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mypimpademia · 1 year

Note

how Bakugou, Izuku, Kiri and shigaraki (I don't know if you write for him, if you don't then Tamaki) when their crush (Best Friend)/girlfriend run away the next morning after "do it" last night, Like they wake up and she's gone and they think maybe she regrets it but she's actually buying something to eat.

— Breakfast Runaway

Bakugo x gn! best friend! Reader, Izuku x gn! best friend! Reader, Kirishima x gn! best friend! Reader, Tamaki x gn! best friend! Reader

TW: Suggestive content, implications of sex, swearing, mentions of virginity loss (Izuku & Tamaki), slight angst(? Izuku & Tamaki), mentions of anxiety + failed relationships (Tamaki), implied friends to lovers trope

Note: The request implies a fem reader, but with the way I wrote it, this is gender neutral! :)

— BAKUGO

⇶ Katsuki is a heavy sleeper, so you thought he wouldn’t notice you slipping out of his bed and out his door

⇶ He didn’t so much as stir as you eased the covers off yourself, getting out of bed and scrounging around his room for clothes that weren’t just what you had on last night

⇶ But truthfully, Katsuki was paralyzed with fear and sadness knowing that you were leaving before he even woke up

⇶ Did he do something wrong? Did you regret last night? Was your friendship ruined after all this?

⇶ Katsuki has had a crush on you for a long while, but he never acted on it until last night when you were helping him learn to flirt… as friends, of course

“Holy fuck, you suck at this Katsu.”

Katsuki kissed his teeth, rolling his eyes as you laughed at him.

“Go fuck yourself…” He muttered into his can of Arizona.

You lightly pushed him by the shoulder, making him sway to the side and then back into place.

“See! This is what I’m talking about! You can’t try and flirt with someone, and then tell them to go fuck themselves when you suck! That’s an asshole move!” You lectured.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m an asshole,” he retorted.

At least he’s self aware.

“Yeah, you are,” you chuckled. “Are you at least a good kisser?”

Even though you’d been close friends for so long, Katsuki was never one to talk about his romantic life. Conversations like this were a rarity, and you never missed the opportunity to ask him all kinds of questions.

“I dunno, wanna find out?”

It came out in a not-so-joking tone, and you played on the thought for a moment before brushing it off. You couldn’t kiss him, you were best friends! But if you did, it’d just be as friends, right?

“See! That was good!” You exclaimed, making him roll his eyes once again.

“But seriously, are you?”

⇶ And that was how you found yourself straddling Katsukis lap, him guiding you through a sultry kiss while you whined before pulling away for air, as he moved down to your neck

⇶ He is a good kisser, by the way

⇶ Really good.

⇶ So good that you found kisses to be far too little, and ended up waking up in his bed, getting all sorts of flashbacks from the night before the moment you opened your eyes

⇶ You’ve liked him for a long time, maybe even longer than he liked you

⇶ Katsuki didn’t know it yet, but you felt just as anxious about it all as he did

⇶ Did you do something wrong? Did he regret last night? Was your friendship ruined after all this?

⇶ It wasn’t much, but you felt like going to get breakfast was the very least you could do after unintentionally (but consensually of course) sleeping with your best friend

⇶ Normally, he sleeps like a log, and sleeps in when you come over, so it didn’t even occur to you that he may wake up while you were gone

⇶ Unfortunately for him, he did, and he felt nothing dread throughout his whole body, even as he slinked out of bed and into his bathroom to try and wash away the heavy feeling in his chest

⇶ As he was getting dressed afterwards, he heard keys jingle at his door

⇶ By the time Katsuki left his room, you were already inside and placing styrofoam take out boxes onto the counter, the scent of breakfast flooding the room

⇶ You flashed him a smile and gave him a gleeful good morning, running over to kiss him on the cheek

⇶ Katsuki has never been more happy about breakfast in his life.

— MIDORIYA

⇶ Izuku has never felt more heavy chested in his life than in that moment

⇶ Sleepily reaching over to feel a cold, empty bed, broke his heart into pieces

⇶ He’d had the anxious feeling weighing on him since it all started last night, when he told you he was… inexperienced.

