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ddollipop · 7 months

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CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. oc carrd! — click here to find more information on lucian + other original characters of mine that i might write for in the future! xx .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there.

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly.

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

#oc #original character #plague doctor #original character smut #oc smut #oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere original character x reader #yandere oc smut #yandere original character smut #soft yandere

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theemporium · 4 months

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[4.1k] when a last minute team meeting takes them to amsterdam, lando decides to take the opportunity to see what his teammate is like under the influence. (smut)

part two to this blurb that spiralled into landoscar smut somehow

It happened in Amsterdam.

With a new sponsor on the rise and the team desperate to lock down the deal before the new season started, Lando and Oscar were asked to fly out to the Netherlands a few weeks before the car launch. It put a small damper on both men’s winter break plans, the last few days of freedom they had before they dived into work mode for the new season—but ultimately, neither boy complained.

Oscar had felt bad for having to cancel your plans, knowing how excited you were about planning a few days for the two of you to spend some time alone together—away from the world, away from everyone. In all honesty, it was what he was looking forward to the most. He knew Formula One was different, that he would be busier than he ever had been in his life, but it never prepared him to be away from you for so long.

So yeah, he was pretty fucking bummed about having to cut the trip out of his plans but he invited you with him to Amsterdam in hopes the two of you could make the best out of a bad situation.

After all, Zak had only wanted them for a day or two, to just sit in meetings and play up some charm and confidence to give the sponsor the last push they needed to sign the deal with McLaren.

And, by some luck you swore was from a higher power, the deal had been negotiated and signed after a very long, tedious meeting.

But Oscar didn’t complain, he couldn’t complain when it meant that he would have more time alone with you in a country he never really had the chance to explore beyond the race tracks and most famous sites.

It just seemed like Lando had a similar idea.

“I got the perfect place to check out,” Lando insisted as they walked out of the busy office building they had been stuck in for the last few hours. “Martin recommended it, said it was insane and a necessity to check out when we were in the city.”

Oscar tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, but the boy’s words had him intrigued. “And he’s never taken you before?”

“Said it was best to visit in the off-season,” Lando replied, and the smile spread across his face did little to reassure Oscar’s suspicions about the mysterious place. “Bring your girl too! She will love it, Oscar. You both will.”

He raised his brows. “And you’re not going to tell me?”

“Be a little adventurous, Piastri,” his teammate teased, lightly nudging his shoulder as they headed towards their team-appointed cars. “Dress nice. We leave at eight.”

“I haven’t even agreed to anything,” Oscar pointed out, but the Brit didn’t seem all too bothered as he waved his teammate off before climbing into his car.

Truthfully, it shouldn’t have surprised Oscar that you were up for the night out. Lando’s mysterious words intrigued you as much as they intrigued him, and you both trusted Lando enough that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to drag you somewhere dodgy. Hopefully.

So, Oscar tried to push away the voice in the back of his head that said he should have asked more questions. He was a Formula One driver, he was used to control, he was used to always being the one in charge of his own fate. It felt weird to leave everything in the hands of Lando, even if he trusted his teammate more than he did with most people in his life.

“Relax,” you murmured to him as you stepped between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders as he waited for Lando to message he was waiting downstairs. “It’s one night.”

“I know, I’m excited,” Oscar answered honestly as his hands rested on the back of your thighs, trying not to think about the pretty, little dress you had slipped on for the night. He could have sworn he had never seen it before. A part of him was tempted to cancel the whole night and stay in to truly appreciate the dress. “It’s just the idea of Lando being in charge of everything…”

“Hm, you say that as though you don’t worship the ground he walks on,” you teased, smiling in amusement at the way his cheeks burned pink.

“I do not!” Oscar grumbled, but he was smiling back. “Okay, I do a little. But it’s Lando…he’s my first teammate in Formula One. He is just—”

“I know,” you murmured with a smile, leaning down to peck his lips. “And he cares about you. So relax and trust the fact that he was excited to check this place out with you.”

The place in question—the one that Martin insisted Lando needed to check out—turned out to be something straight out of a Bond movie.

Oscar hadn’t even managed to catch the name when Lando had muttered it to their driver, a giddy smile on his face as he turned back to look at you and Osacr in the back seat. He was excited, buzzing in his seat as he rambled off about random topics could barely even keep up with as he watched the city pass by in a blink through the window.

It was an exclusive club, not very well-known but a local treasure to those who knew of it. One of those places in movies where you knocked on a steel door and grumbled out a password. The kind of places that you expected to feel dodgy and cautious and like you were making the biggest mistake for stepping into the establishment. One of those places that two high-profile athletes should definitely never be caught in.

But Lando just turned to him, that stupidly huge grin on his face as he threw an arm over his shoulder and dragged him inside.

“Relax, Piastri, nobody is gonna care who you are in here!”

And honestly, the thought shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was to him.

But despite the many warnings he received about stepping up as a Formula One driver, Oscar never really wrapped his head around how famous he was. He had his fair share of internet spotlight on him throughout his career, he was used to being recognised every once in a while. But being a Formula One driver—a McLaren one, nonetheless—was a whole new level.

People stopped him in the streets and asked for photos. His face was blasted on huge posters in airports and cities he hadn’t visited before. Every aspect of his life was constantly under a microscope now. He had fans and followers all around the world, not just from his home country. He had a level of fame he couldn’t even conceptualise.

He had a level of fame he wasn’t even sure he wanted.

His whole life he just wanted to drive. He just wanted to get behind the wheel and achieve the dream he had been chasing after since he was a young boy. He just wanted to do what he loved, what he had been passionate about since before he could even remember.

It just came in a package deal with having more attention that he preferred, so the very idea of stepping foot into this exclusive club and nobody caring he was Oscar Piastri? Yeah, that sounded really fucking good.

Your arm wrapped around his biceps as you followed the Brit deeper into the club. It was dark—darker than a usual club—with red-tinted lights surrounding the place, adding a soft hue that was just enough to see a few steps ahead of you. The music thumped through the building, like the bass lived in the walls as it sounded throughout the place.

There was no bar. And the dance floor wasn’t really a dance floor. It felt like a stage, placed right in the middle of the room for people to ogle and observe. The whole place was surrounded in these dimly lit booths, large enough that they almost felt like a room.

The whole place was fucking weird and nothing like he expected.

And maybe that was what thrilled Oscar about the whole situation.

“Where do we order our drinks?” He had asked as they made their way to the far left corner, the furthest place from the door. The surrounding booths were empty but Lando still chose the one right in the corner as he flopped down onto the large cushioned sofas.

He watched as you and Oscar took the seat across from him as he grinned.

Oscar raised his brows.

“We are in fucking Amsterdam,” Lando snorted, something glinting in his eyes that even the dim, red lights seemed to pick up. “You don’t come here to get shit-faced drunk, Oscar.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You brought us to your dodgy club to get stoned?”

“Best in the city, baby,” Lando said, the smile on his face widening as he leaned back against the cushions, comfortable and settled with his legs spread a little wider than he usually would. “A little birdie told me Oscar was the kind of man you wanted to smoke with.”

Oscar raised his brows. “You sound surprised by that.”

“Let’s just say there aren’t many sides to you that I don’t think I’ve already seen,” Lando answered with a simple shrug before he raised his hand, catching the attention of a waitress Oscar didn’t even notice was walking by.

And maybe it was immoral. Or sneaky. Or whatever you wanted to call it.

Maybe it wasn’t the most truthful way to experience it but Lando Norris was a fucking curious man and the opportunity fell right into the palm of his hand. Because Logan Sargeant’s words had been ringing in his head like a loop since that night in the club, his eyes being opened to a whole new side of his younger teammate and he wanted to see more.

He wanted to know who Oscar Piastri was under all the layers he seemed to put up when he was sober.

And with the team dragging them to Amsterdam and Martin having told him about this club with the assurance that it suddenly wouldn’t be plastered over the front page in the morning that they were indulging in recreational drugs before the season started…well, Lando couldn’t just ignore it, could he?

It wasn’t noticeable at first and, for a brief moment, Lando wondered if the American was just pulling his leg about the whole situation. He wondered if Logan had just seen his shock to clingy, touchy Oscar when he was drunk and needy and thought it would be hilarious to just add fuel to the fire that night for his own amusement.

Because one joint in and Oscar seemed like he had hours ago in the meeting room, dressed in a fancy suit and looking slightly out of his comfort zone.

But time passed and the edges of his own brain began to feel fuzzy, and Lando started noticing it. He noticed the way Oscar seemed to squirm in his seat, the way his eyes lingered on your mouth as you took a drag from the joint. He noticed the way Oscar’s arm had dropped from around your shoulder to his hand firmly being placed on the bare skin of your thigh instead. He watched as Oscar pressed his body close to yours until there wasn’t an inch of your side that wasn’t touching his.

And then, Oscar was leaning in, his lips skimming past your ear and instantly dropping to your neck like he didn’t even care Lando was there.

Lando couldn’t even bring himself to feel all that guilty as he watched the display, something deep in his gut twisting in desire.

Your eyes fluttered shut as the boy’s lips latched onto your neck, a small sigh leaving your lips as he began to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His hand squeezed your thigh, gripping onto it like it was a lifeline as he continued to kiss lower and lower until his lips were brushing against the fabric of your dress.

“Oscar,” you murmured as you raised your hand, fingers threaded through his hair but the boy didn’t stop as he nosed the edge of your dress, his lips dangerously close to your cleavage.

“Want you,” the Aussie murmured, something like a whine sounding from the back of his throat as he nipped the fabric with his teeth. “Please.”

“Baby,” you choked out a noise, your eyes snapping open like you finally seemed to remember Lando was there. You felt breathless as your eyes met his, the dim light making it difficult to read the expression on his face but you could have sworn you saw something quite like desire in his gaze. “Lando is—”

“Not complaining,” the Brit finished for you, his voice a little rougher and even he wasn’t sure if it was from the smoking or the sight in front of him.

Oscar blinked as he lifted his head, his cheeks flushed and his eyes a little red. He looked at you before he shifted his eyes to Lando, his gaze dragging over his teammate. He should have removed himself from you, should have pulled his hand away and slid away—but he remained exactly where he was.

“Don’t be shy, Oscar,” Lando murmured, and something in the Aussie’s chest sparked. “You wanna touch your girl, then who am I to stop you from making her feel good.”

“You gonna watch?” Oscar asked.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lando retorted.

“No.”

Lando’s smirk slowly widened. “Yeah? You two gonna put on a little show for me?”

Oscar blinked before he turned to look at you. His whole body felt like it was on fire, like there were flames coursing through his veins and burning him alight and he never wanted to stop. But as he looked at you, eyes glossy or not, one word from you and he would stop this whole thing, regardless of his own feelings on the matter.

You were his first priority. You were always his first priority.

“You wanna, baby?” He murmured, just low enough for it to only be heard by the two of you.

“I think,” you swallowed thickly as your eyes traced over your boyfriend’s face, as the bubbling desire and strong urge to clench your legs together washed over you with the heat of Lando’s gaze on you. “It would be the polite thing to do.”

Oscar tucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Show him how good you make me feel,” you murmured as his grip on your thigh tightened in response.

And when you couldn’t resist anymore, your eyes snapped over to where Lando was sitting. There was something thrilling about the sight, something your fuzzy brain couldn’t begin to comprehend but your body sure as hell did. There was something about him sitting across from you both, legs spread and eyes focused on the two of you as he watched in silent appreciation.

It felt dirty. It felt wrong. It felt like the last thing the three of you should be doing in a random club in Amsterdam. And yet, none of you wanted to stop.

Lando watched in delight the way a choked gasp left your lips as Oscar tugged the neckline of your dress down, as his lips attached to the newly exposed skin. Your hand moved back to thread through his hair, tugging softly as he pulled your dress down until your tits were exposed.

He watched as Oscar let out a groan at the sight, as his lips wrapped around your nipple. He watched as your head fell back, your boyfriend’s name a breathy moan past your lips as he continued to nuzzle himself between your tits.

“Would’ve never taken you as a tits man, Oscar.” Lando’s voice was rough and low, something that shouldn’t have made the whole situation hotter but it did. “Can’t blame you though, can I? Your girl has such pretty tits, would be a crime to ignore them.”

A whine sounded from the back of Oscar’s throat.

Lando’s eyes fell from your flushed face to the hand on your thigh. He watched as Oscar continued to push the hem of your dress further up until he got impatient and allowed his hand to slip beneath the skirt. He watched as Oscar groaned something incoherent against your skin, as you shifted your hips enough for him to pull your panties down your legs with a speed that was almost impressive.

He hardly had time to blink before he felt the soft thump against his leg, as he looked down to see your panties balled up and now resting on his lap after Oscar had thrown them.

Lando let out a dark chuckle, his head falling back. “You little shit.”

But Oscar didn’t pay him any attention. Oscar didn’t pay attention to anything but you and the feeling of you beneath his lips and touch. His brain was fuzzy, his thoughts were muddled and all he knew was that he really, really fucking wanted to taste you.

Yet, you didn’t seem to share Oscar’s one-track mind.

“Not fair that we’re the only ones who get to have fun,” you murmured, your eyes watching him closely as Lando eyed the pair of panties, seeming to contemplate so many racing thoughts in his head before he reached for them. “Maybe I want a show too.”

Lando’s eyes found yours in the dark. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” it was a little high-pitched as Oscar’s thumb pressed against your clit. “Yeah. Please.”

He let out a groan. “Still so fucking polite when he is all over you.”

You weren’t even sure where the spark of confidence came from—maybe from the way he was watching you and Oscar so eagerly—but your mouth opened before you could stop yourself. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

You swallowed thickly, your fingers tugging on Oscar’s hair as you watched Lando’s hand drop to the obvious bulge in his pants. “Of who?”

His smirk widened. “Both.”

“Shit,” you whispered, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaving your lips as you tore your eyes away from the older driver before your whole body burned up.

“Look what a good boy he is,” Lando commented, watching as Oscar littered soft kisses all over your chest and collarbone as his fingers pressed small circles against your clit. “Barely even touched you and he’s humping the sofa.”

Oscar’s cheeks burned hot.

“Bet he’s obedient,” Lando continued as the sound of a zipper echoed through the booth, as the rustling made it clear to both of you what he was doing. “Such a good listener, aren’t you, Oscar? Just wanna make everyone happy, hm? A team player.”

Oscar finally lifted his head, his eyes glossed over like he was drunk off lust and desire alone.

“You gonna listen to me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Gonna do what I say?”

He nodded again, his eyes locked on the way Lando palmed himself over his boxers with one hand as he held your panties in the other.

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Get between her legs, baby, I know you’ve been dying for a taste of her probably since she put on that lil’ number.”

And Lando was right. He was obedient. It was almost like his body was moving under a spell as he shifted, as he slid off the couch and settled on his knees on the carpeted floor instead. It should have felt wrong to have his back to Lando, but instead the idea that the boy’s eyes were locked on him whilst he touched himself (even if Oscar couldn’t see) thrilled him more than it should have.

His hands palmed your thighs before he slowly spread your legs, as he pushed the fabric of your dress until it pooled at your hips and exposed you. A whimper left Oscar’s lips as he tugged you closer to the edge, as one hand pushed your thigh back whilst the other guided your leg over his shoulder.

He looked up at you, his cock twitching in his pants at the silent plea in your eyes for him to do something, to give you what you wanted just as bad as him. And his eyes never left your as he leaned down, tongue pressed against your soaked cunt as he licked upwards in one thick, broad stroke.

“Fuck!”

Lando couldn’t help himself as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, as he squeezed the length of himself before pulling his cock free of any restraints.

Lando couldn’t help himself as the hand fisting your panties wrapped around his cock, as he let the lacy fabric run against his sensitive tip and resisted the urge to buck his hips.

Lando couldn’t fucking help himself as he stroked his cock, his eyes locked on the way you panted and moaned and grasped the cushions around you as Oscar worked between your legs.

A part of him wanted to get up, to close the distance between him and you both. He wanted to walk over, he wanted to thread his fingers through Oscar’s hair like you had done before and guide him. He wanted to watch the boy lick and kiss and suck your needy cunt until his face was dripping. He wanted to whisper just what a good fucking boy Oscar really was as he made you come, as Lando watched you come.

But the other part of him liked this—this twisted sense of power. He liked the fact he could sit back and watch, like it really was a show you two were putting on for him. He liked the idea that this went beyond something any of you understood, the way the two of you were so eager and pliant and obedient for him.

He liked that he could sit back, your wet panties fisted around his cock as he watched the two of you moan and squirm and desperately try and look pretty for him.

And you did. You both looked so, so pretty for him.

And you sounded so pretty too when you moaned out his name instead of your boyfriend’s. The way your back arched off the couch, your face scrunched up in pleasure as Oscar held your hips down. The way Lando could hear the way his teammate was groaning against your pussy, see the way his hips shifted like he desperately needed some friction against his aching cock.

It was the prettiest fucking sight Lando had ever seen.

“That’s it, baby,” Lando groaned. “Come for Oscar, let him taste you, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly, far too lost in your own pleasure to even understand what he was saying.

“Bet you’re so fucking hard,” Lando continued, his eyes locked on the way the muscles in his back shifted through his shirt. “Bet you could come just from hearing her moan, huh?”

The whine Oscar let out told Lando everything he needed to know.

“That’s it,” Lando groaned, his fist tightening around his cock as he felt his stomach clench as he neared the edge, as he neared his own orgasm. “Gotta finish the show f’me, hm? Gonna be good for me, yeah?”

You chanted out Oscar’s name as you finally came, shaking and squirming as he held your body against the cushions and continued to suck on your sensitive clit. And when you couldn’t take any more, you lightly pushed his head away to see his expression: flushed cheeks, hooded eyes and glossy lips that you wanted to kiss so bad. But a shifting movement caught your eyes, your gaze moving down to look at the dark patch spread across the front of his boxers.

“Just tasted so good,” Oscar murmured, not even ashamed or embarrassed at the mess he made.

And then your eyes shifted to look at the boy across the room.

He leaned back against the cushions, his chest moving up and down with soft pants. His trousers were pushed down to pool mid-thigh, his boxers just above them and his cock was still fisted in his hand, covered by your panties and his own come. It shouldn’t have been so attractive.

“I think I prefer this Oscar much better than drunk Oscar,” Lando eventually commented, something quite like a smug grin on his face as he looked between you both.

There was a tension in the room, one that none of your fuzzy brains could really grasp onto just yet. But it was there and it was overwhelming and suffocating and you each had half the mind to hope this night never ended.

You didn’t know what would happen after tonight, but you knew until then, the hidden club in the depths of Amsterdam would keep your secret—the secret that maybe all three of you wanted something more than a night fuelled by lust and weed.

1K notes · View notes

joonsytip · 7 months

Text

Withering for You || Seungcheol - Part 1

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): Seungcheol is the biggest meany, crying, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, everything is on rocks, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though)

Word Count: 6.5k

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao (idk how I'd survive without you) <3

A/N: I'm back after a break, thanks for being patient.

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

You see his face everywhere. He's on every billboard accross the city, on every magazine's cover page or the advertisements shown on giant LEDs.

Since the CEO of Choi Enterprise, unarguably the continent's best interior designing company, stepped down, the position was acquired by his son, Choi Seungcheol.

The enigmatic, quintessential, charismatic Choi Seungcheol. Who also happens to be your ex. Who's also the man you're on your way to meet. Make it make sense, you both have given a nod to your families to meet up for the prelim talks of marriage.

Your parents had been nagging you constantly to settle down and for every match they brought in, you wouldn't even blink an eye to reject the person. When asked the reason to their surprise, you always had some valid points to add in the books of rejection.

So when one afternoon you received a call from your father, surprisingly, requesting you to get home from earlier, you had never expected to see both of your parents distressed about a match that came in. When they slid the photo to you across the table you froze.

It was a picture of Seungcheol, his face wearing an expression everyone would take for being a lookup but somehow you felt his eyes were strained mockingly at you, as if he took that shot only for you.

"W-What does this mean?", the first question, when you are finally able to tear your eyes from the photo.

"Your matchmaking profile somehow got to the Choi's and they agreed to meet for talks--"

You're cutting off your mother, "No way Seungcheol would be agreeing to do this."

"It was Seungcheol.", your father's statement stuns you, "For what I've heard is it's only Seungcheol, who had agreed on this."

It took you a whole week to decide on it. A whole lot of contemplation and hesitation before you made up your mind to go for it. Roles reversed, your parents were hell bent on not letting you meet the Choi's because frankly they were no stranger to your past with Seungcheol's.

So now here you are, along with your parents standing in front of the 'Ritz Esplaza', one of the subsidiary hotels owned by the Choi's, the most exquisite one in the country as well.

When you had made up your mind, you had also mentally prepared yourself for all the attacks you knew you are going to face because no way Seungcheol is doing this with the motive of actually settling down with you happily. But since fate has given you another chance, you'd definitely try your best to hold in that man who holds onto your heart.

"Are you sure?", asks your father, concern evident in his voice. You give him a firm nod and walk into the building. Your anxious eyes watch you pass the floors one by one inside the elevator until it's your stop. When the door opens, you take a deep breath and walk out.

When was the last time you saw Seungcheol? Was it the day of graduation? Maybe it was at a party hosted by a common friend? Or was it the day you tore him apart? You couldn't remember clearly.

Seungcheol is people magnet. He's pleasant on eyes and he is the most sought after bachelor of the country.

