attract unwanted attention for being late.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chuuya replied with a smirk. You sighed in faux annoyance with a blush on your face as he silently made his way to the bathroom with his garment bag.

You slipped into the dress. It was tight fitting but not uncomfortable with a slit up your thigh. It was also an alluring shade of red which made you immediately think of Chuuya. For a second, you were curious how he would react seeing you in this dress but you shook the thoughts from your head.

You sat at the desk and mirror set up in the room to do your hair and makeup for the night, taking note that Chuuya seemed to be taking an awfully long time in the shower. You put your brush down and went to the bathroom door to ask if Chuuya was okay. But right before you were going to ask, you heard a sound that had you shutting up and blushing. It sounded like Chuuya was groaning and saying your name.

You backed up until the back of your legs hit the bed and sat down. Was Chuuya. . . masturbating in the shower? Thinking about you, no less? You were thankful that Ace wasn’t in the room to squawk and add to your embarrassment.

You were extremely flustered but flattered that Chuuya thought of you that way. It offered you comfort to know that you weren’t alone in thinking unprofessionally of your partner. Maybe after the mission was over, you would have the chance to talk to Chuuya about the possibility of expanding your relationship. But for now, you need to get your head out of the gutter and focus on your job.

When Chuuya finally came out of the bathroom, he was looking especially handsome in his suit. He stopped in his tracks as he looked at you. When he saw your crossed legs and the slit of the dress exposing your thigh, he thought he might faint. Red in the face he coughed, “You look beautiful.”

You thought it was really endearing that he wouldn’t look you in the eye. “Thank you. You clean up pretty nicely as well.”

You did your best to not stare at him but you could feel the tension between you guys building. You grabbed the necklace you were going to wear and placed it into Chuuya’s hand. “Could you put this on for me?”

You turned around, not waiting for an answer. Chuuya, ever so slowly, wrapped the small chain around your neck and clasped it. He pulled your hair out from under it and set it back in place cascading down your back. His hand lightly grazed your neck and you failed to contain the shivers that went through your body.

You quickly turned back around and ignored the butterflies in your stomach. You stared at Chuuya’s face, finding adoration covering it.

“Let’s go, handsome,” you announced, now nervous of your distracting partner.

“Yes ma’am,” Chuuya repeated, a smile painted on his face. You turned and walked out the door not bothering to hide the small smile that appeared on your face.

This had to be the hardest mission you’ve ever been on. Now it wasn’t really intellectually hard, intel gathering was as simple as knowing how to charm others into talking about whatever you wanted. But at some point you couldn’t focus on any conversations you were a part of, Chuuya having to pick up your slack, something that would have bothered you to no end if you didn’t feel the way you did right now.

With his arm around your waist, Chuuya pulled you to one of the tables and chairs scattered about the event. He sat you down and grabbed the champagne glass from your hands, “I wouldn’t pin you as a lightweight.”

Your face was flush and your entire body felt like it was on fire, “I’m not drunk, Chuuya. Something is wrong.”

Chuuya stared at you worriedly but you couldn’t stand to look at him. You could barely stand to have his arm around you and standing so close to you. Anywhere his skin touched yours sent shivers down your spine and the smell of him was driving you crazy. Vanilla and Sandalwood. You clenched your thighs, hoping to relieve the tension that was forming in your bottom half.

“Shit,” you exclaimed when you figured out what happened. Your breathing was extremely labored as you explained, “I-I need you to take me to the hotel. . . and lock me in the room for the night. Some. . . one must have drugged me, I’ll explain more later. Did you get all the information we needed?”

“Yes, we should have everything we need. What’s going on?” Chuuya asked, voice a bit tense.

He put his arm around your waist to help you up and it took everything in you to not moan at the feeling of his touch. You couldn’t muster up the strength to speak as he brought you outside and to the car. He started driving back to the hotel, looking at you every few seconds to see if you were alright. The way he was worried about you was making your head spin with adoration and your thighs clench with lust.

Panting, you replied, “I think someone knew we were there and drugged me as a distraction. I think I’ve been given an aphrodisiac.”

Chuuya stared at your panting and sweaty body, beyond confused, “What kind of drug is that? You better not be dying on me?”

At the hotel, Chuuya brought you back to the room and laid you on the bed. He seemed antsy and a bit annoyed that you weren’t answering him.

You put him out of his misery by explaining, “An aphrodisiac is a drug that. . . in simple terms makes the victim like an animal in heat.”

You writhed in the bed, sweat dripping off of you. You so badly wished that Chuuya would just shut up and take care of your neediest spots but it looks like you won’t get what you want just yet.

Staring at you, a blushing mess, Chuuya questioned, “How do you know that’s what you’ve been given?”