⇶ He’s always been a hopeless romantic, and you both talked about crushes and romantic encounters you had often

⇶ But of course, he never once even remotely mentioned that he may or may not crush on you

⇶ Not until last night

“Are you serious?”

You were gaping at Izuku, and it made him feel slightly embarrassed at the confession.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Just haven’t found the right person.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Yeah I get it, you want someone you trust,” you sympathized.

“Mhm, but at this point, ‘m tired of waiting for someone in like, a romantic way I guess?” Izuku sighed. “‘Cause everytime I get close with someone something happens and I just-”

He ended his sentence with a groan. You chuckled, his previous situationships and relationships playing over in your head.

“I’d do it with a friend honestly,” he admitted. “Not even in a ‘with benefits way’ just as friends.”

“With a friend?” Your eyes widened, and Izuku started blushing and sputtering. “Even me?”

“Yeah…”

⇶ The tension between the two of you was almost too thick to breath through

⇶ Izuku was clearly nervous, as usual

⇶ But you were still gentle with him and asked if he was sure

⇶ You asked for confirmation multiple times as you guided him through everything, and he gave it to you. But once he got more comfortable, he was very clearly more than enthusiastic

⇶ One thing led to another, and you woke up in his bed, and he woke up to you gone

⇶ He’d never admit it now, but his first reaction was to start crying

⇶ Izuku felt beyond hurt at the thought that you’d leave him without a word after that, especially after he told you how much trust he’d have to put into someone for that

⇶ Not to mention just how much he liked you

⇶ Last night felt like a dream that he never wanted to wake up from, but you just seemed to toss it away so easily.

⇶ After awhile, he stopped crying and could do nothing more than lay in his own defeat

⇶ Right as he was getting out of bed, pulling sweatpants on, he heard his front door opening

⇶ Carefully treading into the kitchen, he found you placing take out boxes and drinks onto the counter

⇶ When you saw him, you smiled and said good morning, asking how he felt

“You doing okay, Zuku?”

He gave you an almost dumbfounded expression, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I hope you haven’t been up for a long time,” You told him, kissing his freckled cheek. “I didn’t wanna wake you up, but I went and got us breakfast.”

“Yeah… breakfast. Breakfast…”

— KIRISHIMA

⇶ When Eijiro wakes up and can’t feel your body heat under his heavy arm, his heart drops

⇶ He calls out to you and gets no answer

⇶ But, he tries to be optimistic. He doesn’t want to think that you left without notice

⇶ Eijrio has liked you for a long time, and it was hard to hide as is, but as time went in the tension between you was strong. And last night, the cord snapped

“If anyone I know is going to die alone, it is not you, Eiji.”

You couldn’t even believe the thought of that crossed the mind of someone like him.

Eijiro Kirishima. The gentle giant, the sweetest man you’ve ever met, so loving, so caring, so handsome, so manly— how could he ever end up alone?

“You’ve always got people all over you too! I didn’t forget all of those times we went through your DM requests,” you reminded him, nudging his shoulder.

“Well yeah, but I don’t even want any of those people, not like that at least,” Eijrio huffed, running a large hand through his hair.

“I don’t believe that,” you shook your head, making him cock his to the side. “You’re too much of a lover boy, there’s at least one person. Who is it?”

Eijiro gave an unsure hum, biting his lower lip as a deep blush crawled up his face.

“Who, who, who!” You chanted, lightly slapping at his chest with every word, crawling on top of him as he leaned back. “We tell each other everything, no fucking way this is the one thing you don’t tell me!”

He overpowered you like it was nothing, stopping the movement of your hands with just one of his, and steadying you on top of him by your hip with the other. You were dangerously close, the tips of your noses grazing each other.

Eijiro, being a clueless little thing, had no idea that you liked him back, more than he could ever imagine. The tension between the two of you in that moment was unbearable, you were hoping he’d ignore the way you were shaking.

“If I tell you,” he paused, face twisting into a nervous and sad frown as he brought your faces even closer together, to just barely whisper. “Will we still be friends?”

“We can be whatever you want, Eiji.”

⇶ Playing it back in his head made him a nervous wreck, he couldn’t believe it actually happened

⇶ Did it actually happen? Was it a dream? If it wasn’t then where are you? If you come back what is he supposed to say to you? Does he make it official? Would you think it’s a dick move for him to try and advance with you after having sex?