As soon as you enter the lounge, you are lead into the executive room. And as soon as you step in, everything fades away except for the pair eyes on which your gaze locks.

Time has definitely done good to Seungcheol. The pictures don't do justice to how beautiful he actually is. You let your eyes linger on him. You notice the puffiness of his cheeks is now gone, his nose and jawline being sharper, his build strauter, physique drool worthy but what about him hasn't changed are his eyes. He has still those beautiful deep eyes those carry the entire universe in them.

But those eyes which had love filled in them for you once, are now looking at you condescendingly.

Awkward smiles and glances are exchanged before everyone takes their seat. As easy as to decipher it is, none of the parents are okay with this predicament. They can't comprehend why their children would put themselves into such a thing, a marriage without love but despise, hatred and pettiness.

No one makes an effort to initiate the conversation and as you sit anxious under Seungcheol's unwavering gaze which starts to creep onto your skin. When enough, you stand up, a loud screech of your chair erupting the air and look into his eyes as you say, "I want to have a talk with you in private."

Seungcheol smirks, eyes making a sumptuous roll as he gets up without a word and walks towards another room, having you follow him.

You enter, closing the door behind you. Seungcheol sits on the couch, unspeaking. As silence looms over again, you understand that Seungcheol doesn't have an ounce of interest in striking any kind of conversation with you.

Before unsettling thoughts could engulf you once more--

"Why did you agree to marry me, Seungcheol?"

The said man's lips curl up in a smirk as his snark respond comes to bite you, "I didn't agree. I chose to marry you, Y/N."

You shudder under his presence yet once more tonight.

"Why?", comes out your strained voice with a heavy question that you both know loomed since the beginning.

"Why are you here?", he questions back, "You could have said no. I believe no one has forced you to be here", he snides, "No one could ever force a manipulative woman like you."

There's an answer that's at the tip of your tongue which you don't want to let out because you know it would hold no value to Seungcheol.

"Let me guess?", he rubs his chin as if thinking, "For status or for money, maybe both? Habits die hard afterall."

Your ability to speak is snatched from you and it's a given that Seungcheol certainly won't stop degrading you anytime soon. But that's what, you know, you're mentally prepared but also you're not.

The same Seungcheol who'd have once fought the whole world for you, has become the person who'd slice you down with the thinnest thread mercilessly.

You agreed to marry Seungcheol because you think life has given you another chance to set things right.

Seungcheol agreed to marry you just to make your life miserable.

"Are you on IUD?", he asks off track and you gape at him shocked.

When you don't answer he continues, "I can book you an appointment whenever you're free this week to get it done."

Your whisper of a meek 'why' is met by another snarky response, "You surely know why. The major one accounts as your devotion to me as a wife."

Honestly, when his secretary who's also a close friend to him showed Seungcheol your profile on a matchmaking app, his mind squared on making a sick joke just to test your audacity. Never did he thought that you actually be willing to even meet him. Again, you are shameless and greedy, he knew that, so was he really surprised?

Seungcheol with every nerve in his body is trying to test your temper and patience. He wants you to admit defeat, wants you to scratch that ridiculous idea of marrying him because he knows how pathetic of a living being you are. He knows you for the real you.

You with every nerve in your body are, will try to make this work. To mends things, to love once again. You too know Seungcheol for the real him, so you're adamant to make this marriage work.

"Book me an appointment on Wednesday.", you say confidently, "And we're going to have the wedding, Seungcheol."

"Oh well, I'm aware of your determination", Seungcheol says with a tinge of annoyance, "But, take it as an warning, I'm not gonna let you have it smooth. I would be your husband only on the papers and in front of the cameras.", the smirk finds it's way back on his lips, "You'd just be a trophy wife for showcase, you'd only be someone to warm my bed. You get the status, fame and money but...", he stops all at once.

You finish it for him, "Love. I'll gain your trust. Consider it as my redemption, my repentance to the wrong I did you. I'll make it right, I hope you'll find it in yourself to love me again."

Seungcheol's face contorts as if he has heard the most ridiculous joke ever. As the memories of past continuous to become vivid in the back of his mind, he decides to leave the room, leave you behind.

He promises himself to never let you breathe peacefully, he promises he'd make you beg him for divorce within months of wedding. As the corner of his eyes gets wetter, he promises, he'd pay you back all the heartbreaks you had given him.

As soon as the wedding is finalized, a dedicated PR team of the Choi's releases the statement, rather an announcement of what everyone is calling as the 'wedding of the year'.

Your father too runs a company which was build solely by him, but on scale, your and Seungcheol's families nowhere collided in the terms of riches. Maybe the social circle would allow both the families to gather under a hall sometimes but that was rare and the Choi's had been entitled to the top tier.

So people are curious. Curious about who's the country's most eligible bachelor getting married to. Who are you? How are you getting hitched to Seungcheol when there are the richest of heiresses lining up to getting linked to the Choi's? The whole nation is curious and everyone is trying to dig up information on you two.

However, the PR team is always a step ahead, so before the announcement was made, any source of information that could have caused any sense of discomfort or a scratch on either of you and anyone linked to you both was suppressed, rather buried.

"I can't believe she agreed to do this."

"She's basically digging her own grave."

You eyes move back and forth as the two of your best friends converse about you in your presence, also ignoring your presence.

"And to think Seungcheol wouldn't even allow us in the wedding... He'd kill us as soon as his eyes would land on us..."

"Imagine not being able to attend your best friend's wedding..."

"Mingyu, Eunsoo, stop.", you say calmly, "I'm already stressed enough, so please stop."

Mingyu gets up to take a seat beside you. He doesn't speak, just strokes your hair. You lean onto his shoulder closing your eyes.

"Does Chan knows about it yet?"

You jolt up and sit straight at Eunsoo's question.

"No. He's overseas for sealing a deal.", you tell them, "Also, mom & dad already raised their hands up, so I'll have to inform him myself."

"Well goodluck honey, knowing his temper... it's just worries me.", Eunsoo adds solemnly.

You three sit on silence for some moments before Eunsoo speaks up again, "I'm still skeptical about this whole thing. I mean you both met and made things clear with Mr. Choi but I don't trust that man, knowing what he's capable of doing."

"He is no threat, Eunsoo.", you affirm, "And that is why I agreed to this marriage."

Mingyu who has been listening to the conversation quietly, speaks up taking your hands into his, "Y/N, I can understand why you are doing this. But we know that he's gonna make it so hard for you, not his fault though, he's been scarred.", his hands now lifts up to caress your cheeks, "What I'm trying to say is, if you're going into it then go for it wholly. Don't be defeated, conquer it. Don't give up easily, like last time. Don't let the love of your life go when you got another chance."

You nod wordlessly hugging Mingyu and Eunsoo takes the chance to wrap herself around you both.

Seungcheol laughs in disbelief as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. He thinks that it's a dream, him being about to marry you, the woman he loathes the most. He's sure that it's a nightmare.

He's only doing this wedding with revenge on his mind. With the only motive to make you suffer, to humiliate you.

He's uninterested about the whole wedding thing, which shows. When you had the audacity to ask him to accompany you to the clinic for getting IUD on, he had blurted out a no before hanging up the call. When you had the audacity one more time to ask him to accompany you to meet the patisserie for finalizing on the wedding cake he had declined you then as well. Everytime you asked him to meet to decide on something, he would produce some snarky remarks while rejecting your proposal.

When you see Wonwoo waiting outside your house once again, you roll your eyes.

"I can do it all by myself.", you said unimpressed, crossing over your arms, standing infront of the man, "Just go. I'm tired of explaining people that you aren't the groom."

"Cheol doesn't trust you or your choices at all, neither do I.", Wonwoo says with all menace in his tone, "Plus being his secretary, I'm bound to follow his orders."

Wonwoo as said by the man himself, is Seungcheol's secretary as well as one of his closest friend since university. He was close to you as well once but now he, like his friend, loathes you equally.

You sigh when Wonwoo opens the car door. Another long day you think because Wonwoo has a habit of nitpicking and you're sure the two of friends scheme a strategy everyday to test your patience and defy you as much before stepping out for the day.

Another long day, you think.

The only time you manage to get Seungcheol rather it's Seungcheol informing that you both have a photoshoot together for a magazine. He meets you for an hour to go through over the script that you are supposed to lie through when asked about.

How did you both meet? Same University then lost contact at some point. Is it love marriage or an arranged marriage? Arranged turned love marriage. How did you both fell in love? You both met at a Gala and sparks reignited, then a whole lot of dates. Who proposed? You did, because during one cozy movie night when Seungcheol promptly danced with you on 'Somewhere we belong', you realised where exactly you belonged.

During the shoot, the proximity is what chokes you both. The lovely dovey act, flirty looks and touchy poses had you both, mostly Seungcheol feels suffocated.

Because you want it to be real but Seungcheol wants none of it.

You already know, so during the breaks and slot gaps for costume changes, you try not to be in the periphery of his vision. Which really doesn't work because the whole team is gushing how beautiful of a pair you are and keep on trying to push you two into proximity as much as they could. The shoot goes well, so does the interview because you believe everyone bought the lies you two fed.

When the magazine is released, you two instantly become the trending topic of the nation. You both are literally anywhere and everywhere. People are stanning, people are jealous, people are feeling the love.

It's new for you because your family have always tried to avoid the spotlight and for the Choi's, spotlight is almost an eternal part.

Your phone within your hand rings and you freeze. Taking a deep breath, you recieve the call. There's an ominous silence, no one speaks.

"Hello, Chan?", you speak, deciding to terminate the wait. You hear a shaky breathe then a sigh.

"I'm sorry you had to know this way.", you whisper into the phone sadly, "I didn't know how to tell you."

A beat of silence again before Chan speaks, "There's no way stopping this, ain't it?"

You shake your head knowing he won't be able to see it but Chan gets it nonetheless.

"I'm returning.", he informs, "Get me at the airport on Thursday? That's the earliest flight I could avail."

Concern washes over you, "You don't need to Channie. I know how much work is important--"

"Not more than you.", Chan cuts you off, "Nothing is more important than you. See you soon."

"See you.", you echo before hanging up.

Your chest becomes heavy, suddenly everything feels uncertain. There's a turmoil within that makes you wanna run. Runaway from everything.

But you can't. And you won't.

You call Seungcheol assuming he won't pick up as what he usually does. So after five rings when you're about to hang up, his voice reaches you from the other side.

"What?", he says and you could figure that he's tired.

"Are you free tomorrow?", you ask him hopefully, "Just to remind you, tomorrow's afternoon slot is booked for picking our wedding attires."

"I don't see why we need to go together. You go pick your dress, I'll go pick mine when I feel like.", Seungcheol reasons.

You expected exactly that, so you sort to pleading, "Please, it's my request. I haven't requested you the other times but please please just this once. I beg you.", you end up blurting out in a breath.

"No.", he flatly denies.

"Please, just for tomorrow. Promise I won't pester you again. Please Seungcheol."

He seems to contemplate for some moments before making up his mind.

"Fine.", he says and hangs up.

A wide smile splits on your lips, as you do little fists in air in pure joy. It's so important for you because you want Seungcheol to be the one choosing your wedding gown because once he wanted to do it.

"When we get married, please let me choose the wedding gown.", Seungcheol says with a fond smile, "You'd look so gorgeous in all of them, making it difficult for me."

You wrap your hands around his arm as you ask amused, "Why do you need to do it if it's so difficult?"

He looks at you with all the love in his eyes. He tucks the stray lock of hair behind your ear as he answers, "Because it'll be a privilege to fall for you again and again."

You bite your lips to stop the tears that pool in your eyes when he kisses you the next moment.

Next morning you wake up to Mingyu and Eunsoo both blowing up your phone, just to convince you to let them join you to the boutique and you angrily huffing out a 'that's a given! ofcourse you both would come!'

But the catch is they'd both come after Seungcheol leaves because they both have a fear of their dear lives.

It's afternoon and you're calling Seungcheol because you're in the botique waiting for him and he's late. Seungcheol is punctual, it's weird not having him present here already the moment you reached. He isn't picking up the calls or responding to your texts.

It's been half an hour already, you're anxious as you try to not let the ominous thoughts consume you. Suddenly you hear some commotion outside of the fitting room and expect that it's Seungcheol who'd walk in.

You're disappointed when you see Wonwoo. Your eyes search behind him though in anticipation but no one comes in.

"Where's Seungcheol?"

Wonwoo senses the distress in your voice and it should give him the satisfaction but this time it doesn't.

"He can't make it.", Wonwoo says as he avoids eyes contact.

"Why?"

"Something important came up."

"What exactly, Wonwoo?", you ask gritting your teeth, "What can be more important than this?"

Wonwoo clears his throat, looking everywhere but you, "Jiah is returning from Australia today and she wanted Cheol to pick her up."

Your heart drops. Ofcourse out of all days Jiah would return today and at this time. That trust fund woman would do anything in her will to stop this wedding. Jiah is Seungcheol's best friend who's in love with him and everyone knew except Seungcheol and it was tad obvious. You both never got along for obvious reasons.

And though you're aware but it still hurts to see Seungcheol choosing Jiah over you.

Wonwoo never got along with Jiah as well because she's plain irritating and judgemental and all other bad adjectives one could think of.

"You can go Wonwoo. I'll do it by myself.", you fail to say it firmly, your voice cracks.

He really feels bad as he sees you trying to compose yourself. He wants to console you, wants to say he won't be a pain in ass today but you beat him.

"Please go.", you sound so defeated that Wonwoo doesn't find it in himself to defy it and walks out quietly.

You sit on the couch for some moments. Too early to be heartbroken you think, it's only the beginning and you're prepared to go hell and back to win over Seungcheol again.

Not spoiling your mood further, you quickly call Mingyu & Eunsoo who are sad to hear about Seungcheol not making it but also more than happy to come over to choose your wedding gown.

You certainly aren't the one who needs comforting, not when both of your best friends are almost bawling their eyes out in happiness each time you try a gown and show them.

The wedding date closes in and you wonder if Seungcheol even remembers it because he's absent and his absense is loud.

Your parents are actively participating in the preps but with unwillingness because they want you to be happy and they aren't sure if Seungcheol is the key to that.

So is Chan. He's stressed, worried and in rage for you, because of you.

"Why him?", Chan asks, "How can you even think of linking yourself to that family?"

You sigh, a long discussion ahead you're sure of that, "First of all, Seungcheol had nothing to do with all that. Second, I love him Chan, do I really need another reason?"

Chan scoffs, "But he hates you. And knowing how petty he always has been, I'm scared for you."

His voices quietens when he says, "You won't deserve any of it. I don't wanna see you hurt."

Your eyes get teary and you're hugging Chan. When his arms wrap around tighter you whisper, "I need to try Chan. Let me be selfish this one time. When things get rough you'll be the one to know. I know I always got you, my baby brother.", you smile pulling away.

"Whom are you calling a baby?", Chan huffs, his nostrils flaring dramatically but he returns the smile, "You always have me. I'm just a call away."

You nod, "So what are you getting me as wedding gift?"

"What made you think I'm gonna get you a gift?", Chan retorts, "No gifts since you're marrying that jerk."

You slap arm and he groans, "That's not how you address your brother in law!"

Chan gags at the mention and next he's getting his head locked between your arms.

"I go out of the country for two months and come back to you committing blunders.", Jiah scowls at Seungcheol.

The man in question doesn't seem to pay much attention as his eyes trace over the words in the document.

"Cheol, are you even listening?", Jiah hits the table surface with both her hands, demanding attention.

Seungcheol sighs and lifts his gaze to look at her. He then leans back and looks up at the ceiling as he speaks, "This is what is supposed to happen after all, isn't it?"

"Are you crazy?", Jiah howls in disbelief, "This was never supposed to happen, she was never the one for you as you claimed, which turned true and goodness it was such a great riddance unless you decided to bring that pathetic excuse of a human back into your life, nonetheless you're marrying her! You should--"

Seungcheol's glare practically shuts her up.

"I have work to do", he states plainly, "It's late, go home."

Jiah gets up and walks upto him. She places her on the handle of the chair and leans to run her hand over his chest.

"I could be such a good wife to you.", she whispers leaning in further, "Our statuses match, we've known each other since childhood. We compliment each other so well Cheol--"

Seungcheol holds her hands to remove them off his chest and turns his face to the other side.

"You're my best friend Jiah. I do love you but it has been always platonic."

Seungcheol was unaware of Jiah's feelings till late, until one night at the product launching party she had too many drinks which made her surprisingly courageous to confess her actually feelings for him. Seungcheol was shocked but being a gentleman he was, he had fully sobered up Jiah before rejecting her. Since then she has been open about her advances, never missing any chances.

Jiah fumes, her gaze is fiery, "So could marry a woman who cheated on you but you wouldn't marry your best friend?"

Seungcheol is ticked off at the mention of past, there's an instant burning in his chest as those painful memories flash at the back of his mind.

"We're done with the same discussion.", Seungcheol gets up and grabs his coat. He walks off and turns back when reaches the door, "I'm going to marry Y/N because I have some scores to settle with her and no one can stop the wedding from happening."

"I have been working on this piece for the last three months and almost got it done", Seungkwan pauses and looks at you with somewhat dull eyes, "But it's not giving me that satisfaction."

You could feel the hesitancy from your comrade and that worries you as well. Seungkwan is your friend from academy days. You had joined a music academy because of having a knack for musical instruments. That's when the realisation had gnawed on you that you'd rather do music and that's where you met Seungkwan who comes from a well established family as well. You had decided not to pursue the family business but rather pursue music. Though your parents were disappointed but they'd never compromise with your wishes so gradually they embraced it. Thanks to Seungkwan who had played a major role in convincing your parents as he had gone through that phase before you did.

Now you both are co-founders of the 'Melodease' music academy. You have always believed Seungkwan to be an prodigy, there are very less instruments that he doesn't knows of or can't play. But he masters in playing piano and your instrument, coin it as coincidence, is cello which goes best with Piano. You both complement each other well, the trophy cabinet in your academy says it all.

The academy is curated by the both of you with passion and care. The faculties, the students as well as the other staffs, all see you both with utter respect.

"You know you could directly ask me to dive in instead of saying these same lines everyday.", you roll eyes and hear a dramatic gasp.

"Stop over reacting, diva.", you speak out as soon as you see him open his mouth.

The diva in question just pulls a neutral expression like a switch flipped and gets straight to the point, "I need you to incorporate your part and well I'd suggest you to work towards the bridge. Just an opinion though, take your time and come up with something."

You nod and ask him, "Do you have to take anymore class today?"

"Nope but I do have to be somewhere today.", Seungkwan quickly adds, "So I'll be on my way now."

Your face falls and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. He steps closer and pays your head fondly, "Sorry Y/N, I'd have skipped it if I could but it's really important."

You squint eyes, "I didn't even say anything."

Seungkwan laughs and turns to collect his belongings, "And since when did you have to speak it out loud for me to get you?"

After Seungkwan bids you goodbye for the day, you pull out your phone and call Seungcheol knowing he won't pick up, unless you call him a minimum of five times. Still that isn't going to stop you so you're calling him and much to your surprise he picks up after a ring.

"I want to meet you.", that's the first thing you say.

"Why?", he asks monotonously.

"You'll know once we meet."

"Fine, meet me at my house in an hour.", he says and hangs up.

"So what did you want to talk about?", Seungcheol asks twirling the glass of wine between his fingers.

Your hands are laid flat on the door to ceiling windows, your eyes trace the busyness of the city that settles at the pit.

A long sigh escapes your lips before you speak, "We're getting married in two weeks."

Seungcheol doesn't respond.

Eyes still trained on the view infront, you say, "Do you really want this marriage, want it as much as I do?"

"I do want it and you very well know why.", Seungcheol scoffs, "And I very well know you want to marry me for my fame and status. You can feed people with all that you love me nonsense, I'll buy none of it."

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Marriages are not meant for revenge, Seungcheol. If we're gonna do it, let's do it right or not do it at all."

"Backing out was never an option, Y/N.", Seungcheol sets down the glass and walks up to you. Standing beside you now, his gaze strains on you. His octave drops as he speaks through gritted teeth, "I'll make you go through the hell that I have been through for all these years because of you. This marriage...", he snickers, "will never mean anything to me. I'll...", he closes you off between the window and himself, "I'll make you divorce me. You'll beg me to free yourself from this so called marriage."

You shudder under his presence as tears keep pooling at your eyes.

"Hope you'll have a change of heart.", you say through tears, "I hope you'd give us a chance."

Seungcheol infuriates upon hearing you, he punches the window glass but you don't flinch.

"Too bad, what you're hoping for would never be true because I know you too well.", and suddenly he backs up.

An ominous silence follows.

Too early to get heartbroken, you repeat again in your head as you grab your clutch and walk out his study, walk out of his house.

It's the big day and you know that nothing is alright but one thing that keeps you at bay is knowing how much Seungcheol wants this marriage to happen, the reason maybe completely different to yours, you can bet on not being left alone at the altar. Seungcheol won't bail out at least.

With all sorts of anything but pleasing thoughts, you are sitting in front of the vanity. Unarguably the wedding of the year, all the influential people of the country as well as from overseas would be gracing their presence. And that's where you are loosing it.

You have never liked the spotlight, always avoiding it. Still you were known well in the society not because of your family business, not as your parents daughter, rather as a musical genius and you are proud of it.

The thought of all those curious, envious and judging eyes that would target you as soon as you walk down the aisle is enough to make you sick.

There's a knock on the door and through the mirror you could see the source that would actually make you sick, Jiah walking in.