You groaned, annoyed with having to deal with this. Inappropriate thoughts of your partner were flooding your mind and making it almost impossible for you to pay attention to his line of questioning. “Because. . . Chuuya. I can’t get the thought of you and that pretty face of yours out of my head. All I want to do right now is push you down on this bed and ride you until I pass out.”

You basically moaned at the flustered look Chuuya was giving you. After a few labored breaths you spoke up again, “Now. I heard you in the shower so I know you want me.”

Unable to bear it any longer, you stripped off your dress. Now fully naked in front of Chuuya. He coughed again but looked away, “I would only want to have sex with you if it was because you wanted me to and not some drug making you. That’s not fair to you.”

Chuuya turned around and just before he was about to walk away, you grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket, “Trust me. This is not how I would have wanted this to go but-” you paused, finding the words stuck in your mouth. You moaned again when Chuuya’s fingers slipped into yours, unable to contain yourself, “I really do want you Chuuya. And I know you have enough respect for me to not ruin our relationship or my relationship with my work.”

Chuuya stared at you, flustered and undeniably hard but unsure of what to do. You took the final step by pulling his arm, forcing him to fall on top of you. You grabbed the back of his head to pull him closer to you. He didn’t resist as you slotted your lips into his.

It was a ferocious kiss that was filled with lust, passion, and neediness. You ran your hands through Chuuya’s hair and down his front making him groan into your mouth. You tried to pull the belt from his pants but your hands were too shaky. You whined when he pulled your hands away from him and brought them to rest above you. He used one hand to hold yours in place and the other to undo his pants.

Chuuya chuckled, “If you need me that bad, how come you can’t even get my pants off of me?”

“Stop teasing, please Chuuya,” you begged, moaning when he brought his mouth back down to yours.

Chuuya got off of you and stood in front of you and the bed. He sighed, content, “I’ve been waiting for this forever. I don’t know if it’s obliviousness or stubbornness that kept you away from me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of you as he stripped, breathlessly you replied, “A bit of both. . . But no more.”

Chuuya gave you a dazzling smile, climbing back on top of you. He laid kisses down your stomach as he spoke, “No more.”

You whined as he laid kiss after kiss on your body, wanting more. He finally took his hands and soothingly rubbed your thighs, “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes, Chuuya. Please just do what you want to me. I’ll take anything,” you begged, desperate to be touched by him.

Instead of teasing you further like you thought he would, Chuuya gets to work pleasuring you. Moving his hands from your thighs, Chuuya brings them to your dripping cunt. Slowly but surely, he presses two fingers into you while rubbing his thumb on your clit.

You writhed on the bed, holding back your moans. Chuuya wouldn’t have that.

“Now, now, princess. I’d like to hear who’s making you feel so good,” Chuuya chided, fingering you faster and harder.

“Chuuya, I’m going to-” you moaned, overwhelmed with pleasure.

He brought his mouth up to your breasts, licking and biting as he went, “It’s okay. You can come.”

His mouth on your body and his permission was the last thing holding you back. You came with a loud scream, convulsing around his fingers.

When you had calmed down and Chuuya pulled his fingers out of you, you grabbed the back of his head to bring his lips to yours. You made out for what felt like ages before Chuuya chose to break the kiss to speak, “How do you feel now, princess?”

“I feel like, I need you to fuck me. Please, Chuuya,” you begged, pulling his body as close to you as you could. His erection was pressed into your thighs, making you whine in want.

Chuuya groaned and marked around your neck. He whispered, “As you wish.”

Before long, Chuuya was hovering over you and rubbing his cock through your folds. The both of you moaned at the contact before he slipped into you with ease.

He kept still, letting you adjust, until you wiggled your hips to encourage him to move. Any self control he had up to this point all but vanished. Chuuya pounded into you ferociously, coaxing you into a moaning and whining mess.

You were too distracted with pleasure to do anything but moan Chuuya’s name. One hand on your waist to keep you where he wanted, he used his other hand to bring your hands back up over your head.

He brought his lips down to yours to give you a lustful kiss. You struggled to keep up with his pace, too busy moaning, but he didn’t care. With how feral he was being right now, you would have thought that he was the one who was drugged.

Eventually his hips started to stutter, notifying you of both his and your approaching orgasm. Chuuya brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. You blacked out as you came, screaming and overloaded with pleasure. When you finally came to, Chuuya was slowing down his thrusts, still prolonging the pleasure.

When he finally stopped moving and pulled out of you, you could feel his juices seeping out of you. You laid on the bed, too dazed to move, and watched as Chuuya grabbed a wet cloth from the bathroom and cleaned you up.

“I think that was a successful mission. We got what we needed and we finally slept together,” Chuuya joked. You cracked a small smile and chuckled at him. How could you ever think that being with Chuuya wouldn’t go well?

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