⇶ Eijiro’s mind was turning to mush from all the thoughts running through his head, he doesn’t even know how he handled himself accordingly last night

⇶ Hearing the creak of his door opening and closing snaps him out of his thoughts

⇶ Throwing on a pair of sweatpants to make himself decent, he’s already perking up, holding absolute faith that it’s you coming through his door

⇶ Thankfully, he was not let down, and he gave you a sharp toothed grin when you met eyes as soon as he stepped into the kitchen

⇶ You quietly said good morning, planting a gentle kiss on his lips before telling him you got the two of you breakfast

⇶ You sat down together and ate, making casual conversation like you would any other time

⇶ You could talk about last night and what your relationship was another time. For now, you had a silent agreement to just enjoy the moment

⇶ Besides, Eijiro was liking wherever the two of you were headed so far

— TAMAKI

⇶ Amajiki can do nothing but try to fight back the tears that well up in his eyes as anxiety consumes him whole

⇶ He tries to keep himself calm, taking deep, shaking breaths, while he puts on a pair of shorts and goes to search around his home for you

⇶ He checks every room, under furniture, high and low hoping that you’re somewhere

⇶ The more he checks, the more tears stream down his rosy cheeks, and the faster his heart beatings

⇶ By the time he’s searched all over, he considers checking outside as well

⇶ But the room is spinning and he can only hear the rapid beat of his heart and labored breathing, and decides it’d be much better to go back to bed

⇶ Amajiki has always been an anxious person, and even he’ll admit that he can be a bit dramatic at times because of it

⇶ But he can wholeheartedly say that he’s never felt more pain in his life.

⇶ He’s had his fair share of failed relationships, but you were his best friend. He confided in you on something that he hasn’t breathed a word about to another soul, and you just left him?

⇶ And he’s so maddeningly in love with you, he thought this was it. You were his end game. Now, he might be going a bit crazy.

“‘M so tired, I don’t think I’ll date anyone again unless they wanna be serious.”

Amajiki was stressing over yet another situationship gone horribly wrong. The poor, sweet thing. He was too nice for his own good, and too smart to top it all off.

He always found that anytime he got romantically involved with someone, it never ended well. Whether it was cheating, lying, or not being true about their feelings, it was always something. He was beginning to think he was the problem.

“You always say that Ama,” you sigh, voice laced with sympathy for your friend. “But I get what you mean, and you’re right. You deserve someone that loves you.”

What he deserves is you.

“And it’s not like you’ll die alone or anything,” you said playfully, trying to lighten his mood. “If we’re both single at 30, we’re getting married, remember?”

Amajiki loved you with every fiber of his being, more than you’d ever know. But was that supposed to make him feel better? Having never found love by the age of 30 is what it takes for you to want something that even vaguely resembles a romance with him?

He didn’t know it, but that was far from the case. Amajiki could propose to you right here, right now, with the broken tab of a soda can, and it’d feel like a dream come true. You couldn’t even fathom how those people treated him the way they did. You felt like you were losing 10 years off your life everytime he sought love from anyone other than you.

“Yeah, but I’ll die a virgin.” He huffed.

He didn’t think you heard him, but your silence and shocked expression said otherwise.

Amajiki didn’t even have anything to say for himself, the tips of his ears turning as red as his face. He began to try and stutter something out, but it came out so incoherent he opted to not speak at all.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” you said, treading lightly around the subject. “Listen Amajiki, I love you.”

You told each other ‘I love you’ all the time, but this time felt different. You were walking on eggshells and he could tell. He wanted to interrupt ask what you meant, but you were saying more than he could comprehend at once.

“I really love you,” god, he hopes you meant that in the way he thinks you do. “Y’know I’ll always help you out.”

“I’d do anything for you, honestly.”