Before she could even speak, you cut her off saying, "Lend me a hand.", as you grab your beautiful wedding gown.

Jiah, though agitated, does as asked and when you're stood on your feet, you smirk at her.

"Oh you poor little thing, couldn't stop the wedding after all.", you tut, feigning sadness.

"Do you think your marriage would be relevant?", she fumes, "Seungcheol would never love you."

"Just because you got away with what you did years ago, don't assume you'd get away this time.", you threaten her, "Years ago your plan of breaking us up worked but for what?"

"You will--"

"Even after breathing on his neck for years, you couldn't do shit honey. Seungcheol is marrying me.", the smirk on your lips returns, "Oh and I have been wanting to do this for long since no one's here, I'll spare you some of your non existent prestige and do it now."

And before Jiah could comprehend you slap her hard across her face, strong enough that she stumbles to the side.

"How dare you!", Jiah screams holding her cheek.

"What are you gonna do?", you snicker, "complain to Seungcheol? Sure, go ahead and see if this could stop the wedding from happening."

You take your phone and walk to her, holding it up for a selfie which comes out nice, meaning you look beautiful.

"Get lost now.", you say going back on your seat, "I've wasted enough time on you my special day."

"You'll regret it, Y/N! Seungcheol would never be yours.", she snaps and utters some more nonsense but when you don't lend an ear to any of it and she stomps out.

Mingyu, Seungkwan and Eunsoo walk in some moments after Jiah walks out and you could see their comical expressions through the mirror.

"I have recorded all of it.", Seungkwan says proudly.

"Send it to us", Mingyu says and who is Seungkwan to deny it.

"I recorded what you did as well", Seungkwan says to Eunsoo.

"And what did you do?", you ask turning to look at her.

"Oh nothing she just tripped and fell down because I extended my leg when she was walking past me.", Eunsoo relays casually but you could see how proud she is.

You just smile and sit quietly. Your friends catch on to the mood shift and immediately aid you the comfort. Only after ensuring you're feeling better they leave to check on some arrangements.

It's almost time you think, the uneasiness that has settled at the pit of stomach never goes away.

"Aren't you marrying the love of your life? So what's with that long face?"

Your lips curl up instantly on hearing your brother's voice.

"You got Mom and Dad worried", Chan says lightly, "They sent me saying that it's looking like you're a moment away from breaking down."

"And what if I am?", you say looking down.

"Then cancel the wedding.", he says in a beat with utmost seriousness.

"But you won't do that. I know how strong willed you are.", he continues, "You'll get through all of it.", he caresses your back, "And you know if things get hard, you have us, always."

"Always.", you acknowledge and hug him.

"Let's get going lovely bride, it's time.", Chan says helping you get up and you hook your arm within his. He walks to the gigantic door where your father is standing.

When Chan tries to hand you over to your father for the walk, you don't unhook your arm and your father gets you so he's beside you, with your another arm hooked within his.

The door opens and the three of you walk in. People who know you, know that you are beautiful are taking in how breathtaking you appear to be. People who are seeing you for the first time are starry eyed. People who were unsure, envious are starting to accept that you do complement the nation's heartthrob, Seungcheol.

Your gaze grazes as you walk by. You shake your head at your mother softly when you see the tears falling from her eyes. Smile wide when Mingyu behaves like a puppy wagging his tail as he's beaming with Eunsoo trying her best to keep him at bay. You urge to roll eyes get stronger when Seungkwan mouths you something scandalous and in the next moment goes back to wiping his imaginary tears.

You had saved him for the last gaze because you knew once he's in your sight it, a gaze off from him would be impossible for you. And finally you look at him, your groom, the man who you'd call your husband, Seungcheol.

Not letting the disappointment get to you when you don't find him looking at you already, you reach the altar smiling.

There's an impeccable tension between Seungcheol and Chan and before any one of them could snap your father hands you over to Seungcheol and ushers off quickly with your brother.

It's nothing embarrassing you think, as you gape at Seungcheol. You never thought you'd get to see him this close, get to touch him again. He's close, so close that your heart is thumping. Your fingertips graze lightly as they are wrapped around his arm. You breathe in his scent that you have known so well.

Seungcheol is smiling as if he's so happy. That's enough to fool people but not you. You notice how all those smiles are not quite reaching his eyes, how he's tapping his foot, a habit of his when he's unmindful.

There's a strange vision in his eyes when he looks at you. He even suppresses the urge to roll his eyes when you take the vows. It irritates you but you have to have patience of a saint if you wanna conquer. It's not like you were not warned.

Once all the rituals are done and you are announced as husband and wife, the crowd chants for you both to kiss. You are so sure Seungcheol would find a way out and never kiss you--

Suddenly you're grabbed by your hips and before you can react, you are being kissed, kissed hard by Seungcheol.

You as in whole short circuit but the screaming crowd alerts you back to your senses and as you start to kiss him back he pulls away with smirk.

You cock your brow as you pull him forward by his bow tie and steal a quick kiss leaving him flabbergasted.

Seungcheol smiles leaning in and through gritted teeth he says,

"Welcome to hell, my wife."

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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chososluv · 6 months

Text

P L U G T O J I !

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: i just got the thinking about toji fucking you with a chain on and how drastically different he would be from plug!choso and well... she came out!

🏷 tags/warnings: smut. fem!reader, reader has vagina, black coded, big dick toji, pet names (ma, mamas, daddy) daddy is used as "hey zaddy" not in a ddlg kind of way, slight size kink bc toji is huge squirting, fingering, some degradation, toji being a meanie its why we love him. dom!toji, cervix touching, deepthroating, weed smoking, mentions of criminal activity, toji is as toxic ass mf, reader is a fly ass bitch, toji fucking you w the chain on cuz duhhhh! Also subject to be edited

✎₊˚ word count: 6.5k sorry i had a lot to say about plug!toji yall!

Plug!Toji who is drastically different than plug!choso from personalities and down to how you meet.

You were college girl and Plug!Toji is the king of the city you moved to. You two lived in separate worlds until you decided further education was not for you and dropped out. It wasn't the fact that you weren't making grades — you were on the dean's list the entire time you were there — but you suddenly felt bored. Destined for more, you submitted those drop out papers and felt instant relief knowing that was the right decision. Now that you had time to pursue something other than college, you started bouncing around jobs. Retail job here, customer service agent there, eventually you tried out being a bottle girl at a local luxurious nightclub after being referred through a friend of a friend. That decision led you to be tangled with the notorious Toji Fushiguro.

Plug!Toji flew back to the city on this particular day. He touched down and decided immediately he need to be fucked up with a pretty woman in his lap. He went to his penthouse condominium, ridding himself of his clothes to start a hot shower before he got ready to go to one of his favorite clubs.

The same one you happened to work at full time now

Plug!Toji waited for the shower to get hot when one of his trusted men, Gojo Satoru, sent him the details of the section booked, followed with a selfie of him and an unknown's stripper's ass, grinning really hard. Toji could only grunt out a small laugh, tossing his phone onto the counter and climbing into the shower.

Originally not scheduled, you picked up a shift that fateful night Plug!Toji arrived back in town. You wanted the extra cash — and needed to justify spending money on getting your hair done into a smooth silk press. Your hair was long and straight down your back, and you looked absolutely divine. You garnered more attention that night from both clients and coworkers. You only laugh off each compliment, saying thank you, before tossing the strands over your shoulder. You had time for nothing more. You were here to get your bag and go.

Absorbed in your bag chasing, you failed to notice Plug!Toji watching you from his section. Satoru had the section packed with a plethora of strippers and bottle girls but you were all he could find himself focused on. Strippers kept trying to get his attention but he shooed him away every time as he watched you bring a bottle to a table. He saw your gorgeous smile all the way from his section. He continued to watch you and he took a generous swig from the Hennessy bottle. He doesn't flinch as the dark brown liquid raced its way bitterly down his throat. He still didn't care. His only focus was on the pretty woman with the exuberant personality he saw from across the way. You.

"Wait, I think the Toji is staring at you." One of your coworkers peeped as you were walking to the bar to prepare another drop on a table. The other one looked over and saw the big brooding man staring shamelessly in your direction. She quickly looked back to the rest of you before joining in the confirmation.

"He's definitely looking this way, but could he really be staring at y/n?" The other asked, clearly not attempting to hide her jealousy and you laughed. You only shook your head, not even bothering to look at who they were talking about because again, you were here to get your bag and not fawn over men. Money was the only thing on your mind and these men had to prove they were worthy of your attention. The three of you approach the bar before you replied.

"Girl not you sounding like a damn hater," you checked her, "we'll revisit that comment later, but either way I have no idea who that man is." You continued as you watch the bartenders finish up the last touches on the bottles you were delivering. The girl only rolled her eyes.

"Even more reason why I hope he's not looking at you. You're too new around here and you getting all the high end clients-" You looked directly at your coworker.

"You worry about the wrong damn things. Focus on ya bag and maybe you won't be so hurt when someone new comes in and takes up your clients." You snapped, not bothered — or concerned — if customers heard. This coworker in particular had been testing you since you got here and were sick of the unwarranted attitude. The witnessing coworker whistled.

"Y/N got a point. Step ya pussy up and maybe you'll party with Fushiguro one day." She said, defending you and that was all you needed to hear. You heard her fix to say something else, but then your manager popped up next to you three. A big grin was on his face

"Ladies, Yuki is going to fill in for Y/N. Toji Fushiguro just bought Y/N for the rest of the night." You raised your eyebrow and turned to face your manager. You didn't even bother to sneak a glance at your hater coworker. You knew she was fuming but that wasn't your focus. You had a smile stretched across your lips.

"How much?"

"Shit, probably enough to pay off the remainder of your loans from school. I know I could go out and buy a car with the money he just offered off tip alone." He said honestly and that was all you needed.

Plug!Toji who watched your manager fill you in from a distance. He immediately got up from the section, not wanting to share you with anyone. He descended from the stairs with suave arrogance as if he owned the place. Shit, he pretty much did one way or another with the way he ran this city. Everyone ate out of his hand whether they knew it or not. He continued his descension and that's when you finally looked in his direction. You unknowingly clenched your fist when you settled on his face, the look of an adonis but eyes of something so evil and sinister. You felt the tides change in that moment and knew your world was about to shift tremendously.

Plug!Toji stalks up on you, towering over you and your manager. He offers his free hand that wasn't holding the Hennessy bottle. His hands are cold. . .

so why was your palm so hot when he held it?

"You're y/n?" you nodded, "you ever fucked with someone who could buy you fucking the world, pretty girl?" Toji asked, quickly inspecting your empty wrist and empty ring finger. Perfect. That meant it would easier for him to snatch you up if you didn't have anyone at home waiting for you.

"Nah, but I assume you're about to change that, Toji?" Your mouth moved before you could stop yourself. He could only smirk and he bit his lip as he looked at you up and down. Your manager sensed he was no longer needed and walked himself away as he felt the wad of cash in his pocket - courtesy of Toji bribing for your time.

"Had a feeling you had a mouth on you," he brought his lips close to your ear, "glad to know I was right." A shiver skated down your spine and you felt goosebumps prickle on your arms. You brought your face back to look at him, shooting him a mischievous grin and Toji felt something adjacent to love in that moment. A desire to have you to himself had grew even more. You leaned close to him and he brought his ear back down to you so you could speak clear into it.

"I'd love to know what else you suspect about me, Toji." You challenged, voice something sensual and thick with sultry honey. He traced a thumb over your knuckle and replied back.

"Careful with me, baby. I just might snatch you up and never bring you back." Toji warned. You probably should have took some time to think about what he was saying, but you felt high off this banter alone and wanted to do anything to keep it going. So, you licked your lips, stepped close to him and placed a testy hand on his stomach and spoke.

"What if I been waiting for you to come do that, Fushiguro?" You said. You removed your lips from his ear to capture the look in his eyes. Sensual darkness passed over and he grinned sinfully, that scar lifted at the corner of his mouth. You had only just fully realized how eerie he looked with it, but for some reason you wondered what it would be like if he let you licked it. . .

"Then," he broke your thoughts, "lets go ahead and get acquainted, baby. Whatcha say?" He questioned and you nodded. He smirked again and took a final swig of the Hennessy bottle. He looked to his left to see your coworker from earlier gawking at you two. He motioned her over, excitement came across her face as she thought she was joining in on you. However, Toji placed the empty bottle in her hand, patted her cheek, and shooed her away. He focused his attention back on you before witnessing the crestfallen look on her face. You couldn't even attempt to shoot her a fake sympathetic look because you started squealing.Toji literally snatches you up and takes you out of main room and to the lounge he faithfully rents out.

Plug!Toji who had you squeezing your legs tight as he carried you to keep your cunt from fluttering. The brute exhibit of his strength had you swoon as he balanced you with one arm. He took you to his favorite lounge where drinks and pre-rolled blunts were already waiting. He took a seat on the plush couch and you slid down next to him. He stared at you all over, not bothering to hide his wandering gaze. He stared at you for a few moments before he spoke.

"You smoke?"

Plug!Toji who offers you a blunt - to which you gladly take. Smoking on the shift with this handsome man? That's a dream come true. You take a couple puffs, barely coughing and Toji is impressed as you passed it back. He takes a hit before passing it back to you.

"You be smoking, huh baby?" He asked you. You chuckled, nodding as you take another generous hit. This time you stifle a small cough and he laughed at you.

"Yeah. It's how I decompress." You admitted, coughing again and he chuckled at you once again. He rubbed your back jokingly to help you through your fit.

"Can't smoke my shit like its regular baby this shit pressure." He said, taking another hit to hold the blunt for you. You rolled your eyes, looking at him to see he scooted closer to you. You felt the heat from his body waft off his and onto yours, words dissolved from your brain as you looked at his appearance appropriately. His all black outfit with a black tee, jeans, and shoes - a simple yet sexy monochrome moment. A thick gold herringbone chain draped around his neck to provide a pop of color and you couldn't stop yourself from wondering how the weight would feel on your face while he fu-

"What you looking at, y/n?" Toji asked, smirking at you once again as he caught you staring at him in deep thought. You subconsciously licked your lips as while staring at his chain and he felt compelled to call you out on it. You snapped from your gaze, trance lifted and your eyes shifted back to his. You only smiled.

“Your chain, daddy.” You teased and he shifted at the pet name that rolled off your tongue. He didn't even try to hide his sleazy ass grin.

“What about my chain, ma?” He took a final hit of the blunt, ashed the rest in the tray. Leaning back into the couch, he stretched out his legs and patted a broad hand on his lap. You knew this signal, and usually you ignore it but with Toji? You obeyed and got up to slide into his lap. You placed an arm around his shoulders to steady yourself against his frame. His broad arms circled around you and caged you in possessively. You sunk into his hold and then you spoke.

“It's pretty.” You reached up and your fresh manicure set brushed against the herringbone. He swallowed when he felt your nails scratch against his neck and he only stared at your face in the lounge lighting. He’s allowed to see your pretty complexion in this space, gorgeous set of pump lips, and lashes extended for days. Your eyes looked from the chain to see him staring at you. You smiled and tossed your hair over your shoulder.

“Want one?” He asked you, eyes flickering to your naked neck and picturing how a matching one would look on you. He thought about adding a T charm to it so people know you were his. A smile on his face when he thought about it but it looked like he was mirroring yours because you had also smiled.

“Maybe. What I gotta do for one?” You teased and played a dangerous game consciously. You played dumb, but you knew the whispers about Toji Fushiguro. He was the top boss of the city and he did highly illegal things. Too many of the people he was affiliated with were fighting charges and RICOS. And you had sat in the most dangerous man in the city’s lap, and flirted with him as if it were nothing.

When you look back on your behavior that night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you always knew you were secretly made for this kind of life with Toji.

“Let me take you out of here and I’ll show you everything you can do for me, pretty girl.”

Plug!Toji didn't need to ask you twice. You immediately left without telling any of the girls and your manager. You texted your roommate you would be out late and shared your location with a trusted best friend and that was as much as you did.

Plug!Toji met you out front. He grabbed your hand and led you to a vehicle, opening the door for you to the backseat of a sleek, black suv. The leather interior had you wondering how much it cost as Toji slid in the backseat with you. The driver greeted Toji and he responded with grunted instructions to go home.

“Ayo you know the rules. Don’t look back here. And shit with this one,” Toji looked at you, licked his lips, and wondered how yours would taste, “if you even think about looking back here i’ll cut those eyes out.” You didn't have time to register how serious Toji’s threat sounded because he placed his rough lips against yours. You immediately shut your eyes, melting into his lips and you felt immediately brazen enough to grab onto his t-shirt to bring him closer. Toji could only smirk against your lips, seeing how you were bold and never terrified to be in close quarters with him regardless of his criminal status. He only wanted you more that night.

Plug!Toji who didn't give a fuck his driver was less than a foot away and he pulled down the raunchy work top you wore. You gasped when his calloused fingers pinched at your hardened nipple. The action earned a twitch between your thighs.

"I been wondering how pretty these tits were since i saw you and i'm not disappointed. They real aint they?" Toji said against your lips, he paused kissing you to cast a gaze down at your breast. He saw the perky bunch prickle with goosebumps as your nipples stood at the cold air and stimulation. You only moaned at his compliment before you snaked your hand that was on his shirt to the back of his head to bring him closer, aching to devour his taste of mint and hennessey again. You're stuck your tongue out lewdly as you drew him closer and he smirked sinisterly before you two kissed yet again. This time was sloppy and spit swapping with teeth bumping against one another as tongues traced one another. The taste of your strawberry gloss and tongue left Plug!Toji feeling greedy and he needed more.

Plug!Toji and you only managed to kiss on the car ride. When Toji was about to place you in his lap the driver alerted you two that you had arrived to his apartment. He grunted, pulling away from you to see your gloss smeared around your lips and pupils blown sexually. He took a thumb and rubbed the gloss off your chin as you tuck your breast back into your shirt. Toji reached into his pocket, took out a wad of wash, and threw it into the lap of the driver.

"Good job not looking. Y/N, baby come on."

Plug!Toji who wasted no time and fucked you crazy in his apartment that night. He brought you up to his apartment and was nice enough to let the door close before he had began tearing your clothes off. You can't recall who took off what, but what you do remember is the first thing he made you do was lay face down ass up on the edge of the bed. His hands caressed your ass as his tongue lapped up and down your cunt ravenously. Salvia and dripping cream dribbled down his chin and lips but he didn’t care. Your angelic wails melodic to him and each time you went an higher octave he felt his cock swell another inch.

“Sexy as fuck when you moan,” Toji complimented you, “pussy pretty and soaked too think you ready for this dick?” You were so delirious you agreed. Your cunt lusted for something inside it and you felt him tap on your ass. You got up from your position, turning around to face him as you sat on the edge. You looked up at him, his massive frame towered over you as he slowly undid his jeans, his shirt long gone but that damn gold chain still sitting grandly on his chest.

He settled onto the middle of his bed, free from his clothes and he gave you a look. You didn’t need to be told, and you crawled towards him, swift hands at the band of his boxers and you languidly pull down . . .

you gawked at his immense cock that flopped against his stomach, stiff and flushed at the tip. You attempted miserably to hide your overwhelmed countenance but Toji saw the way your eyes widened and snickered. You don't notice him laughing at you because you were still so mesmerized by how huge it was. The veins are engorged around his shaft and even though it’s so brawny and intimidating it’s so pretty.

"Never seen a dick this big before huh?" Toji teased you, a playful thumb coming to caress your cheek as you continued to stare at his cock. You shook your head, just astonished. His enticing mauve shaft with a pink tip had you licking your lips at his color. The tip bubbled with precum and you leaned forward and kitten licked his slit. Toji hissed, but then grumbled as you took his tip in your mouth. He moved his hand to your hair and held it back, his brawny fingers fisting it into a ponytail. His thighs jerked when you kept trying to take as much as him as you could. What you couldn’t take you caressed with two delicate hands.

"Y/N." Toji hissed your name again and gripped tightly onto your hair. You answered with obscene noises coming from your throat and mouth as you performed the best oral of your life. You were so determined as you were determined to claim him with your mouth. Toji noticed your stubborn nature and one of your hands snuck away to fondle at his balls. He cursed and bucked his hips up in your mouth.

His tip bullied its way down your throat and it caused you to gag, but you took it obediently. He carnally bucked his hips into your awaiting throat, more obscene noises tumbled before you pulled your mouth off of him to breathe. You gasped as spit and a little bit of precum slid lewdly down your chin from the excess on your lips. You only smiled, giggled, and then continued to massage his balls with your hands.

"Dick so fucking big, Ji." You said, fucked out just from sucking his cock and Toji could only smirk. He saw that look in your eye and could not believe you were drunk off sucking his cock alone. He almost replied but then you tucked him back into your mouth. Toji groaned as he watched you hungrily slide his dick past where you stopped last time, deep throating him.

"Fuck— mouth so fucking good let me fuck that throat again." Toji said desperately. You barely gave his thigh a gentle caress as a go before he bucked inside your mouth again. You released a sound that was a mix of a whine and a gag and Toji felt his dick jump in your mouth. He bit his lip, relishing in the feeling of your wet and hot mouth and pictured what your cunt felt like. He casted a gaze down at your legs to see you grinding your poor thighs together. He smirked.

"Rubbing your thighs while sucking my dick is crazy. Get cho ass up here and fucking ride it."