⇶ Amajiki knew what you meant, but he needed through clarification before he did anything

⇶ Asked you to explain everything you said down to the way you said it

⇶ It was embarrassing for both of you, but he was much more embarrassed for you

⇶ The whole night felt like puppy love

⇶ Soft, playful, caring, excited, and pure

⇶ After Amajiki went back to his bed, in attempts to calm himself down, he fell back asleep

⇶ He’d only woken up a few minutes ago, but tired himself out from all the crying and panicking

⇶ 10 minutes later, you finally came back with breakfast, and went to go get Amajiki

⇶ You lightly shook him away, quietly calling out to him as you did so

⇶ He groaned as he blinked sleep from his eyes

⇶ Amajiki called out to you, sounding surprised that you were there

“Ama, I went and got us breakfast. You wanna eat?”

You had a gentle hand on his face, and he leaned a tear stained cheek into your touch.

“You went and got.. breakfast?” Amajiki muttered, opening one of his puffy and bloodshot eyes.

“Mhm,” you confirmed.

“Ama… have you been crying?”

—

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anikaluv · 1 year

Text

JUST FOR PRACTICE —

❤︎︎ pairing: Miles (e!42) × fem!reader

❤︎︎ genre: fluff (slight angst?)

❤︎︎ cw: cussing, nail biting, Miles (e!42) is named Myles (creative Ik), Miles (e!42) teases reader a lil bit <3

❤︎︎ summary: Spider-Man!Miles and Prowler!Miles as Twins where you have a crush on Miles (e!1610) and Miles (e!42) suggests you make out with him for practice.

❤︎︎ w/c: 1.6k

❤︎︎ a/n: I was reading miles morales x reader fics then I thought of this and went “It would be so cool if someone wrote it”. Then I did, cause I’m a bitch who gets shit done. 😘

PART TWO EXTRA

You and Miles have been inseparable since y’all were born. You two seemed to be tied together like a knot. You could always fondly go back and look through memories of him holding your hand while leading you through forests, him sharing his PB&J’s with you during lunch time, and him protecting you numerous times from bullies as the years went by. He was always there for you.

So much that you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

Yet you were too scared to ruin the deep friendship you two have. Too terrified of the chance that everything you two had going to waste because of your feelings, so you kept to yourself.

Which leads you to the present day, you sit on Miles’ bed as he takes a shower before you start the study session you both had planned.

Nervously, you fidget with your fingers, eagerly awaiting his return. The truth is, you don't need these study sessions. As an all-A student, you grasp the subjects effortlessly. However, you seize any opportunity to spend time with Miles.

Your mind wonders as curious eyes scan his room and land on his sketchbook. Your instinctively get up and reach for it, not caring for the overstep of privacy because c’mon, you knew this guy before you knew how to walk.

Excitement courses through you as you eagerly flip through the pages, revealing beautiful sketches of family, sunflowers, among other things. However, as you reach the more recent pages, your heart starts to sink.

Gwanda, Miles' so-called friend who conveniently always seems to be "out of town," yet he never ceases to endlessly complement her and fills his sketchbook to the brim with pages of her. What's so extraordinary about her? You've known Miles since you both were starting to crawl, while she has only been in his life for a few months, and suddenly she's this incredible person?

With a heavy sigh, you set your sketchbook down, feeling your vision blur as you make your way back to sit on Miles' bed. Tears well up quickly as you bury your face in your hands, sobbing silently. Unfortunately, the sound of approaching footsteps awakens your senses. You hastily wipe your eyes with your sleeve, although it's already too late.

"Oh great, looks like la llorona (crybaby) is sobbing once more. What's the matter, ma?" Miles strolls in, his voice oozing with condescension. He leans against the doorway, owning a smug expression. You can't help but roll your eyes and let out an exasperated groan at the mere sight of him.

Myles Morales. The worst person you’ve ever met. You’ve always wondered how him and Miles are even related. Ever since you were little he’s been a stick up your ass. You would always go back and flinch through memories of him pulling your hair as you scream and cry, him destroying all of your brand new dolls because they “needed a makeover ” , and him notoriously bullying you numerous times mercilessly as the years went by. He was always there, annoying you.

You cross you arms and let out a exasperated huff as you turn away from him. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy Morales? I’m not in the mood.” Myles chuckles at your childish behavior and struts into the room to sit beside you.

He inspects your face, frowning at your red eyes and stuffy nose. “I’m serious, mami. Those pretty tears only look good on your face if I’m causing ‘em.“ Myles softly grabs your chin and moves your face towards his. He raised his fingers to softly wipe your tears as you look deeply into his eyes.

Your heart quickens yet instead you release the insult bubbling in your throat. "Thanks for your oh-so-worrisome concern, Morales," you retort, venom lacing your words. He smirks in response. “Anytime, princesa (princess). I’m serious though, you cryin’ cause of my brother again?” You nod slowly looking away from his pitying gaze.

You bite your nails as your eyes look around the room once more landing on Miles sketchbook. Pain flickers in your eyes, catching Myles' attention.

The realization settles in Myles which is showcased by his new scowl on his face. “Ah I see, Its cause of that lil’ white chick, right?” Your eyes widen at how Myles was able to guess it correctly, you nod again slowly and try to concentrate on breathing before you continue wailing. “I just don’t understand, what’s so special about her? Was I ever even special to him if I could be replaced so easily?” You clench your fists, digging your nails into the fabric of your jeans, scrunching them up as your lip quivers.

Myles sucks his teeth in annoyance, followed by a deep sigh that catches your attention. “Why don’t you just tell him this, ma? Bet that’ll make him realize what’s in front of him.” You quickly shake your head, rejecting the idea. "I can't. It's not that simple. If I confess how I truly feel, what if it ruins everything? I can't risk that," you explain anxiously. Myles rolls his eyes at your dramatic response.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?" he asks, testing the waters. There’s a different look in Myles eyes, they’re filled with mischief as he slowly scoots towards you.

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?" You answer your voice layered with curiosity at Myles newfound demeanor. You tilt your head in confusion, What was he planning?

A gasp escapes your lips as Myles firmly grabs you waist tightly. His big hands pull you against him harshly. Instantly his lips lock with yours, showcasing deep desire as his kisses you. Your eyes widen momentarily before you surrender, closing them gently and placing a hand on his chest.

You wrap your arms around Myles' neck, deepening the kiss, your tongues intertwining desperately. He tastes so sweet, like slightly burnt caramel. Your body molds into his, feeling the hard contours of his muscled yet lean chest beneath your palm as you press into him.

You let out a soft whine against his lips, the sound echoing with a mix of pleasure and longing. Your breaths become heavy, synchronized with the intensity of the moment. Your mind becomes fuzzy, confused how you got to this point.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?"

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?"

“Why not just practice the having the real thing wit me?” Myles watched you scoff at the idea and laughs softly.

“I’m serious, ma. C’mon, just for practice, it’ll only be fo a lil bit. Just imagine I’m him” Myles brings his face closer to yours making your noses brush against each other.

“It’ll only be for a sec right?”, you question Myles nods, sensing he’s winning you over. “Promise, mi alma (my soul)”

You nod your head, and that gave him everything he needed.

Now you have your arms wrapped around Miles neck, playing with his braids as he layers kisses across your collarbone, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Myles tugs at your shirt rising it up to lay his hand against your waist skin to skin. The heat from his hand placed on your waist shoots heat throughout your body.

You begin to sway, your strength ebbing away as your mind becomes blissfully hazy. Myles, ever attentive, keeps you steady, his hand resting firmly on your back while the other remains securely on your waist. He rises slightly, locking eyes with you, a playful chuckle escaping his lips as he delights in your slightly intoxicated-like state.

“C’mon, mi vida, you can’t be tired yet. I just got you.” he playfully teases, causing your face to twist with confusion. You lean your head into his shoulder leaving kisses along his neck.

Myles takes up your hand and interlocks it with his fingers. He tilts your face up to him. You look into his eyes and see something there, you just can’t tell what. He places kisses laced with adoration across your face, feeling like lighting sparks erupting across your skin.

“Mami, I haven’t always been the nicest to you, I admit that, but I also wanna admit that I-“

Right on cue, you once again hear the steps of someone walking towards the room. It must be Miles finishing his shower.

Your suddenly feel a wash of consciousness rush through your senses as you try to shuffle and fix your wrinkled clothing and correct your shriveled hair. Myles watches you and smirks at your attempt to clean up.

Miles soon steps into the room wearing a fresh set of clothes, “Sorry it took me so long, I got way into my shower playlist haha. You ready to sta-“ He eyes land on you and Myles, you watch as his face turns to confusion.