You pulled your mouth off his cock, lungs gasping for air as you let oxygen fill them once more. You got up to your knees, quickly placing a few fingers at your entrance to feel the slickness. You're beyond drenched and your glossy fingers were indisputable proof. Toji snatched your hand as you straddled his waist and stuck your fingers in his mouth. Your taste danced on his taste buds and he sighed with pleasure.

"How I taste, daddy?" You inquired, finding your voice now because when he ate you out earlier words were scarce.

"Fucking delicious now sit on this dick."

Plug!Toji had a feeling he was going to fall damn near in love with you the moment you deepthroat his cock, but the way you rode him with something serious he felt in heaven. His arms were crossed behind his head as he enjoyed the way you slapped your hips against his pelvis erotically. His groomed hairs sticky and soaked with your nectar. You huffed, tits bouncing as you ignored the burn that plagued your inner thighs.

"To-ji!" You moaned, continuing to bounce up and down on his cock. You strived to ignore the fact that his girth was literally splitting you in half. You could feel him in the depths of your soul each time you managed to bottom him out completely. Your cunt quivered each time and you panted out pathetic gasps between moans. Toji only continued to smirk at you, drinking in and loving the way you moaned his name. Why was everything about you so perfect?

"You're so fucking sexy taking my cock like a pro, mama." Toji grinned and the scar at the corner of his mouth lifted. He decided he can't take not feeling you against his skin anymore and removed a hand from behind him, bringing it to your waist to steady your body. You mewled when he touched you, not realizing you missed his touch until he placed his hand on your hip. You take one of your hands that was at your breast and move it to hold onto Toji's hand.

"Cock so fucking big." You sighed as you continued to feel his tip deep in your cervix. His cock pulsed inside you this time, twitching when your tepid walls embraced him. Your cunt throbbed, hugging him tightly to beg for his seed. Toji groaned at the feeling, moving the hand from your hip to your ass. He caressed the fat before spanking it ruthlessly. You shout and threw your head back as the sting echoes throughout the surface.

"Biggest cock you ever fucking had, huh mama?" Toji asked of you. He witnessed your face contort in pleasure as you nodded shamelessly.

"MMmmm, yes Ji." You're drunk off the thickness, feeling your cunt tightening up and that thread deep in your belly become taut. You felt it coming and you were biting your lip to brace yourself for the messy spout about to erupt from between your legs.

"You a squirter, y/n?" Toji already had an inkling what was fixing to take place. You nodded, hurling your hips down faster as you felt it coming promptly. The feeling knocked into you when Toji's cruel thumb traced circles on your nub. You wailed, screeching as your cunt sprayed all over Toji, soaking his pelvis and hairs once more.

"Toji!" You panted while you rutted your hips greedily to let the last few spurts of squirt leave your cunt. He grunted and sat up before throwing you off of him and to the side on the bed. You weren't given a chance to register anything before his raven locks dove between your legs.

Plug!Toji has one of your legs thrown over his shoulder as his tongue assaulted your folds the second time tonight. His tongue reveled in every last drop as it oozed out of you. Arousal coated his lips and he doesn't mind. He licked his lips before he suckikg at your trembling hole. You whimpered, wanting to run away because of how good his hot muscle felt against you. Toji only gripped your thighs roughly, surely to leave violet reminders that following morning.

"Fuck you think you doing running from me, y/n?" He swore, slapping your thigh and you whimpered.

"Sorry, Toji—" You attempted to apologize but he cut you off.

"Nah, don't "Toji" me now wheres all that daddy shit from earlier huh?" He taunted you, bringing a finger to your awaiting hole and you sighed at the intrusion. You completely forgot he asked you a question when he sunk a second finger inside. A loud squelch sounded out and your eyes rolled back and you moaned. He slapped at your thigh again.

"Fucking answer me, y/n."

"I'm sorry, daddy. Please—” You tried to speak but his fingers curling deep in that one spot left you winded..

"Please what, pretty girl?" He teased, fucking your hole with his fingers and he earned a nasty squelch. His tongue circled your clit and you cry out. Toji’s fat tongue was so mean and overpowering your poor little clit as he fucked it. He earned another gush to coat his fingers and on the sheets.

"Want that dick, daddy." You finished your thought finally. Your pussy finished its second round of squirting and Toji licked at your clit one last time. He traveled down and sucked the arousal from around your folds before he came back up to you. He grabbed onto your face and you opened your eyes, seeing him stare down at you with that precarious darkness in his eyes.

"Open, and I just might give it to you." He said and you obeyed without question. Mouth open, you stuck your tongue out as he gathered the spit and arousal left in his mouth. The liquid is on your tongue and before you can swallow it Toji's mouth chased after you. You moaned in the kiss as your tongues swirled together in a salacious dance. You were so distracted by the kiss you fail to notice he was prepping to slide in until he eased in you.

"Toji—fuck—feels ssssogood!" You slurred underneath the brute man as he fucked you into his mattress. You couldn't keep up, pathetic gasps and whimpers fell from your lips each time he pistoned into you. He only smirked, drunk off the sounds that left your lips. He knew you ain't ever had dick like this before.

"Could say the same about you baby," he looked down at you, his chain bumped into your nose but you don't care, you're in heaven at the feeling, "pussy so pretty, leaky, and creamy can't have no one else fucking my shit." He spoke about you filthily but you don't care — again. You only get enraptured off his words and nodded frantically.

"It's all yours, daddy," you're drunk off his cock as it continued to send you in a lustful spiral, "i promise." You approached your orgasm and threw your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Toji only grunted and continued to fuck deeper into you as you squeezed him tighter.

"All mine huh," you nodded as your eyebrows scrunched up, face contorting into a euphoric expression once more, "that's what i like to fucking hear." He fucked into you faster, his thumb coming to rub on your clit again and you cried. You threw your head back, screaming as you felt your body succumbing to the orgasm.

"To—ji!" You're choking, pussy tight and leaky on Toji's thick cock as you came. You creamed, sucking him in and gushing hard around him. Toji only kept fucking you through your orgasm, his cold chain continuing to dust lightly against your face. You became a whimpering mess underneath him, unable to comprehend anything as overstimulation took over.

"Fucking tight pussy tryna get me to cum in it the first night," Toji chuckles, "shit should I, baby?" You nod your head so fast you should have felt shame for it.

"Want it all, Ji." You tell him and Toji didn't need to be told twice.

You're cumming again when he finally spills himself inside. He grunted and groaned, the sounds melodic to your ears and your cunt twitched around him more. He felt it, continuing to milk his cock with your silky walls and coming down from his high. He looked down at you and saw the roots had turned curly and a light smirk came to his face. A moment passed when you opened your eyes and looked up at him.

You mewled, coming back to Earth and you studied the man who lingered above still. His chain is still swinging against your face but you don't flinch. Dark eyes peered down and you hold his stare for a moment. The scar caught your attention, and the fingers that were on his back found themselves sliding forward to trace along the abrasion.

Plug!Toji tried to ignore the electricity he felt when your manicured finger traced along his skin. The moment felt slightly tender as he held a gaze with you. Something short of vulnerability flashed briefly until he snapped out of it. He hooked a strong arm around your waist and pulled you up from laying on your back and into his lap.

Plug!Toji who sparked a blunt before speaking,

"Once you with me there's no backing out." A subtle warning that once you were tangled with him and his lifestyle that was it. There would be no take backs. You only held his stare and took the blunt from him. You spoke.

"Long as you don't play me for no goofy bitch we good." A subtle warning from your side and you took a hit from the blunt. Toji could only smile sinisterly at your attitude.

"Yes ma'am." He chuckled darkly, taking the blunt back from you before he thinks to himself.

yeah, she'll fit right in.

flash forward a few years later and your life has changed drastically.

You're no longer a bottle girl. Why would you need a job when you had Plug!Toji to take care of you and spoil you to death?

The same went with your apartment. Why did you need to continue to pay expensive ass rent with a mediocre roommate when you had Plug!Toji who was ready to move you into his two floor loft after that first night of fucking?

And last but not least? You're the queen of the city.

Just as violent as Plug!Toji, you always get your way and opposition was always dealt with quickly and efficiently. If one didn't like you, you just prayed for their sake you never met them. Probability very high that the day you two crossed paths would be their last.

Plug!Toji has you as his iced out baby girl who he spoils. He always gets you what you want whenever you ask and men who stared at you a second too long always got punched out by him. Everyone wanted to know who was this one that was always next to Fushiguro. They knew you were someone special to him because Toji never showed up with the same woman more than once, never had a protective hand on their backs at times...

but it was the gold herringbone chain with a "T" brandished clear as day that marked you. Everyone knew it Fushiguro's way of marking you as his.

And you can't help but relish in this new found life of yours. The luxury, opulence, comfort, and excitement it offered to you was unimaginable. Soon after that first night with Plug!Toji, he took care of you instantly. He settled your loans and paid your roommate off to let you break the lease to move into his apartment a month later.

"I need you close to me this shit dangerous. Here, buy you that Saint Laurent bag you been eyein' or somethin just stop that fuckin poutin'.'" Plug!Toji argued, tossing his credit card in your lap on the drive back to his apartment with all your essential stuff in the rear area.

And you did in fact stop pouting and purchased the Saint Laurent purse you had been fawning over. This wasn't the first time Toji asked you to do something and rewarded you when you gave in. As mentioned earlier, you quit your job a couple weeks after meeting him because one time he wanted to see you but you had a shift . . .

"Mane, fucking quit that place, y/n. I take care of you now." You could hear the annoyance in Plug!Toji’s voice as you spoke over the phone, but you were feeling reluctant to agree. Relying completely on him after what you had in your account was gone? You felt uneasy and Toji could sense it. You heard him shuffling on the other end.

"Y/N." He said your name that day and he sounded like he was in a building.

"Yeah, I don't know To-" You started to tell him your thoughts until you heard knocking at your door. You went to answer it, seeing on the other side is none other than Toji. You can't help but roll your eyes as you two hang up. You take in his sexy all black appearance with that signature thick gold herringbone.

Plug!Toji showed up with a present. You two went to your room, you huffed and puffed about how he was going to make you late for work but he ignored you. Toji occupied himself with the jiggle of your ass as you lightly stomped into your room. You had went to the side of the bed, placing the bag there before opening the gift. Toji stood behind you and watched you remove the tissue. You saw the black box, raising your eyebrow as you feel his mischievous hands on your waist and slowly slide up your body. He hands were at your neck when you finally began opening the box.

Plug!Toji sported that signature devilish smirk, moving your hair from your neck as you revealed the gift. You gasped so loud that day.

The gift: a thick gold herringbone necklace similar to Toji's, however yours brandished a "T" in the center. You gasped at how pretty it was but also the slight meaning behind it.

"Toji.." You were still in awe as he began kissing on your neck, moving his hands back down to your waist. He naughtily licks a stripe along your pulse, causing your knees to buckle. He held you up before bringing his lips to your ear.

"Quit that fucking place, y/n."

You didn't even hesitate and immediately agreed that you would.

And moments later, you were riding him with nothing on but that pretty gold herringbone chain.

bonus scene:

present time: you lay pretty in a bathtub, rose and cinnamon filling the air. The ambience relaxing and romantic with your plenty bubbles and aromatic candles lit. Your muscles were slowly releasing the tension from a long day of shopping. A way to decompress after a stressful week of being the fiancé of the notorious Plug!Toji.

Plug!Toji who finds you sitting beautiful. Your eyes are opening, sensing he arrived and your lips shift into a sensual smirk. All day you missed your man and seeing him waltz through the door all tall and delicious you were ready to pounce. Your eyes sank seductively and Toji watches that look pass over you. He sits on the side of the tub as you speak.

"I missed you today, daddy." You speak.

"Missed you too baby," his eyes look you over before speaking, "come out that tub we both know you aint tryna bathe right now." A cocky smirk on his lips and you can only chuckle. However, you get up, standing up from the water and letting the suds and bubbles run with the water down your enticing frame. Toji licks his lips, watching the bubbles fall from your tits, stomach, hips, and between your thighs. He watches intensely as you step out, water lands on the floor but the two of you didn't care as you stand before him. You grab the towel from the sink and hand it to Toji. He leans down and grabs your wet calf, bringing your foot onto his knee as he begins drying your leg off.

You look at his lap, seeing his dick laying against his leg through the tight slacks he was wearing. You bring your foot up, sliding it until your toes were pressing into the print.

"You hard already, Toji" You tease him, he only looks at you sinisterly, knowing he was about to have fun with you tonight.

"Don't play these games y/n you know I aint the mufucka for that." He warns.

"What games, daddy?" You press your toes harder and before you can register the mean look he gave you he swiftly pulls you into his lap. The towel is gone and you're squealing, giggling even because you know you're about to get put in your place.

"Oh we actin' brand new? That's cool." He strikes your ass, earning a lament of shock.

"Get your fucking ass on the bed so i can break this fucking pussy so you don't fucking forget shit again."

©𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐯 ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

#ohhhhhh I THINK !! this is it #she’s subject to be edited but im ready to bring her to the WORLD #𝐑𝐈𝐕.𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #plug!toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut

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judasofsuburbia · 1 year

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something something caretaker! steve gets hired by rockstar! eddie to look after and live with wayne. everything is set up over the phone after eddie was given his resume so eddie's never physically seen the guy but he has enough positive reviews and references that it seems like there is anybody in this world that doesn't like this steve harrington fellow.

wayne munson soon becomes his #1 fan.

wayne keeps telling eddie all about steve in their weekly phone calls. anytime eddie tries to steer the conversation into something actually about wayne's health and wellbeing, wayne manages to involve steve. says that steve's blushing face is real handsome while steve rolls his eyes and laughs to himself across the room.

"you should come home on your next break," wayne says.

"i'm planning to."

"steve really wants to meet you," wayne says with an infliction.

"well, shit, wayne. from how much you gush about him, i'm excited to meet your new boyfriend too," eddie teases.

"oh hush, you. my casanova days are over. you, however, could use someone good."

the next break eddie has, nearly six months after steve starts working for the munsons, he arrives at nearly 11pm. he's quiet as he sneaks into the house he bought wayne years ago and nearly shits himself when he sees steve hanging out on the couch watching TV. he drops his suitcase to the floor, jolting steve out of his trance.

"oh god, i'm so sorry!" steve rushes to say as eddie clutches his chest and tries to steady his breathing.

"steve, i take it?" eddie laughs breathlessly.

"yeah, hi," steve stands from the couch and holds his hand out. "nice to finally meet you."

steve steps into the light as he does this and eddie's taken aback by just how handsome he is. oh fuck, wayne wasn't just messing around. eddie takes his hand, firm and strong, and shakes it.

"sorry to jumpscare you like that," steve smiles and his eyes twinkle in the low hallway light.

"no, i should've prepared myself," eddie says. "someone hasn't been in the house either than wayne or i in....well, ever."

"don't worry, i'll try to keep mostly to myself as you two have quality bonding time," steve replies sheepishly.

eddie shakes his head. "you don't gotta do that. you're more welcome around us than anyone. i owe you so much for looking after him."

steve smiles. "you already sign all my paychecks."

right, yeah. eddie's technically this guy's boss. eddie's never really thought of it that way before. that means any plans eddie's monkey brain had in the last thirty seconds about flirting with the handsome caretaker is out the window. it wouldn't be appropriate. eddie slouches and gives steve a tired smile.

"i'm gonna turn in. see you at breakfast?" eddie asks, hopeful despite his conflicting internal monologue.

"be prepared for oatmeal," steve jokes. "it's the only thing he wants for breakfast nowadays."

eddie scrunches up his face. "you don't have any poptarts or anything fun stashed away somewhere?"

"depends. do you like brown sugar cinnamon?" steve asks.

"love it," eddie whispers.

"then yeah, your breakfast fate can be a little better," steve nudges his elbow and it lights up eddie's skin.

"thank you caretaker steve," eddie salutes and turns heel to his teenage bedroom.

over the next few days, eddie goes out of his mind. he watches steve just do his job, the job he hired him to do, and he's still going crazy over it. how steve prepares for everything, accidents and things eddie couldn't even predict. spoon feeds wayne if his hands are too shaky. jokes and messes around with him like he's family. wayne's eyes keep drifting over to eddie's when steve isn't looking, a smug little smirk on his face.

"it can't happen," eddie seethes when steve leaves the room. "you're what's important here and i need him to stick around."

"and i need you to stop moping about the country, getting your heart broken every other week," wayne retorts. "steve's a good boy. he would treat you right."

"we don't even know if he's gay," eddie grumbles.

wayne gives him an unimpressed look that makes eddie bark out a frustrated laugh. "take a look at his bedroom, kid. you'll have all your questions answered," wayne advises right before steve returns.

"jeopardy time?" steve asks, hands already on wayne's wheelchair handles.

"eddie is gonna beat us both," wayne claims.

"that so?" steve beams. eddie is glaring daggers at wayne.

"he's full of useless facts," wayne jokes while eddie throws up his hands and steve laughs joyfully.

eddie falls for steve more and more as the week goes on. he tries his best to restrain it, tries his best to never be alone with steve. catches himself from checking steve out (especially in his daily running outfit, god) and swallows flirtatious lines that nearly escape his mouth. it's hard to say no when steve invites him to watch a movie or hang out with him while he cooks dinner but he does. eddie has to be coming off like a total dick at this point but it's for the best.

steve is out running an errand so eddie finally decides to snoop only a little bit. opens steve's bedroom door and smiles at all the decorations. sure enough, there is a little bisexual pride flag sticking out of the pen cup on his desk. eddie is admiring framed photos of steve and some kids along with little handwritten camp postcards on his corkboard when steve enters the room.

"anything interesting?" steve jokes from the doorway.

"shit!" eddie yells, clutching his chest again like he did the first night. "fuck, i'm so sorry."

"don't be," steve shrugs easily. "it is your house after all. i snoop your teenage bedroom all the time when wayne asks me to change the sheets."

"still, i shouldn't be invading your privacy," eddie says with an apologetic face.

steve walks carefully over to where eddie is standing. "i don't think there is much privacy between us where wayne is concerned," steve says quietly with a kind smile, leaning up against the desk.

"i'm sorry about him," eddie groans, rubbing his hand over his chin. "he is a little pushy about my love life."

"no, i'm sorry that he's weird about us. i swear i called you handsome once and he has never left it alone since," steve admits with a small blush.

eddie's eyebrows raise. "you think i'm handsome?"

"are you kidding me? you got this whole," steve gestures in a circle, "rockstar bravado going on. hard not to admire the show."

"well, you've got a show i admire too," eddie admits, inching closer.

steve huffs, looking down bashfully. "do i?"

"mhm. smart, genuine guy with a heart of gold. makes wayne's days better. lights up a room. probably rescues cats from trees and saves drowning puppies," eddie smiles.

steve tilts his head from side to side. "i may have rescued a cat before but it was stuck under my little brother Dustin's porch."

"see? heart of gold," eddie repeats.

steve exhales deeply, twisting his mouth. "i wasn't sure if you liked me."

eddie reaches his hand over and touches steve's hand on top of the desk. steve looks up shyly to eddie's sympathetic face. "i didn't want to-- there's a power trip here, you know? like you said, i sign your paychecks. i'm not about to pull out the moves and make you feel like your job is at risk if you aren't into it."

steve nods before slowly rubbing his thumb over eddie's.

"and if i am into it?" steve whispers.

"well i--" eddie stutters.

"can i kiss you?" steve asks quietly. eddie's not sure he's ever been asked in his entire life.

eddie nods. when steve's lips touch his, it's all over. any pretense of keeping his feelings undercover blows up like fireworks underneath his skin. eddie feels as his resolve sparkles and cracks away into the air. he encourages steve to keep kissing him by pulling in his face closer. steve sucks his bottom lip in between his own when his watch beeps.

"wayne's meds," steve whispers.

"old bastard," eddie jokes. "watch a movie with me later?"

steve bites his lip and nods. "i know just the couch."

#emily writes #emily's brain worms attacking her at work once again!!!!!#steddie ficlet #steddie #steddie au #steddie fics #steve harrington/eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson

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azsazz · 3 months

Text

Lavender Haze

Rhysand x Rhysand's Sister's Best Friend/Virgin!Reader

Summary: Having a crush on your best friends older brother isn't ideal. Especially when he has one back.

Warnings: Flirting, sexual taunting and begging.

Word Count: 3,065

Belongs to the timeline and predates Clandestine Love

_________________________________________

“Where’s Ara?” you ask your dinner mate as Einar places a steaming dish before you. The savory scents of the herbs he used on the fresh meat fill your senses, and your mouth waters at its deliciousness. Vegetables swim in a thick cream sauce that looks all too delectable, and the mound of cut potatoes doused in flavor has your jaw tingling. You simply cannot wait to dig in, only able to keep yourself from diving straight into your dinner as the family cook replenishes your half drank glass of sparkling fae wine. “Thank you, Einar.”

The chef dips his head in response then spins on his heel, quickly leaving the room. A bite of guilt pinches your stomach as you watch the green-skinned, normally bright-eyed fae stalk back to the kitchen to prepare dessert. It’s not like Rhysand is that much like his father. While his personality and aura tend to lean to the more arrogant side, it’s usually attributed to the fact that he is a young, confident male, eager to bask in all of the indulgences son of the High Lord is offered.

Said male sita across from you, pinning you to your seat with searing violet eyes. His spine is rigid and his fingers are curled tightly around his utensils as he watches your gaze follow the chef scurrying from the room.

He wants to fire him, no matter how delicious his food is.