“Imma take that as my sign to leave” Myles gets up and heads to the doorway and starts to head out, before he turns his neck around to say one more thing. “I’ll see you around, ma. Let me know if you ever need more practice aight?”

EXTRA: You hurriedly shuffle to your backpack to go get your notebooks and supplies you usually use for your study sessions. As you do that Miles can’t help but watch as his brother slowly struts out the room pride written all over his face. Miles swore that as his twin left the room his could see a lipstick stain adorning Myles’ neck.

ENDING A/N: Thank you for reading this- Ion know if imma keep writing I just felt like making this at 2 am lol. Also please lmk if this is fast paced or not, that was on my mind while writing this whole thing. 💀 Love ya’ll babes <3

TAGS:

#anika❤︎︎writes #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales × reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales spider man #prowler miles #earth 42 miles x reader #atsv miles #atsv #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff

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uhohdad · 6 months

Text

HIS

Stalker!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

Word Count: 10k AO3

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, No use of y/n, AFAB & Feminine Reader, Unreliable Narrator, Non-Consenual Voyeurism, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, Abusive Relationships, Depictions of: Non-Con Sex, Choking, Hair-Pulling, Spanking, Slut-Shaming, Bad German, Orgasm Torture, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Smoking, Konig has a Love/Hate Relationship with Reader, Implications of Ghost x Reader, hopefully the reader isn’t too out of character for y’all, unfortunately this one had to be more detail oriented, you will be making an uncharacteristic amount of phone calls i’ll tell you that much

Continuation of this, but can be enjoyed stand-alone

He dreamt of you last night.

You were ethereal, liebe. A true angel - floating down to him in his dark isolation, basking him in your elegant golden light. He finally had your attention. The pleasure of having your gaze fixed on him, nothing but adoration in your sparkling eyes. Your hand extended gracefully out to him, delicate fingers cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek. A gesture of appreciation for the hours he poured into you, an acceptance of his protection. An apology, for denying him the ownership that he had earned over and over again.

An ownership he was overdue for.

A chill wrapped its fingers around Konig’s spine, unforgiving frost spreading from his core to his fingertips. Your expression had changed without transition, eyes suddenly pooled with malice, lips tightened in disgust. A growl thick with hatred reverberated through him when the thrust of your arm plunged a sword through his heart.

Frantic callused hands scramble to the wound, relieved to find only a shirt drenched in sweat as Konig shook the haze of sleep. Relieved to know you hadn’t seen him for what he really was, that you hadn’t rejected him so cruelly.

He was beginning to resent you for the sleep deprivation. He knew you were going to let him sleep in today. Every Saturday, after a long week of watching over you, you thank him with an opportunity to sleep in.

You ruined it.

Taunting him in his dreams - fooling him even after everything he’s sacrificed, letting him taste a moment where his fantasy comes true, only to rip it away from him so brutally.

Konig soothed himself by lying back, easing himself into the first half of his dream. He replayed the vivid image of you stroking his cheek, looking at him in astonishment after learning about everything he’s done for you.

Maybe he could forgive you for tearing open his chest. For letting him feel true bliss, even for a moment. To let him know what it would feel like to have you.

It’s the least you could do.

Konig doesn’t even recognize himself anymore. He’s entirely off the rails, fully succumb to his depraved behavior, helpless to the urges you’ve scraped to the surface. It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

His passions, his dreams, his reputation - it all pales in comparison to you. Nothing he cared about before matters now. He feels like an addict, powerless to his addiction and chasing the high. He revolves around you, the center of his universe. He’s sure you’re the reason he’s alive. You consume every waking moment of his day, and now his dreams.

And you can’t even be bothered to look at him.

Ungrateful little brat.

You had a late start to the day, making Konig wait for you to sleep off last night’s drinks. It was well into the afternoon when you left your quarters, wearing your civilian clothes and attention glued to your phone as you navigated the paths of the base.

It was a breath of fresh air to see your face again. He’d been drowning, choking on his pitiful existence when you were apart. Dread eats him alive from the inside out, a swarm of maggots and flies deteriorating the meat of his flesh and organs. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand without being with you every moment of the day.