Rhysand doesn’t have a right to feel this way. He doesn’t like the rage that coils his stomach, that lights his bones on fire when your soft eyes meet those of any other male in the court. Ever since you’d worked up the courage to kiss him all those months ago, it had ignited something inside of him even he couldn’t seem to make sense of. He shouldn’t be feeling this conflicted over his little sister's best friend of all people, but even he couldn’t ignore your otherworldly beauty, the musical laughter he always ached to hear, feel those gorgeous eyes roaming down his body while you thought his attention was elsewhere.

The following months after that fateful night had been spent in the Illyrian camps, avoiding you. He’d tried occupying his mind with training or drinking with Azriel and Cassian until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to have your lips pressed against his own, your breasts pressed against his chest, and your scent burrowing so deeply into his soul he might never forget it.

You couldn’t be drowned by any female nor male he fell into bed with since. Rhys, as sick as it might be to admit it, had resorted to imagingin his partners were you when he couldn’t seem to get off. Horrible, he knows, but you’ve planted that seed and his feelings are an overgrown slew of vines, constricting his inner being.

And now you’re here, across from him. And he’s here, alone with you. And Ara is not here like she should be and his mother isn’t here to form a buffer and his father is away doing Mother knows what and Cassian and Azriel aren’t here to tell him how horrible this idea is, or how if he’d only fuck you it would get these feelings out of his system, at least, the former of the two would say.

Rhysand is in a dangerous situation right now.

He forces his body to relax, slumping back in his seat with the vanity only the prince of Night can convey. Masking his face into something a little more open—a little more nice—he stalls, cutting into the meat on his own plate. Blood spurts as he takes his knife to it, and Rhysand has to force himself from imagining it to be a certain chef's blood instead. “Mother whisked her into the city for dinner.”

“So it’s only you and I?” you blush, stabbing a potato with your fork. It has been so long since you’d last seen Rhysand, and it seems the few months he’s been away have made him even more handsome than you remember, even if his skin looks a little paler from the blistering winters in the mountains and the drink he hasn’t let up on since.

“It seems so,” Rhys answers, chewing.

“And no one else,” you murmur, almost breathless as your heart begins to race in your chest at the thought of what you and him could be getting into all alone, if he hadn’t decided to run from you.

Rhysand quirks a brow, looking down the table as if looking for someone else, and replies, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Asshole,” under your breath, and Rhys fails to bite back his smirk. Both of you fall silent as you eat, only the sounds of your hammering heart and utensils filling the void in the luxurious dining room. You’re not sure how the family doesn't feel lonely like this, eating at the table built for an army. You can’t even hear Einar shuffling about in the kitchen, no clanging of pans or low curses if he creates something his perfectionist self doesn’t deem a ‘creation of the Gods.’

You can’t help but to glance at Rhysand, drinking in the sight of him. His straight nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow as he places a spoonful of vegetables and cream sauce in his mouth. His thick lashes are dark, so dark it looks like he’s let Ara around him with some of her kohl again. They’re long as well, brushing the apples of his cheeks when he looks down at his plate, and you’re envious of them.

Too long you’ve gone without seeing him. The most dramatic male you’ve ever set your sights on, running from you after you’d finally worked up the courage after months of pining to kiss him. It was after Ara had fallen asleep and you found yourself on the balcony, gazing up at the stars, his company warm and welcoming.

It had been everything to you then, the confidence you felt, the rush of adrenaline as you caught him off guard, the feel of his lips against yours, soft still, even if they were wind-chapped from the long flight. He hadn’t reacted, you hadn’t given him the time to, yanking yourself back just as quickly as you leaned in and running off to Araphel’s room, your mind screaming at you that it had been a horrible idea.

But you couldn’t ignore the emotions spilled between the both of you, the times where his hand had brushed yours or his touch lingered too long when he’d muse your hair, stroking the shell of your ear. You couldn’t ignore the heated looks Rhys shot you every time you spoke to another male, nor the way he always found an excuse to interrupt you, guiding you away from them with a large hand on the small of your back.

And maybe it was your silly little heart for wanting him. For crushing on your best friend's older brother who exudes confidence and can have any female in the court he wants. Any female on the continent, even.

The silence is damning, though, and you wish you could be how you were the night you’d kissed him, sanguine and bright with the idea that this could be your true love's first kiss. Of course, the fleeting press of his lips was enough to solidify many things for you, but you’d been unsure about Rhysand’s feelings on the matter, and by the time you’d found the courage to talk to him about what had happened, he’d already fled back to the mountains.

You’d kissed plenty of males since then, dragging Ara for nights out at Rita’s because Rhysand and his friends always raved about it. A part of you thought that he might walk in and see you in another male's arms, tear you away like the warrior-prince he is, but sadly, it hadn’t happened.

And you have to say that you’re more than a little confused. He’d been blatantly glaring at Einar while the chef served your food. Had he heard about the kiss you shared with the young chef when Donan hadn’t allowed Araphel permission to go out one night and you spent it with the staff the High Lord kept around the house? It was all for a silly drinking game, but the green-skinned fae’s cheeks had been bright pink after the both of you stumbled back from the pantry, lips bruised and eyes shining bright with liquor. Maybe he had overheard some of the handmaiden's gossipping about it after all these weeks? Or maybe, the darkness always knows.

Now, the both of you are here, alone, staring at each other over the delectable meals prepared by the chef you’ve tasted once before. It hadn’t been anything like the peck you’d shared with Rhysand. In that millisecond of the brushing of your lips your world had shifted, body set alight with shooting stars and setting free the wild butterflies in your stomach.

He has that glint in his eyes, the same one he always gets when he’s watching you, the one that heats your very core. And as you chew the potatoes in your mouth, you muster that confidence into yourself once more.

You will it into the marrow of your bones, rolling your shoulders as you prepare yourself to get exactly what you want. If there is no one here to interrupt, then the stage is set.

“Whoops,” you feign, allowing a drip of cream sauce to slip off the end of your utensil on the way to your mouth. It lands on the bare skin between the plunging fabric of your dress, and you catch Rhysand tracking the movement as you reach for your napkin to dab at your skin. “Spilled a little.”

Rhysnad hums, “You should be more careful, darling. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty dress of yours, now would you?”

“No,” you agree, ever the dream of poised elegance. You pop a vegetable into your mouth, chewing for a moment, before continuing. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my dress at all. But, if it’s meant to be, I can always have another one made.”

In that moment, you know you’ve got him. The stars in his violet eyes wink out as darkness settles in, pinning you to your chair. His look sends a shiver up your spine and you know that he is no longer hungry for the food plated before him.

Rhysand flares his wings a little and bites back a curse. For too long he’s been living at the Illyrian camps. There’s no one here he has to compete with for your attention, no one he needs to show off his wingspan to, though, by the way that your half-lidded eyes trace across the membranous skin of them, perhaps he’ll flare them wide when you’re beneath him.

It’s a line that he hasn’t crossed with you yet, one that he promised himself that he wouldn’t. You’re his little sister’s best friend for Mother’s sake, not just another female simpering after him because of his familial ties. You’re…much more than that, and he shouldn’t be thinking about crawling across this fucking table and licking that cream off of your chest and burying his head between your breasts.

“Meant to be,” he echoes, and you hum, tilting your head back with the motion. The exposed skin of your neck calls to him, even more so when you swipe a finger, capturing the sauce and popping it into your mouth to suck on. Your cheeks hollow exaggeratedly, and his cock strains painfully in his pants. He growls your name, a tenor of darkness that curls through your body like the icey patches of snow on the way into the city.

“What was that Rhys?” you ask, batting your eyelashes now. The meal in front of you is long forgotten, your hunger for this male insatiable. The way Rhysand makes you feel, despite only sharing a whisper of a kiss, well, you think you could be mates someday. “Did you need something?”

“I need you to stop doing that before I come over there and make you stop myself.”

You moan a little, legs falling wide under the table. “I think I might like that, though.”

Rhysand’s nostrils flare as he drinks in the scent of your arousal, thick between your thighs.

“You’re supposed to be a Lady, darling. Who taught you to speak like that?” he purrs, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the table. You know that he’s only doing it to try and dispel the tension leaking from his body. You can scent it in the air, the raw, heady smell of him that threatens to send you right to your knees.

“You,” you moan in response. You can feel him creeping into your mind, watching. Waiting.

“And you always listen to your superiors, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes,” you hiss, squirming in your seat as those black claws of his rake gently across your mind. Your fingers curl around the arms of your chair, your spine arching at the soft caress. “Rhys, please…I need you to touch me.”

It’s a simple request, one he’s always indulged you in.

In a moment he’s gone from his chair only to appear behind you, winnowing far faster than stalking around the edge of the table to reach your seat.

He looms over you like a touch of darkness crowding you in, and you revel in it. The hue of his eyes is a dangerous violet, set with lightning striking in the distance instead of stars. It lights you up, your breath turning faster, the beating of your heart thunderous in the silence of the dining room.

You can see the war in his eyes when you tilt your head back, resting it on the back of your chair. You press your breasts out a little, and watch with rapt attention as his eyes flicker down the front of your dress before he rips them away, the line of his mouth tightening at your hidden tease of a smile.

In your head, late at night, you’ve touched him; a hand around his silky, long cock, mouth pressed to his desperately, too. He’s tasted your slick on his tongue, reveled in it, hardly able to hold himself back from crawling up your body and fucking you how he wanted.

But you’ve never had sex before, and as much as you want to, as much as you’ve tried, Rhysand has been holding back.

Maybe it’s because he’s nervous to cross that line with you. You’re his little sisters best friend for fucks sake, and he’s going to be High Lord someday. Sure, he’s slowly making his way through the camp girls, trying not to grunt your name when he fucks into them, because you’re never far from his mind.

Maybe it’s because he’s scared, if his sister or father ever found out. Araphel might be happy for the both of you. It’s a thought he has less often than the opposite, if she’s upset that he’s stealing one of her only true friends, and he doesn’t want that.

Maybe he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself back.

Your name is a growl on his lips. A warning, one you don’t have it in you to heed. So you go with your next best idea, taunting.

“I guess I’ll have to drag Ara down to the city when she gets back then,” you say with a sad sigh. You pick up your fork and force your eyes from Rhysand’s burning ones. You shrug a little, spearing vegetables with your fork. “Fuck whatever male I come across there.”

Rhysand is hardly able to hold himself back from baring his teeth. He won’t allow that, ever.

You can feel the tension roiling in his body as he stands at your back, his food long forgotten. You’re not faring much better with the ache pulsing between your legs and the dinner that’s turned to mush in your mouth.

“I’ll turn any male that touches you to mist.”

“Are you planning on doing that to yourself, too?” you quirk a brow as you glance his way, faking your disinterest despite the way that your core goes molten at his words.

Rhysands eyes darken in response, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

Your words are working, you can see it in the way that he holds himself back, body nearly shaking at every thought you’re planting in his mind. You know he’s on the verge of cracking, that he wants this just as badly as you do, so you continue.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t a virgin anymore. Would you fuck me then, Rhysand?”

“What?” His voice takes on a dark tone, the stars winking out from his eyes.

“If I told you that chef Einar was the one to do it, to bend me over his worktop and fuck me, what would you say then, Rhys?”

“I’d say you’re a liar. And that I’ll kill him either way.”

“If I spread my legs for him just like this,” you continue, leaning back in your seat and opening your thighs wide. His fingers ball into fists but he doesn’t move from his spot, still planted behind you, trying his best to ignore the way your scent hits him like a sword to the gut. “And let his hands roam down my body just like this—” You startle at the loud sound coming from the kitchen, pots falling to the floor in succession. It makes your hands that you’re dragging down your body falter, and before you can continue, your wrists are pinned in Rhysand’s harsh grip, his breath heavy against your throat.

“You should be very, very careful about what you’re going to say next, darling,” his growl sends your bones rattling, shivers wracking your spine. You wish it weren’t the harsh wood at your back but instead his warm body, holding you tight.

“I want you to fuck me, Rhys,” you gasp, and it sounds like a desperate mewl. “I need you to fuck me.”

Rhysand’s mouth is a whisper against your skin, a brand of night.

“If I’m going to fuck you, darling,” he purrs and your insides melt. “Everyone is going to know it.”

#rhysand x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #rhys x reader #rhysand #rhys acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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yorsgirl · 2 months

Text

Grant me a wish

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Synopsis: In which, Levi takes it upon himself to fulfil that one wish of yours.

Trope: Angst, fluff, established relationship.

Warnings: Post Canon, implied nsfw, kissing, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Nothing just me milking my daydream with this fine specimen of a man. Fuck you Isayama for making my man go through all that shit 😭 (jk, thank you for writing this amazing story for us)

Levi never said that he loved you.

In all the years you've spent with him neither did he once speak those three words. He never said those words while you were in the infirmary being treated for your broken ankle.

Neither had he ever urged you to skip any expedition nor did he push you away when you were adamant to fight this war alongside him.

Perhaps, his love is not to be heard. It's meant to be felt.

It was felt when you were the first one he looked for after every expedition. It was felt when he'd ask you to stay back for training. It was felt he himself strapped the harness of your ODM before an expedition. It was felt that after submitting the paperwork he'd take a trip to your room. It was felt when he told you about his past; revealing each and every darkest secret as you shared a cup of tea under the starlight. To know the hands which caressed your form every night with tenderness were the same hands stained with the red of death.

Amidst this never-ending war, the concept of a blooming romance was like a far-fetched dream. And there was a hint of fear. Fear of you suffering the same fate as everyone he loved.

For everyone he loved had been taken away one way or another.

It wasn't on any special day that it happened.

The air was humid and you could hear the crickets chirping outside your window. The sun was setting down the horizon slowly when Levi asked you that question.

"They died for us..." He had said, gazing out the window before shifting his form towards you.

"Would you live with me for the rest of my life?"

There was no bit of hesitation on his face but you could sense a subtle hint of fear when his voice turned heavy. Fear of what might be your answer. It wasn't a question on impulse or one of reassurance you had answered previously.

He didn't kneel before you nor did he voice out any of his feelings. It was a question, as simple as that. Yet, it was the most important he had ever asked of you.

When you didn't answer for long, he was prepared to apologize as his shoulders slumped down. But before he could conjure those words, your lips met his. It was unlike any other kisses you had shared until that day. Your lips didn't move against his, it stayed like a touch of a petal.

It was a kiss to shush him from wringing an apology (what was there to even apologize for), one to convey your answer.

He brought out a ring from his pocket. Nothing fancy, just a silver band on first inspection. In the second look, you found his initials engraved on the backside. He slid it on your finger without any further ado.

Next, he had passed you another identical ring and forwarded his hand to you. You found your initials engraved on its backside as he urged you to put it on him.

"I could only afford this." He confessed, meeting your gaze. There was a subtle disappointment lingering in his voice. He could have gotten you something more intricately crafted or one made of a more valuable metal.

You offered a soft smile, intertwining your fingers with his. The pad of his thumb rubbed circles upon your knuckles, the silver ring glinted as the sunlight reflected on it.

Only if he knew, you needed no ring for you had him by your side.

Each step towards the altar was a step-down memory lane.

Clad in a black suit, similar to the one he had worn to all the meetings in the survey corps. You always told him he looked like some nobleman wearing such an outfit.

You noticed the slight change in demeanor when he saw you walking down the aisle in your white dress and a bouquet of white lilies. He was standing before the priest; waiting for your arrival.

That caused a frown. His knee was still damaged and from the medical reports, he needed to rest it as much as possible. You remember repeatedly chiding him to use the wheelchair but his stubbornness was evident. You were sure to give him an earful after this was over.

You never took Levi as the one to want a traditional wedding ceremony. You were sure he'd want to just sign the papers in court and be done with it. That's what you thought.

Until he asked you to pick a dress and a location. Informing you he had sent word to your union to the needful people. So you did, chose a dress to your liking and the spot which held both of your memories—the survey corps headquarters.

Walking between all the guests you reached him. A lot of guests weren't present to witness this matrimony. Only his remaining squad and the queen made a graceful appearance with her daughter - Ymir. But they were your family. The very family with whom you had fought a war alongside. The ones who held witness to your laughs and tears, who had your back through thick and thin.

A family brought together by tragedy.

Levi helped you up the stairs, offering his hand which you took gratefully. Standing before him, all the doubts that plagued your mind previously faded into thin air. There were no regrets, no second guesses, no jitters, nothing except the love you held for him. Looking back, there were a lot of things he didn't say but his actions conveyed proof of those unspoken words.

Everything felt right when you looked into his eyes.

A sense of tranquillity settled on you. Your loud heartbeat seized to a comforting pace when he held your hand. Gazing at you with no bit of hesitance whatsoever. There was a ghost of a smile adorning his lips.

He never looked more beautiful than now.

====

"Grant me a wish, Levi."

"What kind?"

"To speak of your honest feelings when the right day comes."

====

You were the strongest in his eyes.

Humanity's strongest soldier, they called him. He carried loads of expectations behind his back; and carried the hopes and dreams of every soldier who gave up their life for this cause. For a chance at freedom which was so valiantly fought for till the end.

And now, he stood before you. You, the woman who stuck by his side till the end. To not keep a distance when he revealed his vulnerabilities and shared about the darkness residing in him. Quite the contrary, you closed the distance into an embrace.

Surreal to know, you were here and not some vision in the air. You were here, right before him. And this war was over. The bloodshed, the death, the conflicts, everything was over. Hence now, he decided to live. Live a life with you which you used to speak about. A normal life.

He honestly didn't know what the future held. Neither was he aware of how this decision will turn out. He never had but he knew if you were with him; he'd figure it out.

The priest's voice reached his ears.

"State your vows."

Vows. He was never vocal about his intentions. Not the one to make sweet, empty promises. But here, he wished to say something which he always meant to express.

He took a deep breath, clutching your hand tightly in his. Each syllable of your name rolled off his mouth in an agonizing slow pattern.

And after a long time, he saw tears slide down your eyes. For once, these tears were not of sorrow but of happiness. The absolute bliss to hear him speak of his feelings for you. He granted your wish on this very day.

Those words:

"I'll always be yours."

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #captain levi #aot #snk #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi angst #levi fluff #capatain levi #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman angst #rivaille ackerman #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #levi drabble

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sttoru · 2 months

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, who’s silent is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

“What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk angst #toji angst #please give it lots of love :)

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wheneclipsefalls · 3 months

Text

Little Gift- Introduction

Pairing: Soft Dark Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Beautiful Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2

Sumarry: The RDA are forced to negotiate with a certain Olo'eyktan. Luckily, there is only one thing he wants.

Warnings: dark, dubcon/noncon, suggestive, kidnapping, aged up Neteyam, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, humiliation, dark Neteyam, swearing, power imbalance, etc. (not exhaustive) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: I had this idea in the middle of the night two days ago. This will be the introduction of the mini series. It is dark content so read at your own risk.

tiyawn: love

mawey: be calm

oeyӓ: my (possessive)

Masterlist

The rope is coarse against your wrist and ankles, tied tight enough to leave squirming out of the question. However, it's the thick fabric gag that has you grinding your teeth together in discomfort. They leave you no opportunity to ask questions. No way to understand your fate before it unfolds.

Colonel Quaritch had been even more cold and distant as you were prepared for the mysterious treck. You had been in the middle of packing your stuff, preparing to return home with the rest of the RDA when you had been dragged away and dressed against your will.

Now kneeling here in the middle of Pandora’s forest wearing little more than sparkly scraps, you have never felt more exposed. The intricately beaded top does little to nothing to cover your hardening nipples and it’s easy to catch some of the Colonel’s brats sneaking a glance occasionally.

“Colonel,” Lyle calls to your left. “For a final touch.” He holds a large pink ribbon in one hand, eyes snapping over to your small form with a smirk.

“Be quick.” Quaritch grumbles but he doesn’t hide the amusement painted across his face.

You attempt to scoot away when Lyle approaches you but he wrangles you back into place one handed. Another recom keeps you still with hands on your shoulders and before you know it Lyle is using the ribbon to tie a big bow directly over your breasts.

You muster every hateful thought into your heated glare, not that it does much to kill his mood.

It’s obvious that you are the one left out of the joke everyone seems to revel in. Several times you wonder if all of this is some sick prank. Dressing you up only to drag you into the middle of the woods and leave you for dead. Perhaps even kill you themselves.

However, thirty minutes of kneeling in the mud with a small army on high alert around you proves plans to be otherwise. There is something ominous about that pink bow tied around you, something even more suspicious about the traditional Na’vi clothing that has somehow been made to fit you perfectly.

“That bastard sure likes to take his sweet time.” Mansk huffs.

“What more did you expect from one of Sully’s filthy half breeds?” Quaritch sneers, readjusting the heavy artillery into his shoulder.

“Makes a lot of demands too. Swear if we didn’t need these resources-” Lyle starts but is cut off.

“And yet we do. So shut your trap and pay attention.” The Colonel snips at him. It’s almost comical to see how fast Lyle straightens and goes back to scanning the terrain for movement.

Always the Colonel’s bitch.

You wish this ridiculous gag wouldn’t stop you from finally speaking your opinion freely. If you are about to meet your demise, the least they could let you do is get some long awaited satisfaction.

Tension bleeds into the atmosphere. The former marines snap to attention and guns are locked into place, the formation fanning them out to combat any potential threats.

It takes several dreadful seconds for you to see them but finally a pair of golden eyes just barely shines through the thick forest. They are in the trees, crouched to the ground, in bushes, some even swooping overhead on banshees.

You marvel at their ability to hide in the nooks and crannies of the forest. However, even now you recognize that they are choosing to be seen. They have decided to make their presence known.

Your heart thunders.

Tied and kneeling between the two juxtaposing crowds feels like being offered up as a human sacrifice.

Do the Na’vi believe in live sacrifice?

Perhaps they too put up dead to their deity as a sign of loyalty.

And you are pampered and primed for the taking.

“Signed, sealed and delivered as promised.” The Colonel grunts, boot clad toe nudging your vulnerable form.

Dread slinks through your veins.

What have you done to deserve this?

The Na’vi that steps out into the open is one that you can recognize instantly. Even a human of low status among the RDA knows what Jake Sully’s eldest son, and now Omatikaya Olo’eyktan, looks like. His face has become a focused target that the RDA have been working to exterminate for months. Now, it feels all for naught as they have been brought to their knees and forced to leave Pandora with little resources. The same reason you prepare yourself to say goodbye to this mysterious planet for good.

However, that was the idea before you were prepared like a trussed up main course for the taking.

You struggle fruitlessly in the binds once more and Neteyam’s eyes center on you. Peering up at him hurts your neck as you are once again reminded of how tall and muscular the Na’vi are. His shoulders give the illusion of spanning out even further with the traditional feathered mantle he wears.

His head slants to the side before he is prowling closer. You attempt to jerk away from his large hand coming to your face but that only ends in you falling back on your rear. His lips turn down as he inspects your tied wrists. There is nothing you can do as he holds both of them easily with one hand.

“I was told she would not be harmed.” He speaks lowly, voice thick with a Na’vi accent.

“She put up quite a fight. Even getting her to hold still during the shot was a pain in the ass.” Quaritch replies.

You remember all too well the fear that had overcome you when they brought out that long needle. The developed serum was a success naturally but it still racks your anxiety higher to fully breathe Pandoran air without your mask. Even more so, you feel strangely more exposed in front of this Na’vi legend without the glass to separate you from him.

“I don’t appreciate excuses.” His golden eyes flicker towards your face and a small smile appears. “But I am pleased to see it fits.” Long fingers trace the lines of your necklace top before toying with the ends of the pink boy.

You stiffen beneath his touch, eyeing the sheathed dagger across his chest.

Do sacrificial ceremonies require specific clothing?

Maybe dressing a sacrifice up in pretty ornaments and clothing proves to their deity its value.

Either way, you hope it’s fast. The Na’vi are trained killers, but at least they should know how to end a life swiftly.

“I would be pleased to see the resources you promised.” The Colonel bites back.

Neteyam sighs and purses her lips as if the small army around them is simply an annoyance instead of a threat.

“Trades are not historically present between the Omatikaya and your people. I am not opposed to taking instead. Remember that.”

You can hear the shifting guns behind you. The Colonel’s anger boils through the air and you are surprised to find no smart response coming from him. Neteyam leisurely tugs the ends of the bow, perfecting its shape and you are mortified to feel your nipples tighten beneath them. He nods his head and a few armed Na’vi step forward and hesitantly hand over a few tubes of minerals.

You recognize it as unobtanium, most likely the small amount left to mine from the last Home Tree. Your eyes widen. All of that for you?

It wouldn’t be enough to make the RDA’s trip a success but it would surely cut down the financial loss significantly. But why give it over? Just to kill you? Had their deity sent out a bounty on your head and if so, what had you done to piss Her off so immensely?

“As promised.” Neteyam rises back to full height, hands settling on his hips. “I trust you understand what is to come to those who do not honor this agreement.”

“Consider her a…peace offering. A special gift from the RDA.” You can hear the smirk in Quaritch’s tone, even the chuckle that Loyd fights to hold back. Your teeth dig into the fabric gag, praying more than ever that now would be the one time you would be able to rip him a new one.

Your own special gift before you leave this life.

“I tire of your presence, demon.”

Quaritch scoffs but you can already hear the shuffling of retreating boots as they slowly but surely exit the scene. The only home you have ever known and now it is nothing more than a memory. You’re left to the demise of the Na’vi like a shiny object to be collected.

And with the way Neteyam smiles and studies your form intently, you can’t have found a better analogy. Kneeling once more, large hands cup your cheeks, fingers encasing the whole side of your head.

“Oeyӓ tiyawn, you are shaking.” He tuts, features softening at breakneck speed. Eyebrows furrowing, you watch closely as he carefully parts the hair from your face. “So nice to meet you, properly that is.” He chuckles, as if telling a joke only he knows the context to.

Unease tightens your muscles and you’re sure that if your heart rate picks up anymore the organ will simply give out before they even have a chance to kill you.

He sends a look to the side and instantly the rest of the Na’vi party retreat back into the forest. Your forehead creases. What is a sacrifice without an audience?

Unless.

Neteyam’s fingers comb through your hair.

Unless the Olo’eyktan has decided to have his fun with you before you are offered up.

Tears spill from your eyes and you can’t stop yourself from trying to beg through the gag.

“Oh tiyawn,” His thumbs wipe away your tears. “You do not need to cry anymore. Not now that you are mine.”

A hiccup catches in your throat, wide eyes looking up at him.

“My sweet pet.” He husks, lips curved into a prideful smile.

Your heart drops to your stomach.

Pet.

How does he even know what that word means? The Na’vi do not keep pets. Perhaps he misspoke.

But when one large hand circles around the back of your neck and you remember one thing: this man was raised by both Na’vi and Sky People.

Frantically shaking your head in protest you try to get out words that will convince him to release you. It’s a strained effort with the cloth gag and his giant hand grasping your neck.

“Mawey, little gift, before you hurt yourself.” He lingers over the cloth gag and for a moment you have hope that he will remove it, instead Neteyam gives you a sympathetic smile. “My poor tiyawn, I would love to remove it but I think we will need to go over some ground rules first. I’ll need you to listen without distraction for that part.”

Your thoughts tangle into a million knots as vast ideas of what these rules may entail generate frantically.

It would be easier to believe that a Na’vi has no purpose for a Sky Person as a pet but it’s impossible to miss the lust swimming in his golden orbs. Nor the wandering hands that now come to squeeze your plush hips.

“You’re even more breathtaking up close.” He grins. When had he seen you from a distance? “Especially in proper clothing.”

You can barely see through the cloud of tears over your eyes so you miss when Neteyam unsheathes his knife. That is, until you feel the cold material against your ankles. Terror grips your heart but to your surprise the Olo’eyktan cuts the rope around your feet.

Foolishly you take advantage of this slight freedom only to be snatched around the waist and pulled onto his lap. Neteyam chuckles as if your escape attempt is the cutest thing he has ever seen. Your hips ache slightly at the stretch it takes to straddle one of his muscular thighs.

“Misbehaving already, hm?” He raises a hairless eyebrow at you, one hand slink down to settle over your rear. Luckily he seems more amused than angry. After all, you have to admit that there was no real chance of you outrunning him in the first place. And now that those muscular arms are locked around you, there is no hope of beating his strength.

Humiliation runs deep when you feel the first trickle of arousal stain your tiny loincloth. Neteyam’s thigh flexes and your pussy greedily takes the friction as an invitation. His nostrils flare, no doubt taking in your changing scent.

He doesn’t further your embarrassment, however. At least not yet.

“My father told me about these.” He muses, fingers playing with the bow once more. “It’s said to represent gifts. I always thought they were silly but now…” Heat runs straight to your core when his thumb dances over one escaped nipple. “I quite like the look of it on you, little gift.”

A whimper escapes your lips without permission, snagging his attention.

“Needy little pet, aren’t you?” A dark laugh rumbles his chest as his thumb casually slips underneath to bow to torment one nipple. “Do not worry, oeyӓ tiyawn. I’ll have you seeing stars before the night is through.”

Everything in your mind says no but Neteyam’s skin is warm and his hands are skilled as one teases your nipples while the other explores your backside. Your body preens into the touch, desperate for some semblance of comfort to hold onto. And in the dangerous atmosphere of Pandoran nights, your instincts tell you that this man is what separates you from death.

However, you are still held as prey under his gaze.

“But first I think it is time to get you home.” He leans forwards until your noses are touching.

“You will be more comfortable in my bed, pet.”

And so it begins! As always, I would LOVE to hear your thoughts! <3

unofficial taglist: @pandoraslxna @tallulah477 (thought you might like it, baby) @itchaboi-itchyboy @zafrinaxyz @lilghostiequinni @criticallybella

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the official taglist for future parts

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kamiversee · 3 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 32 || The Heavy Tension (pt. 2)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & sexual tension.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE NEXT FEW DAYS are dull and you feel so grey. Everything that occurred on that fateful Friday, you push to the deepest and darkest depths of your mind. Thinking about the situation only makes you confused so, you push it away.

Gojo doesn't speak to you for a while, he doesn't text you, doesn't call, and you're pretty sure he's avoiding you. Even so, you could live with it. It made it easier for you not to think about everything.

So, you just focused on your next task which was Sukuna.

Gojo had consumed so much of your brain that you forgot all about Sukuna almost entirely. Every day leading up to the Thursday you were set to meet up with him, you thought about how things would go down. He told you to meet him at the same place and the same time and that there would be no party this time.

The house you were in was huge and you don't even think you remember the directions he gave you. Hell, do you even remember where the damn house itself is? Gojo was the one that drove you there after all...

Because of this, you wondered if you should text Sukuna and ask him. He did give you his number after all.

You debated on doing so every day up until Thursday came. You don't know why you were so anxious about the whole thing but it took you quite some time to work up the confidence to text the man. Maybe it was because of how intimidating he is?

But, he's also ridiculously hot.

With that thought, as you lay in your bed that Thursday morning, you grabbed your phone. Just as you raise it into your line of vision, you notice a message already sitting there at the top of your notification list. It was from a minute ago, from Sukuna.

Your eyes widened at his timing and you smiled a little as your fear of texting him faded, moving to see what he said and respond.

The male asked if you were still coming over today and you replied with a simple 'yeah' and then went on to ask him for his address, to which he responded within minutes by sending it to you.

The conversation was so short that you didn't even know what you were sweating over. That took the weight off your shoulders and you made sure to spend the rest of the day mentally preparing for that.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You were standing outside of the mansion before you knew it, one of your hands buried into the pocket of your jacket as the cold November air brushed over your exposed skin. You shivered a little, not too fond of being outside so late and ready to get inside already.

Your knuckles gently tapped across the surface of the large doors presented before you. It was pretty dark but there were these nice lights that lit up as you walked up the entrance path so you got a decent view of the scenery that surrounds Sukuna's place when there's no party.

Nonetheless, after your knock, you moved to ring the doorbell but you were interrupted by one of the double doors swinging open. Your eyes went wide at the person who allowed you inside, seeing that they were in no way shape, or form, Sukuna.

As you stepped into the house, you took a slight glance around the spotless interior that didn't reak of partygoers, your admiration only lasting a few seconds before your last name was said by the person who'd let you in. Your head turned to them and you raised a brow.

They've got quite the appearance to them; with short, bob-cut white hair and a unique part of their hairstyle that's dyed red, androgynous features, and a stoic expression, they motion to take your coat from you, to which you chirp out an 'oh, sorry' in response.

You didn't wear anything crazy, just a pair of black sweats-- you weren't trying to impress Sukuna after all so you saw no point in dressing up. As your jacket slides off your shoulders and your arms, you watch as the white-haired individual goes to hang it up nearby.

"He's upstairs waiting for you," They inform you, making your turn to look toward the stairs.

You wanted to ask where but when you turned back to do so, the person was gone already-- making their way down a nearby hallway. Their steps weren't quick or anything but you noticed how far they'd gotten from you in such a short amount of time.

With a shrug, you furthered into the house. It was quite warm inside so that made you feel more at ease as you made your way up the staircase.

Everything was beyond clean. So much so that the house looked like an entirely new place in comparison to the last time you were there. The second-floor hallway seemed longer than you remembered and it was so spacious.

You slip your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants as you stroll down the hallway, your steps stuttering as you glance into one of the rooms. You back yourself up and narrow your eyes.

The bedroom door was wide open and inside you spotted a picture of Choso, one you'd seen before. Unable to ignore your curiosity, you took one last glance down the hall to make sure Sukuna was nowhere in sight and then dipped into the room.

You just wanted a closer look, nothing crazy.

Doing so, as you approached the portrait you also took in the bedroom's furniture. It looked almost exactly like Choso's bedroom in his apartment. The color palette of the room matched his vibe, his style, everything. Hell, you just knew it was his bedroom.

But, it didn't look like anyone had lived inside the room in years. You saw a sheer layer of dust lying on the nightstand beside the photo you wanted to look at so it was clear that it hardly even got cleaned. Carefully, you pulled the picture up and inspected it, seeing a cute image of Choso and Yuji hugging each other.

It made you smile because you know that this exact picture is taped up in the sun visor of Choso's car, just a smaller version that's not framed of course.

Okay so, maybe you do miss Choso. And of course, it's as you're about to fuck Sukuna that you start thinking like this... A little sigh escaped your lips and you moved to place the picture down.

As the item is put back in place, you notice the lighting in the bedroom that was coming from the hallway dims, almost like a shadow-

Oh shit.

You were caught, weren't you?

Goosebumps rise along your back and you swallow hard before turning your head around, noticing a familiar man standing at the doorway of the bedroom you were in. Your eyes go wide and then the lights of the room flick on, revealing your features to Sukuna who was wondering why you were in the room to begin with.

You open your mouth to explain yourself but he cuts you off with that deep voice of his, "How'd you end up in here?" Sukuna asked.

Were you sweating? You're not sure but you sure as hell felt nervous even though you hadn't done anything criminal, "U-Uh, I uhm, I got curious..." You murmur honestly.

Sukuna tilts his head and those dark maroon eyes of his narrow, "Curious?"

"Well... I uhm..."

He nods his chin toward the picture you just had in your hands, "You know my brother, don't you?"

Your eyes widen, "N-No-"

"You're not a good liar, sweetheart," He chuckles, slowly entering the room.

Your heart pulses strongly at that nickname. In your mind, only one person should be calling you such a thing. And Sukuna's voice alone was so damn intoxicating, it's like he was seducing you by just speaking.

You swallow, "I'm not lying, I don't know your brother."

Sukuna scoffs, steadily approaching you, "I'm not talking about the one that looks like me, y'know."

"I know but-"

"He's talked about you before," Sukuna says suddenly.

You think your heart sinks into your toes. Holy shit, you thought Sukuna and Choso didn't like each other? Does Sukuna know you've slept with Choso? Does that fuck things up-

"I'm joking, relax yourself, woman." Sukuna starts chuckling, mocking the shock and fear on your face, "Though, I don't understand why you lied about knowing him, it's pretty damn obvious now."

You let out a relieved sigh, "I uh... I just think it's weird that I know him, considering what I'm about to do with you..."

Sukuna arches a brow, "What you're about to do with me? Remind me what we're about to do again, I forgot." He taunts, clearly lying as a smirk spreads across his face.

The man is now standing right in front of you and you feel like you're shrinking under his gaze all over again, "I mean," Your eyes drop down and you fiddle with your fingers, "Aren't we gonna-"

He cuts you off, his fingers going to your chin and lifting your head so that you can't avoid eye contact with him. Your words fall off your tongue and you're mute again, to which he scoffs, "Go on..."

You try to collect yourself, taking a deep breath and batting your eyelashes at him, "Aren't you gonna fuck me?"

That wicked smile of his appears and the sight makes you so beyond weak in the knees. Sukuna lets out a low chuckle and then leans down a bit so that he can be at your eye level, "Is that what you want me to do?" He whispers, "You want me to fuck you like I should have last week?"

You're nodding before you even realize it.

Sukuna hums and then his thumb slips up to your bottom lip, dragging it down a little, "Speak, woman."

"Yeah," You breathe out, "That's exactly what I want."

He hums and then glances off to the side. Then, that smirk of his widens and he chuckles, "In here?"

Your body tenses up. Fucking Sukuna in Choso's old bedroom is the last thing you'd ever want to do. "W-What? No..." You say.

Sukuna raises a brow and his gaze glides back over to you, "No? What's wrong with this room?"

"Everything," You hum, "It's just weird since I know him..."

The man's head tips to the side slowly and his eyes gaze way too intently into your own, eyelids lowering as you begin like he can see right through you. "How's it weird?" Sukuna scoffs, "One little photo's got you all weirded out?"

"Well... isn't this his room?" You ask, looking off to the side to avoid the constant eye contact.

Sukuna's eyebrows raise in surprise and he laughs again before leaning back to stand up straight. His tattooed muscular arms cross over his chest as he folds them. The man then looks around the bedroom.

"Does it look like he's been in this room lately?" Sukuna chuckles, "Emo fuck moved out the second he got the chance."

"Okay but still," You sigh, "I don't wanna do anything in someone else's room."

With a roll of his eyes, Sukuna turns away from you, "Fine then, follow me."

When you look at the man, you quickly begin to follow behind him as he walks you out. In the hall, he waits until you're out of the bedroom and then shuts the door behind you.

After which, he leads you into the same bedroom he had you in a week ago and you shut the door as you enter behind him.

"This isn't anyone else's room, right?" You ask carefully.

Sukuna is seen pulling his shirt up over his head before tossing it into a pile on the floor, and then he heads toward his bathroom, chuckling at your words. "Relax, it's a spare." He tells you.

You lose sight of him as he enters his bathroom and the light flicks on, the door left open. "Oh... So am I not special enough to be in your room?" You question, smiling a little as you carefully follow him.

"It's a mess," Sukuna tells you, "And the last thing I want to do is have sex in a room of filth."

You scoff lightly, approaching the bathroom door frame and peeking inside. Sukuna is seen looking for something in one of the counter drawers and you get the full display of his back.

God damn is his back profile sexy. You saw it last time you were here but the sight never fails to impress you. His shoulders are so broad, his back muscles are so defined, and... Your eyes narrow as you notice a bruise on the back of his upper right shoulder, near his tattoo.

You're stepping into the bathroom and moving to get a closer look without a second thought. Sukuna looks over that same shoulder when he notices you behind him and he hisses as soon as your fingertips make contact with the bruise.

"Sorry," You murmur. He glares at you but you don't feel scared, instead, you touch the bruise again, the contact much gentler this time, "How'd this happen?"

His glare fades in an instant at the sound of your concern. You really know nothing about him and it shows-- the fact surprising to him. Sukuna has quite the reputation for himself so he's surprised you're this clueless.

"A fight," Sukuna tells you, his gaze dropping to your hand as you shift your palm over the mark.

He swallows hard when your lips replace your hand and you kiss his skin gently, "What kinda' fight?" You whisper, shifting your gaze up to his.

It's slow but he soon meets your eyes, "Bad one. Fucker' snuck a hit on me like the little bitch he is," Sukuna curses.

You hum and then kiss over the bruise a second time, making the man tense up, "Does it hurt?"

He hates to admit it but, to little extent, "Yes," It did hurt, "But I'm about to put somethin' on it so, I'll be fine."

You grin, "I can do it for you."

"You like taking care of people, don't you?" Sukuna hums, his words sounding like an observation he's made.

You chuckle sheepishly, "Sometimes, yeah."

"Might' have to keep you around if that's the case," Sukuna says.

What does he mean by that? Keep you around? For what? Wait... he's not growing interested in you for more than sex, is he?

You didn't think much of your interactions with him but his words just now make your brows push together.

"Keep me around?" You try to play it off, "Were you planning on getting rid of me?"

He laughs and then turns his head away from you and down to the drawer his hand was still in, quickly grabbing the item he'd been looking for. His hand then motions back to you and you take the tube of numbing cream from him.

"No, but, I fight a lot and I'd love to have a pretty face like yours taking care of me after each one," Sukuna comments, his words making your heart race.

You open what he's handed to you and move to apply the product onto his skin, "You've got a pretty face downstairs who I'm sure takes care of you just fine."

Sukuna's brows pinch together for a moment and he squints in thought, wondering who the hell you're talking about before he remembers. "Uraume?!" The man scoffs.

"Yeah," You hum, smiling a little as you swipe the cream over his bruise, earning another hiss from him in reaction to the chill, "Do you not find them pretty?"

Sukuna rolls his eyes at your question, "Uraume and pretty don't belong in the same sentence."

You frown and press your thumb into his bruise, making his eyes widen as his shoulder limps, "That's mean, Sukuna."

"G-God damnit woman, that fucking hurts," He snaps, turning his head back to you with a sharp and angered glare.

You lighten the pressure of your thumb, quickly acknowledging that you're playing with fire right now. To make up for it, you do this circular motion with your thumb and massage the area.

"Sorry," You chirp innocently.

He would've spewed more curses out to you but as you start to massage him, a sense of soothing takes over the area and he relaxes under your touch. "You did that on purpose," Sukuna utters through gritted teeth.

You giggle and keep running your thumb over his bruise, doing well enough for him to face forward and flutter his eyes shut. A smile graces your face as you see clear evidence of you doing good and you lose yourself a little when the man starts letting out sounds.

There was this low hum that vibrated against his throat as you touched him just right, the noise giving you chills. It was so sexy and low that it gave you butterflies.

You sigh and continue for a while, wondering what other sounds you can prompt from him. With that, you apply a little more pressure, not enough to inflict pain but to instead soothe him once more.

Sukuna rolls his head back and his brows tense, a deep and core-throbbing hum leaving his lips, "Fuuck, that feels good..." He groans, smirking a bit afterward, "Keep goin'."