But here you are, his light, his warmth. He can feel you coursing through his veins - another hit of the drug he couldn’t get enough of.

You looked perfect in your jeans and t-shirt. It’s nice to see you out of the drab and ill-fitting clothes the military forces on you. The denim hugs the curve of your ass and meld tight to perfect hips and thighs. He thinks of the show you gave him last night, the way your ass looked in the thin fabric of your panties. He knows what’s underneath those jeans. You can hide it from the rest of the world, but not from him.

You’re not paying attention, liebe. Fingers pecking away at your phone, only glancing up to make sure you didn’t bump into anyone.

It’s dangerous to be alone like this, even more so to be unaware of your surroundings.

You always do this.

How could you be so careless?

This is why he has to sacrifice everything to protect you. To keep prying eyes and itchy fingers away from you while your guard is down.

Your brows pinch as you focus on your phone, lips silently reading the text that fills your screen.

Who is so important that you must risk your safety to return their message?

He wants to sprint up to you, close enough that he can look over your shoulder to read your messages. It takes strength for him to restrain himself, to wait until you’re far enough away before standing from his bench, his boots following in your wake.

Konig’s longed to get his hands on your phone for some time. He knows that phone contains secrets about you he could only dare to dream about. It’s the key to knowing your inner desires, to put him in the position to serve you as best he can. Your intimate messages, browser history, photos.

He wonders if you have nudes on your phone. The very thought sends his blood rushing.

Swiping through your dirty pictures, a collection of obscene poses from his muse. One of you arching your back and pushing your tits out for the camera. Another with you sticking out your tongue, begging to taste him and ready to choke on his cock. On your back, thighs spread, displaying a wet cunt ripe for tasting. On your knees, ass up and waiting impatiently for him to pound you ruthlessly from behind.

His fantasy is tainted by the sharp and scorching realization that if you did have nudes on your phone - you’ve sent them to someone. The thought of another man daring to lay his unworthy eyes on you has his eye twitching, a searing heat already peeling his skin.

Why would you give yourself away, like you’re worth nothing?

He forces a deep breath, redirecting his focus to his pace, strides nearly double the length of yours. He hates having to follow you from so far away. He wants to walk beside you. Towering next to you - he wants everyone to know who you belong to, the mountain they would have to conquer if they wanted to get to you.

He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire journey to your destination, delightfully surprised when you step into the mall. He was worried that you were foolish enough to go somewhere unsavory all by yourself. It’s even better that you were going somewhere with plenty of people around, enough for him to blend in the crowd. Such a wide-open building, perfect for him to keep a watchful eye on you even from a distance.

Maybe today you’ll make it easy for him.

He’s getting tired of you being difficult.

When you duck into a clothing store, Konig can’t help the smile that creeps on his face.

Going to pick out new clothes to model for him?

Oh, you really were being a good girl today.

He’s eager to see what you buy, heart rate accelerating as he imagines the possibilities. He’s already dressing you up in his mind like his little doll.

He settles at a table in the food court with a perfect view. You seemed to be in a rush - not wasting time as you scrape hangers across the metal clothing racks. Eyebrows pinched in concentration, jaw slightly cocked as you pressed your tongue to your teeth. You look cute when you’re focused.

Konig’s brow perks when you stop in your tracks, attention caught by a dress on the end display. Your face relaxes when you lay eyes on it, delicate hands running over its fabric. It was beautiful - a soft pastel blue, intricate azure and yellow flowers blooming on its pattern, a thin white lace stitched along the neckline. It was a dress fit for a princess, fit for his wife. He dives headfirst into a daydream about you wearing it once he’s domesticated you, hem dancing when you greet him with a kiss after a long day. His hands would find your waist when you stand on tippy toes to give him his welcome home kiss.

You flip the price tag before moving on, and his smile falls flat.

That’s the one. That’s the dress you’re meant to wear.

You like it, don’t you?

You stop every so often to check the time on your phone, pulling a face when you do so. Running late to something, he’s sure. Where are you supposed to be? And what’s so important that you needed a new outfit?

He watches you pull a hanger free, a black dress you hold up high enough to obscure his view of you.

No, liebe.

Don’t even think about it.