The praise brings heat in between your thighs but you try your best to focus on what you're doing, massaging him as best you can. Sukuna's head remains tossed back and he keeps his eyes shut, his face twisting up and scrunching every now and then as you work against his tense skin.

You take a slight peak around his body to see him in the mirror, eyeing his defined tattoo-covered abs and watching the way they flex and tense as you roll your thumb around just right. You smirk and lean forward a little, pressing your chest against his back and hearing him inhale sharply.

You then snake your other hand around his body and push up on your toes to look over his shoulder, watching your free hand lay flat against his abs. Sukuna moves his head to look down at your touch, raising a brow.

Your thumb presses a little harder into his shoulder and you watch his lips part and his eyebrows twist up. A soft breath of air leaves him and you smirk at how he almost just moaned.

Wanting to hear such a sound from him, you slide your hand downward to his v-line, running your delicate fingers against it while moving your thumb away from his shoulder. You then kiss around the bruised area, still watching his reaction in the mirror.

A smile graces your face and you slip a finger under the fabric of his sweatpants, making him close his mouth shut to stop himself from releasing any noises.

Sukuna then chuckled darkly, "I love an easy whore like you," He comments, catching you off guard by placing his hand over yours, "So eager to touch me, aren't you?"

You slide over a bit and kiss the nape of his neck, making him flinch. "Very eager," You reply slyly.

He hums. "What happens when I get eager to touch you?" Sukuna asks.

You move to stand flat on your feet, wrap your other arm around his body, and basically hug him. "Are you eager to touch me?" You question in return, realizing that the man has hardly laid a finger on you so far.

His large calloused fingers wrap around your wrists and you feel him pull your hands away from his body. Sukuna releases one and then brings the other to his mouth, placing a kiss on the palm of your hand.

You giggle at the contact, "Guess' that answers my question..."

Sukuna grins against your skin before moving your hand away from his mouth. The man then uses his grip on your wrist to pull you from around his body. You stumble a bit due to his aggressive tug and you're quickly moved in front of him.

Your head angles up as you meet his eyes, your body trapped between his muscular frame and the bathroom counter. Sukuna leans down a little, placing his hands on the counter behind you and at your sides.

He then tilts his head, "I'm eager to do more than just touch you."

Your hands raise to his shoulders, fingers soon sliding up along his skin until you get to his neck, "Then do more than just touch me, Sukuna. What're you waiting for?" You whisper, tone sultry.

He licks his lips and then cracks a sexy smile, "I like building up your anticipation," He claims, "I want you begging for me."

One of his legs shifts in between yours and you inhale sharply as his thigh nears your heat. Your hands go to his arms as if to brace yourself, "Please?" You whisper.

Sukuna's smile fades into something lustful, "Please what?"

Your hands begin to rise until you're able to wrap your arms around his neck, "Please touch me."

His eyebrows raise a bit, "Touch you where?" Sukuna asks as his leg lifts a little.

You feel his thigh press up against your clothed sex and your breath hitches, "T-There," You breathe out.

Sukuna's gaze drops to your lips and he then slides his leg forward, causing it to rub against your sex, "Right there?" He asks in a low tone.

You nod your head and roll your hips forward just a little, "Yeah, right there..."

Sukuna tilts his head and his face nears yours, lips brushing over your own as he speaks, "Like this?" He questions while drawing his leg back but in an upward motion.

That, combined with the slight movement of your hips allowed you a pleasurable moment of friction. You let out a quiet moan and Sukuna smiles before finally pressing his lips to yours.

His hands then go to your waist, the touch making you tense up within his grasp. Part of his hand slips under the shirt you're wearing, feeling your bare skin against his fingers as his lips work over yours. Meanwhile, his other hand slides down to your hip and he pulls you up along his leg.

"Mmh," You hum into his mouth and receive a half smile from him momentarily.

The feeling of his lips curling into a smirk for just a moment makes you simply melt. Your arms hold onto his neck tighter and Sukuna's hand begins to raise up under your shirt, the fabric bundling up at his wrist as he does so.

Wet and slick sounds of his tongue and lips slipping over your own fill the air, each sound accompanied by an occasional groan from the male. Sukuna's teeth soon latch onto your lower lip and he tugs at it, sucking on your skin afterward.

Both of your eyes open and you two make brief eye contact, breaths shared and the gaze intense. Sukuna smirks as he takes in your flushed features, biting his bottom lip as he feels you grinding over his thigh as best as you can.

After his second of taking in your presence, he leans back in, his tongue slipping out of his mouth and licking over your lips before you part them for him. It's sensual and hot the way he works the appendage into your mouth, both of your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue reaches yours.

Sukuna snakes a hand up and behind you, his fingers brushing against your spine and making you arch into his body before he reaches your bra. As you make out with the man, you hear a snap and feel the way the man casually breaks the clasp to your bra instead of undoing it like a normal person.

A surprised hum leaves your lips and you try to pull away from him but he grows aggressive, firmly pressing his mouth against yours and letting out a slight chuckle in reaction to the way you're squirming. The hand that was on your hip then flies up to your neck and you moan.

Sukuna pries his mouth away from your own with a loud pop, a slim string of saliva hanging from the tip of his tongue and your lips.

The man tilts his head at you tauntingly, "Aw, look at you..." He coos, his large hand sliding up to your flushed expression, "All fucked out from some kisses?"

You pant, just barely able to catch your breath before swallowing heavily, "N-No..."

Sukuna laughs at your response and then both of his hands go beneath your thighs. You gasp when he lifts you up and onto the counter behind you, removing the friction from between your legs. He makes up for that by then gliding his grasp up and onto your waist again.

The male tugs your body close to his as he pushes himself forward, allowing you to feel the bulge in his sweats right against your clothed cunt. Your lips part and you let out a breathy sound, one that he smiles at.

Sukuna's then quick to move to work your shirt up and over your head, along with the bra in which he'd just broken-- not that you comment on it just yet. Your upper half is then revealed to the man and his eyes drop to the sight.

He smirks, "Y'know... I think I like you, sweetheart," Sukuna suddenly comments.

Your heart sinks again, "Like me?"

His gaze snaps back up to your eyes, "Not in a romantic way, don't get excited."

You weren't-- you got worried. "I-I'm not but, I mean, I would hope you like me..." You hum, pouting slightly at his words to play it off.

Sukuna licks his lips, "Yeah, I do," He says, then snickering, "I'm just letting you know because..." The man leans toward your face again and his lips brush right over your own, "I'm about to fuck you like I hate you."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

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silkjade · 4 months

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SPARKS AMIDST THE SNOW

scaramouche x reader ⤀ warnings: gn!reader, second chance romance ⤀ synopsis: he meets you again for the first time since erasing himself from irminsul, and new hope flickers in the barren cold. a/n: for the best reading experience, pls think of the outro to all too well (10 min version) while u read this !

when scaramouche inevitably accompanies the golden haired traveller on their journey to snezhnaya, the last thing he expected was a pit stop in your little village on the outskirts of the capital. and although his puppet body does not shrink in the face of this nation's biting cold, his skin burns under the curious, yet cautious, gaze of those once familiar to him.

he keeps his head down, dipping his hat so that its large brim might hide his visage, eager to avoid any unwarranted attention. still, his eyes cannot help but wander and his heart, imaginary as it may be, cannot help but wonder.

were you well? the last he'd seen of you, he had promised to return a god—one who would whisk you away from the barren cold of snezhnaya to live out your days in glory as his mortal consort. but for all that had transpired, and then that fateful traipse beneath the irminsul, he's now no more than just another stranger passing through—fleeting as the falling snow, just another memory to be buried in the desolate stillness of winter.

he cares not for the stars in the sky, yet somehow they still dictate that his traveling companions would task him with purchasing commodities, of course from your family's stall. he's long grown out of his naivety; knows that in this infinite realm of possibilities, there’d always be the chance of meeting you again, slim as it may be. if it really came to, he had been prepared to let you live your life, free of him this time around, but it seems this world has its own twisted sense of humor, for he cannot tear his eyes from the ring that sits upon your finger.

"that ring. where did you get it?" he's never been one for small talk, but the biting curiosity rivals that of the wind, as it chips away at his exterior. he keeps his tone even, ignoring the multitude of emotions whirring in his head, though irritation clearly seems to buzz the loudest.

it should have been impossible that a ring he'd forged with his own hands should still exist, but as the fate of this world has yet to reflect that… if he hadn't given you the ring, then how? or perhaps even who... the cold, gunmetal glint laughs in his face as your swift fingers wrap up his purchase.

the stranger's question takes you by surprise, and you look up, taken aback by the intensity of his indigo gaze—beautiful, and bitter, and so blatantly familiar, yet you cannot quite figure out why.

your village is nowhere near the main road, so it isn't often that you'd host any foreign guests; even if you did, you're sure you'd remember if someone like that were to ever have passed through. nevertheless, you flex your fingers, pulled out of your thoughts by his impatient sigh.

"I'm not sure. I've had it ever since I could remember."

you're the same as he remembers, he thinks. a rose amidst the snow, with frost resting in your hair and on the curls of your lashes. out of habit, he takes your hand, inspecting the ring at a closer proximity.

'how rude,' you think. and yet your hand in his, feels comfortable, and warm, and right. like an electric charge drawing two magnets home to the other. it’d be blasphemy to pull away, but you manage to do so anyway, furrowing your brows at his boldness, the frown on your lips more so a reflection of your confusion, rather than displeasure.

“if you wanted to look, you could’ve just asked,” you mumble, as you slip the ring off your finger, offering it to him in the palm of your hand.

the detailed metalwork, the particular branding imprinted in the iron… there’s no denying the influence of the raiden gokaden, though it was perhaps, a subconscious decision made from muscle memory. in hindsight, he thinks that, in the moment, he must have felt—still feels—that same overwhelming affection that came as second nature to kabukimono. after all, it was forged as a promise of his love, and there’s no question about it when, hidden beneath his clothes, its pair hangs on a chain around his neck.

"it’s made with excellent craftsmanship," he boasts, "any merchant worth their weight, would give you a good price for it." he figures you might as well get something out of it, and a piece like this, though meaningless now, is still sure to last you until at least the next winter.

but a stubborn pout is painted across your snow-kissed features. "absolutely not! it’s actually quite dear to me, you know..."

scaramouche scoffs at the irony. ‘why?’ he wants to ask. he is not foolish enough to believe himself an exception from the rules of this world; not when he's already convinced himself to give up on chasing the impossible. still, here you are, turning destiny on its head—his heart, right within reach.

“it can’t be that dear, if you’d so willingly hand it off to a stranger.” his face reveals nothing, though he cannot say the same for the bile that rises in his throat. he crosses his arms, a brow raised in skepticism. "how do you know I won't run off with it right now?"

“I don’t,” you start, “so I suppose you could call it a leap of faith.”

“or a doomed attempt at flight,” he counters. “you’d leave something so precious up to fate?”

you ponder for a moment as to why you feel so drawn to this stranger, why this back and forth comes so easily, why you seem to somehow just trust him.

"we don’t get many visitors here,” you start, “and as fate should have it, the day we do, it happens to be someone as interesting as you. that must count for something, no?”

the realist he’s learned to embody rolls his eyes at such ridiculous notions: your blind optimism… putting such faith in these false stars…. but the tenderness he had buried begs to differ, planting roots between the cavities of his chest, sprouting until it breaks through the surface.

he takes a further study of the intricate details, the careful inazuman script engraved on its body. ‘my heart,’ he had wrote.

scaramouche dips his head as his fingers close a fist around the piece, the large brim of his hat hiding the fondness glimmering in his eyes, and the ghostly smile settling on his lips. he does not cringe as he recalls the lingering remnants of kabukimono's innocence: stubbornly deluding himself to believe that his hollowed chest was naught for his natural lack of a heart, but because fate had dictated you to be its keeper.

perhaps the warmth of sumeru had indeed rubbed off on him—melted the frost that crawled upon and tore his skin, whilst teaching him to hope again, not for anyone else’s sake, but for his own. what was that vahumana saying? it’s difficult for people to truly understand themselves—and as much as he’d like to disagree, judging by his current predicament, he knows he cannot.

“have you ever considered that this ring might be one half of a pair?” he tosses it in the air, nonchalantly, as if he were merely flipping a coin, catching it mid-way before you have the chance to swipe it back.

“what do you suppose fate would have to say about that?”

it’s almost impossible to tell whether he’s truly genuine in his queries, but the mischievous gleam in his bright eyes, and the smug look on his face, seem to nullify any regards you may have had. your brows twitch in vexation. was he not just here to buy provisions? and yet he toys with you so…

“well if that were the case, then it would be between me and whoever owns the other half,” you huff, reaching over once again in an attempt to snatch back your belonging, only to miss by mere seconds thanks to a quick slight of his hand.

breathing out something between a chuckle and a scoff, scaramouche tugs at the thin chain around his neck, hard enough for it to snap right off, and toss in your direction.

"a leap of faith," he says plainly. it lands in the palms of your hands: a ring, near identical. 'my soul' it reads. if he lacked a heart, then it could only have been forged from his soul.

a flurry of questions swarm in your head, as you stare at his ring. you want to ask him why and how, but he's already pivoted away, the tassels of his hat barely missing you by inches, as he quickly grabs his purchase.

“who are you,” you manage to blurt out, calling out to him, and asking him to wait, so he might answer these questions he’s planted in your heart, but he only bids you farewell with a lazy wave of his hand.

though there's nothing he'd like more than to hear the sweet song of his name falling from your lips, he's learned it best to leave the past where it belongs. once he's settled his scores... then he'll get his second chance with you—he'll make sure of it, vowing to come back for you, not as kunikuzushi who you had once known him, but he hopes you might one day be able to love him as he is, as well.

‘my soul.’ your new ring reads. you shake your head, pursing your lips at the mysterious wanderer, wondering if you’d ever see him again, but a gust of wind blows your way—not a prickling cold as you’re used to, but a warm summer breeze that seems to caress your cheeks oh so sweetly.

perhaps it's only in your head, but you swear the wind seems to carry the whisper of a name in its flurry. 'and don't you forget it,' it seems to say.

a/n2: pleaseeee associate this with the outro of all too well (10 min version) like imagine the camera slow panning out amidst the falling snow, to the hopes of another chance together (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄‸o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝) anyways, tysm for reading, reblogs/feedback vry much appreciated ♡

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #astronetwrk #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin impact x you #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin drabble #scaramouche drabble #scaramouche x reader fluff #genshin impact

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munsonsreputation · 4 months

Text

i'm falling in love, again

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [6.7K]

warnings: no use of y/n, friends to lovers, infidelity (reader's ex), characters are in their early 20s, modern!au (they've got cellphones and text messages okay!!!), cursing, some angst w/ fluff ending.

summary: you thought the plane was going down, but somehow, someway, all the fates and all the stars aligned, and now you were lost in labyrinth of Steve Harrington’s mind forever.

“Hey doll,” Steve greeted softly, holding out a bunch of flowers towards your figure that stood slouched against the wooden doorway, sadness filled orbs meeting his.

You pouted deeply, eyes brewing with tears that blurred him out before you blinked and set them loose. He made a sound, sighed and tsking before he finally closed the space and wrapped you up in his arms, letting you fall against him while you wept into the crook of his neck.

“H-hi Steve.” You croaked, fingers sinking into his back, trying to anchor yourself as he rubbed your skin up and down attempting to sooth the biting warmth that swarmed your body.

Pulling away slightly to look down at your tear-stained face, he gave you a tight smile and gripped you a little tighter.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” He suggested.

You nodded, pulling yourself away from him and swiping your cheeks with your fingers, letting him step into your apartment watching as he locked the door shut and toed off his shoes.

It was emptier than usual, missing footwear from the shoe rack and lonely pegs of the key holder that used to hold another’s. Your ex had finally come around to pick up his things that were left behind. Even if it was a month of separation and him overseas preparing you to see him, it sucked the soul out of your body when he knocked and stood on the other side waiting for you to let him in now that the locks were changed and his spare was no use.

“Sorry for the mess,” You sniffled, gesturing pathetically around the disheveled area, still trying to get rid of everything that reminded you of him and the things that he left behind.

He shook his head, setting the flowers down on the kitchen table and walking over to you. You hated crying in front of him mostly because he hated seeing you so sad, but you couldn’t help what you were feeling inside.

“Don’t apologize. I’m never gonna judge you.” He reminded you never wanting you to feel bad for feeling how you did.

His hands fidgeted with your fingers, rubbing comforting circles over your skin, hoping to get the slow trail of tears to stop pouring and your breathing to even out.

“What do you wanna do?” He proposed, speaking so delicately, careful and considerate, “I can help you get rid of whatever you want out or we can sit down and talk, or we don’t have to talk at all. Whatever you want…I’m here.”

The truth is, Steve was always there through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the stunning. He was one of your closest friends who saw you through and through everything and no matter what, he always made it clear that the second you needed him or anybody, he would be there.

He was the first one to officially meet your ex before he even asked you to be his girlfriend. It all happened when you went on your first date that was soon running a little too late into the evening. Steve was sitting by himself in the corner of the pizzeria as per your request just in case your date turned out to be horrible and you needed a convenient way out.

Three taps of your foot against the tiles meant, “please get up and get me out of there,” and so when he saw you do just that, he didn’t hesitate to stand up and “run into you” by coincidence.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.” Steve beamed, holding his arms out wide as you smiled and stood up from your seat, embracing him in a hug.

“Hey Steve!” You greeted, pulling away and turning to your date.

“This is my friend, Steve! We actually live in the same apartment complex.” You explained, watching as they both shook hands and Steve nodded towards him.

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at you as if he remembered something. “Don’t forget that maintenance is shutting off the water at 2 in the morning—that leak is still going at it.” He cursed, shaking his head.

You gasped, nudging his shoulder. “You’re so right! I totally forgot about that.”

Passing your date an apologetic look, you picked up your purse and slung it over your arm.

“I’m so sorry, but I think I should head home. I definitely want to shower before the water gets shut off for god knows how long.”

He stood up, nodding her head, and gesturing out the windows, “Sure thing! Did you want me to drop you—”

Steve cut him off, shaking his head and draping his arm over your shoulders.

“I think we could walk together, just makes sense since we live in the same place and it’ll save you some gas.” Steve assured him, as you nodded in agreement and said your goodbyes.

It wasn’t long before your arm hooked over his and you two were walking the busy streets back to your apartment complex only a good ten minutes away. You and Steve often walked together to do groceries, get late night pizza, or just to get out of your apartments for a while. He never let you walk alone though… that was always his rule.

“Did he say something stupid?” Steve suspected, peering over at you.

You shook your head, silently continuing to walk with him.

“Is he not funny?” He tried again.

You laughed this time, pushing against him gently as he nearly tripped over his own feet.

“He wasn’t not funny.” You chided.

He wanted to beg to differ, seeing as though you spent most of the date nodding and smiling, not much laughter going on, but maybe he was just reading too much into it. But he tried to think up what could have made you want to cut the date short and head back home thirty minutes earlier than you were supposed to.

“Do you not find him attractive?” He said once more.

Your lips curled, eyes shooting up to think to yourself as you neither shook your head nor nodded, just simply shrugging.

“He’s great, I had fun… I just don’t know where this is gonna go.” You pointed out, stopping at the crosswalk.

He leaned over you, fist knocking into the button, waiting for the light to turn red.

“Where do you want it to go?” He met your eyes, staring into them deeply, hoping to get a glimpse of the future, yet all he could see was the slight reflection of himself.

You smiled unknowingly, taking a deep breath and letting your shoulder fall.

“We’ll see.” You whispered, tugging him along through the crosswalk.

Two piles were made in the middle of your living room: trash and donate. You and Steve went through boxes of stuff your ex had left behind, clothes, old records, knick knacks — everything that he had left for you to deal with, as if breaking your heart wasn’t enough.

“Why did he always dress like he was in boarding school?” Steve cackled, folding up a pair of slacks that added to the already tall pile of dress clothes that would be going to the Salvation Army.

You giggled, sifting through the rest of the stuff you had set aside, and hid in the back of your closet, hoping to avoid until now.

“He was really going for that stuck up, private school, douchebag look I guess.” You scorned, huffing as you chucked a meaningless valentines card into the trash bag.

You didn’t care for keeping anything from him even just for memory's sake — if anything you wanted to burn him out of your memory and forget that he ever even existed to begin with.

“Well, on the bright side, someone else is gonna be wearing these clothes to their first professional interview, but hopefully whoever it is isn’t such a jackass.” Steve scoffed, moving the pile aside to make space for the rest of the things.

“Yeah, let’s hope.” You breathed, reaching the bottom of the box, plucking out the white envelope that laid by itself.

You froze for a second, throat tightening up and your heart thumping against your chest a little stronger. It had been the thing you found that confirmed your suspicions that your ex wasn’t being as loyal as he was claiming to be. In fact, he had been sharing his devotion to another woman… one that you thought was just a friend from work, though you should have read the signs way before then.

“You okay?” Steve furrowed his brows at the sudden silence, turning to see you go rigid while you stared at the piece of paper.

The front of it was marked with her initials and his in a big red heart, encasing their names like it was some kind of holy matrimony. The other side stained with her red lipstick marks that she had left behind. The contents of the letter: a confession of her love for him — how she couldn’t believe she had gotten so lucky to find someone whom she got to see every day even if it was during boring meetings and long nights at the office.

Your heart felt like it had dropped from its cages right down to your gut, a sort of free falling feeling similar to the rise of an elevator that would come plunging down. You wanted to be in denial, re-reading the letter over and over again hoping that maybe your mind was seeing things that they weren’t supposed to — but that was the joke of it all.

You weren’t supposed to see it, but you did.

You felt the rise, quickly taking you up to the floor that you were supposed to be on, only to be left hugging yourself, not even being given a warning to brace the crash.

“I—It’s the letter.” You let out, swallowing the lump in your throat, eyes staying glued to the floor as you tossed it aside.

Steve was the first to know about it, too. You had called him, practically speechless not knowing how to go about it. He swore the first five minutes of the phone call was him asking you if you were alright and if you were still there — nothing could have prepared him for what you were about to say next.

“I…I think he might be cheating on me.” You whispered, closing your eyes, doing your best to not take it out of proportion.

Steve just jeered, puffing out a ridiculous laugh. “Why do you think that? How could he ever cheat on someone as amazing as you? I think you might be overthin—”

“I found a letter.” You confessed, and he quickly shut up then the line went silent for a few seconds.

“W-what kind of letter? I-I mean, what does it say?” He stammered over his words, still trying to grasp what was happening.

“A love letter.” You cracked, taking a harsh breath, rising up from your place on the floor to get as far away from it as possible to somehow make it feel like it wasn’t real.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve rushed the apology out.

A shuffle sounding over his voice as you let out a sob and paced your apartment panicked and distraught.

“What do I do? I—I never imagined this…never in a million years. I don’t know what to do, Steve… please, tell me, what can I do?”

You were begging, trying to make sense of the situation, even trying to see it through when you both knew there was no going back from here.

Steve wouldn’t let you do that to yourself.

A knock sounded on your door, interrupting your tears as you choked, wiping them off your cheeks, pulling the phone away from your ear slightly. You unlocked it, opening it a bit only to be met with him on the other side. He caught his breath, pushing the door open with a gently hand.

“I don’t know, but right now, I’m here okay? I’ll be here as long as you need.”

Steve stayed over that night, holding you in your arms as he read the letter to himself, trying to understand why that son of a bitch could do something so cruel to you. And when your phone went off with a text message from him, saying he’d be spending the night at the office doing paperwork ahead of the big meeting the next morning — Steve was the one who texted back for you.

You both knew he was lying, spending the night at her place instead.

It took everything in Steve to not blow up, to pounce on the moment to tell him that you had found the letter and figured everything out. That he best not even bother to come home at all because you’d be throwing him out.

But he resisted… and he always did until you were ready.

He resisted the next day when you told him to go home and get some rest after he had spent the night worrying about you and soothing you back to sleep when you would wake with the nightmares of your boyfriend and his mistress.

He resisted when you told him that you’d figure out a way to break up with your him soon, even when he knew you were holding out.

He resisted when he came to check up on you a few days later, only to be met with your boyfriend answering the door, him and his stuff still there.

He resisted when you and your friends went out for dinner, and you had dropped the bombshell on them, and could say nothing when they asked if you had broken it off already.

He never understood why you waited so long to call things off, when deep down you knew how wrong the situation was. He tried to put himself into your shoes, to imagine what you must be feeling inside that made you want to stay and be tolerated instead of celebrated. But he couldn’t feel it. He only wished you could see yourself from his eyes, then maybe you’d see it a little clearer.

That you didn’t need to stay in the footnotes or the bylines of his life, when Steve was right there, so ready and willing to make you his temple, his mural, and his sky.

But he sat and watched you until you were ready to let go — until you pulled the dagger out and lost the weight of the person who was holding you back and taking advantage of your love.

He swiped the letter away, tucking it within the folded clothes to get it out of your sights. He scooted closer to you, a tender hand coming to cradle your head and let you rest it on his shoulder.

“Do you think she knew about me?” You marveled aloud, sniffling as you grazed up at him.

He didn’t answer, just letting his fingers pull your hair behind your ears, tucking them away.

“She had to have known, right?” You stared at him, hoping he would have the answers that you’d been longing to find even after all this time.

But Steve wasn’t an expert on all this. He didn’t want to fill your head with narratives that he didn’t know were exactly true; he knew it would only make you spiral with the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve’s, but to quite honest, there was nothing that you could have done to fix it and no answer Steve could have given you to change the past.

“He didn’t deserve you. I know that much.” Steve whispered, lifting your hand in his, keeping his response short with something that he knew was sure.

You squeezed against his digits, threading your fingers through his, letting the both of you stay hand in hand on your living room floor.

“Why wasn’t I enough for him?”

He squeezed your hand three times, taking a deep breath in keeping his eyes on yours, “Because he was an idiot not satisfied with the best he had in front of him.”

Steve knew a lot about boys. After all, he once was one of them — stupid, self-centered, ignorant, and most of all ungrateful. He lived life like everything and everyone was replaceable, a kind of numbness that he had garnered since he was a little boy following the footsteps of his dad and just trying to make him proud by being a reflection of him.

Nancy Wheeler changed that for him, his first love, such a lovely experience that changed his life for the better. But it costed him losing her too. He could never step close to Jonathan Byers, the one who was man enough to love Nancy the way she wanted… the way Steve never could.

It stung for a long time. Lots of hope that maybe one day Nancy would love him again, and more hopelessness knowing that she was irrevocably in love with Jonathan and he would have hated for her to only see him in his eyes knowing her heart always belonged to him.

The heartbreak could have made him envious at the world, wanting to lash out like a wounded animal and get revenge on the entire world like some sort of villain, but it did the exact opposite.

He took it in stride even when some days were harder than the rest. There was a community of love around him, and while it wasn’t romantic, it was enough for him to see it through and know that one day when he met the one, he wouldn’t let himself let her pass by.

You released his hand, smoothing the top of his with yours as you put on a small smile taking your head off of his shoulders.

“I’m gonna make us a drink… and thank you for being here for me.” You spoke gratefully, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

He stayed there for a second, watching you closely, trying to figure out if you were running away from talking about it or if you were just over it by now. He crossed his fingers that it was the second option; he wanted you to be over it, to not be so affected and hurt anymore knowing that you were always the better half, the one who didn’t lose anything because you already had everything you needed inside of your heart.

But he also knew it tended to get like this — thoughts so loud, presence so distant, you were a world away while he was there hoping you’d find your way back home soon.

“Fuck him, he’s a piece of shit who never deserved you!”

The nightclub was so chaotic, bright lights, booming music, even louder friends who were trying to get you to feel a little better about the breakup. Nancy and Robin had arranged the night out for you with the best of intentions, seeing as though you had spent every day since the breakup inside the apartment that you used to share with him.

It didn’t help that you broke things off right before he had to go out of town for a work, all of his things still stayed where they were, not enough time for him to find a new place or ask a friend to stay with them for a while. But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been if he was still there physically.

You gulped down the shot, pinching your eyes closed when the liquid went down with a burn before being followed by the sourness of a lime. The girls cheered around you, nudging your shoulders and placing kisses on your head affectionately.

“C’mon! Let’s go dance!” Robin whistled, grabbing your hand and attempting to pull you to the dance floor with her and Nance, but you stayed grounded, just barely glued to the seat.

You flashed her a reassuring smile and waved her off to the dance floor.

“You guys go ahead! I’ll meet you there in a little…I just need some water.” You called out loud enough through the music and they both nodded, shimmying into the disco lights.

Steve tapped his fingers against the tabletop, sipping on his Coke, no alcohol added. He volunteered to be the designated driver for the night and of course, honorary body guard if anyone messed with you guys. You didn’t know if he’d want to spend the night practically babysitting three girls, but you were glad he was there nonetheless.

“You having fun?” Steve leaned over so you could hear him better.

You nodded instantly, though there was a strain in your features. Eyes shining with a glaze over them and your smile felt like it was rehearsed, something you had spent time in the mirror trying to get right so that it was believable past the frown you’d been wearing.

He looked at you unconvinced, reaching under the table to hold your hand in his, “You can tell me the truth, doll.”

“I just…” You looked around, hoping that your friends were looking at you and sure enough they were too busy dancing to the beat of the music having fun like you were supposed to be doing right then. But you definitely didn’t want to dump it on them, seeing as though they did this for you and didn’t mean any harm.

“I, I hate that everybody expects me to bounce back, just like that.” You snapped your fingers with a clack, “I want to forget about it and move on, I really do, but I just can’t do it overnight you know?”

He nodded understandingly, thumbing over your knuckles, “I know what you mean, but it only hurts this much right now because it’s raw and fresh… one day you’re gonna wake up and it won’t hurt as much.”

“I wish that day would come sooner.”

“It will,” He reassured you, squeezing your hand three times, “But what about tonight you just pretend?”

“Pretend?” You looked at him uncertainly.

“Pretend like you’re over it, or just pretend like he never even existed? Go out there and have fun and pretend like you forgot about him, just for tonight.” He told you, gesturing over to the dance floor of people who were probably doing the same.

“You think that’ll work?” You rose your brows, and he snickered, shrugging lightly.

“Won’t know if you don’t try,” Steve whistled.

“Come with me?” You tilted your head before taking the last shot on the platter.

You let it burn, not bothering with a chaser until he pushed his Coke towards you, coaxing you to take at least a sip before nodding his head with a sly smile.

“I’m following your lead, babe.”

Steve was sober, yet with his hands intertwined in yours he felt drunk on love. Laughing so hard, his cheeks hurt as he moved with you, nonstop jumping, screaming, and dancing to the music that resounded through the speakers. Even in the neon lights of the club, nothing shined as bright as you. He would do anything you wanted in order to see you this happy, even if it meant breaking his back to make you break a smile.

He stayed on that dance floor until you were tired and needed to catch a breath. His hand stayed in yours as he drove Nancy and Robin home. He stayed and held your hair back when you threw up in the toilet. And he stayed with you in his arms on your living room couch as you cried at the haunting memories until you fell asleep.

It felt like no one could put you back together, not even yourself, but Steve was the one holding onto you during those times, and he always stayed — even now.

He tossed out the trash bags into the dumpster, placing the donated ones in the trunk of his car to deal with tomorrow. Two vintage VHS tapes sat in the corner of the trunk, something he thought maybe you both could enjoy for the rest of the day.

“I found these.” He wiggled them in the air, locking the front door shut. “I was supposed to return them yesterday, but I’ll just do it when I get back to work on Monday.”

You strided over, swapping the tapes for his drink: Coke with a splash of triple sec. Inspecting the tapes, you moped, looking up at him.

“These are both rom-coms.” You grumbled, taking them towards the living room nonetheless, him following behind you.

Steve muttered out an ‘sorry’ before falling back onto the couch.

“They’re El’s. She gave them to me to return because she didn’t want to bike all the way there. But we don’t have to watch any of them. We can just sit and talk if you want?”

You snorted, setting them down near the player just in case you both decided to watch them later. “About how pathetic I am for still letting him get to me?”

“You’re not pathetic.” He sat the glass down on the coffee table, patting the cushion beside him.

“I feel like I should be over it by now.” You retorted, tossing yourself beside him, slumping into the cushions.

“It’s not that easy especially when you were in love with him.” Steve pointed out, trying to sway you to give yourself more grace.

“I want to believe that he loved me as much as I did him, but I think that would mean I’d be lying to myself.” You admitted, shaking your head at yourself and looking down at your lap while you twiddled with your fingers.

“You don’t think he loved you?” He sought, bringing his hand towards your knee, rubbing comforting circles around it.

You shook your head, scoffing towards yourself, “I don’t even think I know what it feels like to be loved by a man in that sense. I don’t think he saw me or felt that way for me.”

“Why do you think that?”

You shrugged, thinking back to the contents of the letter, the swooping words that had been engrained into your mind like a cursed image you would forever be stuck seeing every time you closed your eyes.

“Because he never showed it, really. That letter… she said that he’d bring her flowers to the office, leave her favorite coffee on her desk with a little note, bring her an extra sandwich when she forgot her lunch…”

You rolled your eyes weakly, cursing in your mind knowing you were the one who made those sandwiches every night and packed them up for him to take, only to give it to the girl he was cheating on you with.

“It’s those little things that I never got. Those small details of the effort he never gave to me.” You pinched your fingers together, half hating that you were revisiting these feelings again and more so loathing that you were dumping it all on Steve.

He gave you a comforting look, nodding for you to go on knowing you had so much to say, and he’d stay here all night until you got it all out of your system. You bit on your lip, shaking your head as you tried to gathering what you’d been feeling.

“The worst part is, I—I feel like I gave him all the best parts of me, and I don’t think I’ll ever love like that again.” You sounded disappointed in yourself, like you had given up on your fairytale happy ending that you always wanted.

Steve’s face twisted, eyebrows pulled together, and a heavy frown playing on his lips.

“Don’t say that.” He scolded tenderly, hating that you amounted yourself to that.

“It’s true,” You laughed so sure of yourself, “I don’t think I have it in me to expect someone to love me the way I really want them to.” You threw your hands into your lap, turning to look out the window.

Steve couldn’t let you live with that thought in your head any longer. He didn’t know when you starting believing that, but he’d be damned if he let you think that your happiness was over just because one guy did you bad. If he could and if you would let him, you would realize that happily ever after was right in front of you the whole time.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.

“What if that someone already does?” Steve clutched your hands, pulling himself closer to you, knees knocking into each other.

Your eyes snapped back to his, staring at him puzzled by the sudden sanguine of his voice, “What?”

He squeezed your hand three times, taking a deep breath as he spoke it out loud once again — this time a little clearer in his phrasing, needing to get this right.

“What if there’s someone out there who doesn’t need to be taught how to love you because they already do?”

His voice was sure of himself, accompanied by a bit of nervousness that only you could decipher as him trying not to get tongue tied.

“What are you saying?” You looked between his eyes, searching for an answer yet only seeing a reflection of yourself clouding his irises.

“That I’m in love with you.” He blurted out without a moment's hesitation.

You stared at him motionless, not knowing if he meant it in the way you thought he did. For all you knew, he could have been referring to the friendship aspect of your relationship. You wanted to be in denial once more, knowing this couldn’t be what you thought it was.

“Steve…” you whispered, hand going slack against his, clearly taken aback.

He didn’t let you let him go, covering your intertwined hands with his free one. Your pulse was practically beating in his palms, the blood rushing through your body in a surge and your heart beating with a rapid thumpthumpthump. You could feel his hands shaking, his chest rising quicker with each second that passed with him trying to gather his words.

“I’m not just saying this. I mean it with everything inside of me.” He promised you, letting his hand release yours only to grip your wrist and bring them to his beating heart.

Despite it all — the nerves and everything that should have shut his body down — his heart stayed steady, beating in sync with yours. He gulped thickly, dropping your hands back to your lap as he stood and paced the small space between your coffee table and the couch.

“I—I’ve been in love with since I could remember you walking into Family Video and running into me and helping me pickup the tapes while you apologized profusely. I’ve known that I have loved you since forever, but I…I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you because I was terrified that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

He halted in front of you, catching his breath hoping you were able to at least understand some of the contents of his ramble, not getting lost in it.

Your shoulders rose with a deep breath you took in. “Why didn’t just—”

“I tried! And I was going to!” He exclaimed swiftly, raking a hand through his hair and tugging in frustration towards himself, because he felt as if he could have prevented this — you getting hurt.

He slowly took his seat next to you, elbows resting on his knees as he focused his sights forward not knowing if he could bear to look into your eyes as he spilled the rest of what he had been keeping inside for so long.

“But after your first date with that idiot I wanted you to tell me that there was something wrong…that you didn’t like him at all. I was gonna swoop in and say that maybe I could make it up to you and finally take you out on a date, but I didn’t because turned out you actually liked him.”

Your heart stopped, chest rising and falling so slowly you thought you could faint. But how could you when Steve was still there confessing his undying love for you?

“I didn’t want to get in between the two of you because it wouldn’t be fair, no matter how much I feel inside for you. I didn’t want to rob you of what could’ve been between you and him.” He swallowed, hanging his head low.

You wished he had stolen your heart and never let it be tainted with the hands of someone who was only going to drop it and hurt you. You wished that he didn’t wait and had been so considerate to the other party, when in reality he was holding back because of you… because he wanted you to be happy even if it wasn’t with him.

“Y-you don’t understand how hard it’s been for me to watch you be treated like a second option, while I stand there and in my head you’ve always first. I…I don’t know why I waited so long to tell you. I’m sorry.” He said hoarsely, head lifting to glance at you where you faced him still reeling from it all.

“Don’t apologize, Steve.” You sighed, shaking your head and placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

He wiggled under your palm, grunting to himself, “No I have to, because god, maybe I could’ve saved you from that piece of shit and what he did. If I would’ve just spoken up and told you that I’m in love with you sooner, things could have been different.”

Maybe he was right, that if he would have said something after that date, things wouldn’t have gotten this far. But perhaps it was fated, the way that it hurt so much at the time and how he thought he would have to spend his whole life getting over you knowing it was going to be impossible.

Break up, break free, break through, break down.

“Things can be different now.” You murmured, jaw trembling at the notion you just let out.

He sat up calmly, beaming into your eyes. “It can?”

You nodded assuringly, taking his hand, intertwining it with yours and giving it three squeezes knowing this was going to be a long road, but you were willing to take it with him.

“You know my number by heart. You come and water my plants when I’m staying late at work, and if I’m lucky, which most times I am, you leave me dinner in the fridge.” You told him, watching as a small smile spread across his face.

Steve did things that friends didn’t always usually do. He was the one who came over and changed your locks for you to save you the stress of not knowing when your ex would show up eventually and let himself in. He was the one who spent hours watching videos on how to do it himself, going back and forth from the hardware store to get everything he needed. He didn’t even let you help, shooing you off to lie in bed and get the rest you had been missing, all the while he made sure you were going to be okay.

He knew it wasn’t going to stop him from eventually coming back, but it was enough to at least give you a warning, something that you deserved after all of it.

“You know when I’m lying and instead of trying to pry me out of it you get me to talk about how I’m feeling.”

Steve was never accusatory when it came to you. He never wanted to shine the light on something you were trying to keep hidden in order to stop him from worrying about you — he knew you had the best of intentions. But he knew he should’ve been the least of your worries. He would stare at the ceiling with you, not saying too much or reading too deep into things, as he just wanted to help you let it all out — melancholy and all.

You took a deep breath, bringing your joined hands into your lap, shaking it mildly, “Y-you care about me so much so that you pick up every call before the second ring, and you…” pausing, you smiled up at him in awe, giving into the feelings and setting yourself free.

“You love me so much that you almost thought you lost the love of your life.”

Sitting eyes wide opened, Steve only had one thing stuck in his mind — you were the love of his life, the bullet that you never were, the thing that he didn’t dodge and even if you were, he’d let you pierce through his heart knowing at least it was you that got him at the end.

“W-what?” He buzzed, swinging his head, hoping he wasn’t reading you wrong.

“I’m falling in love with you, Steve.” You professed, eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

You pursed your lips, shaking your head at yourself, going on with your words.

“I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner, but I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life, and when I met him… a piece of me died because I wasn’t with who I was supposed to be with. Like I wasted all my love on him when you were right in front of me all along.”

It made perfect sense that every time you tried to search for something in his eyes you only saw yourself, not just in the reflection sense, but deeper than that. Past the irises and clouds of hazel, you could tell he was always looking at you, even in a room of faces that in his eyes were blurred into nothing when you were before him.

And like you, when Steve looked in your eyes he saw himself. The way that you would always find him in a crowd before anyone else. He was the first sight you wanted in your views and the last, if anything were to happen to you. Every time you met his, it felt like coming home, a sort of familiarity that even your apartment couldn’t sum up.

Steve shook his head at you, bringing his free hand up to your cheek.

“You didn’t waste all of it… I know you’ve got some left in you.”

You laughed lightly, leaning into his touch as you hummed. “For you, I do.”

“You can love again, let me show you that you can,” He promised, his voice never breaking, a vow that he was ready to make and destined to keep.

Like clockwork, his hands squeezed your three times, and you nodded, knowing he was with you on that road and he wasn’t going to leave you stranded. You could trust him… you always could.

His forefingers held your chin, your eyes fluttering shut, feeling his breath fan against your face.

Oh no, I’m falling in love again.

Your faces slotted into each other, leaning in closer and closer until you felt his lips on yours. Plush skin, brushing against your lips, moving gently together and there you were afraid that it wasn’t going to last… that this was too good to be true.

Oh no, I’m falling in love again

You felt the rise of the elevator, the takeoff on the runaway, the anticipation that settled in before you let it take you wherever it wanted. His hands cupped your cheeks, yours wrapping around his neck, the two of you not daring to leave each other just yet.

Oh, I’m falling in love

Your hearts were beating out of your chest’s, the thumps resounding in the air through your eardrums, letting it be the only thing you could hear. There was no crashing, no turbulence coming through to you — no need to brace yourself for an impact that wasn’t coming.

“I love you,” you whispered breathlessly against him, foreheads pressed together as you both opened your eyes and stared into each other.

“I knew you could.” He beamed, pulling you back to him as you giggled into another kiss that would be many of a lifetime.

You thought the plane was going down, but somehow Steve turned it right around — this time the love would last… just like that.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: this somehow turned into a 6k fic when it was supposed to be a small little blurb...oopsies!!! anyways, i hope you guys like this one -- i feel myself slowly coming out of my writers slump and it's been really nice and refreshing to get to write again without the pressure on my shoulders. labyrinth is also becoming one of my favorites off midnights, i just adore it so much and while it's not so lyric heavy, the production ties it all together. let me know what you guys think and isn't stevie a cutie patootie??!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

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