He can tell from his spot across the walkways that it’s too revealing. It would cut short at your mid-thigh, neckline that’s designed to show off your cleavage. Skin tight and would leave nothing to the imagination.

The kind of dress that would attract the attention of the wrong people.

Of course you would do this.

Dressing yourself like the slut you are.

A scowl smears across his face as he watches you walk up to the cashier.

So you were going to be difficult today.

Just when he thinks you’re finally cutting him some slack, you go out of your way to misbehave.

You’re quick to leave, whorish dress packed away in a white plastic bag and resting on the crease of your arm. Your hands find your phone again, a slight wince at something on your screen.

He’s too disappointed with your clear lack of judgment to think about what’s on your phone that’s stealing your attention.

He has to close his eyes, a few deep breaths to calm himself before he loses control, before he gives in and teaches you a lesson that you so desperately need.

His fists stay tight at his sides, knuckles splotched white on tight fists as he follows you out of the mall in haste.

With a hitch of his breath the rage carried on tensed shoulders lifts.

It’s the sun shining on your hair that grounds him this time. Locks shimmering, revealing their true color to him as the breeze makes your soft tufts dance. Your skin glows in the sun’s warmth - it takes him right back to the euphoria of his dream. Your light, liebe - he can see it.

Your pace slows when you reach behind you, pulling your phone from the sheath of your jean pocket. He can’t see your face, but he watches from behind as you bring it to your ear.

He seized his opportunity to close ground, enough that he can hear your side of the conversation. He normally wouldn’t get so close to you, but you seem to be extra distracted today, and Konig is too curious to miss out on your phone call.

“I know! I know, I’m sorry. I’m almost at the subway. I’ll be there in 20.”

Hearing your voice makes his heart skip a beat. He missed that beautiful voice, silky smooth and goes down like honey.

Especially when you sound so apologetic.

Is this what it’ll be like when you finally own up to the grief you’ve put him through?

There’s a pause before you speak again, a small laugh escaping you.

“He can wait.”

He?

Konig’s thoughts race before you had even finished your sentence, his moment of enamor shattering like rose-colored glasses.

Who’s he?

Is ‘he’ who you picked out that promiscuous dress of yours for?

Anyone who would be okay with that dress doesn’t have your best interests in mind, liebe. Konig knows what’s best for you, and it’s getting harder to watch from the sidelines as you make mistakes time and time again. He’s ready to interfere, to take control away from you, since you’re clearly not responsible enough to do it yourself. Someone needs to put their foot down. You’re begging for him to step in, to discipline you until you can demonstrate you’re capable of behaving.

“Uh,” You trail off in a hum before you respond, “I don’t know about that. You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“I don’t know.” You say with a whine, “This is already a lot for me. I don’t… this really isn’t my thing.”

“No!” You squeak out, followed by a forced casual, “No.” You’re suddenly flustered, stopping in your tracks when a nervous laugh escapes you. You make a quarter turn and Konig flinches when he sees your face, searching around for a quick escape.

“Just because I talk about him a lot doesn’t mean I like him.”

Konig’s eye twitches at ‘him.’ Who are you talking about so often that you’re being accused of crushing on someone?

Maybe you were talking about Konig.

He doubts it, but the idea dulls the edge of the blade you’re slicing him with.

“Because…” You huff, bailing on a sentence you started without thinking through, “Okay, fine. I’ll try. For you.”

What mess were you getting yourself into, liebe? He doesn’t like the sound of this at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m at the station now. See you soon.” Your phone slips back into your pocket.

Going on the subway all by yourself. Look at you, inviting danger in.

He’s locked onto your ass as you make the descent into the underground, hips swaying with each step down the concrete stairs.

If you look this distracting in jeans, what attention do you think you’ll attract in that fucking dress?

You reach for your wallet once you’re down the stairs, the pad of your finger freeing your subway card from its slot.

Shit.

He doesn’t have a subway card.

His gaze flicks to the kiosks before back to you, already swiping your card and pushing through the turnstiles. He scans the crowd before he lands on a pair of cops monitoring the station, ruining his chance to jump the stiles.

He almost drops his wallet as he fumbles for cash, rushing to the kiosk to pay.

He’s pleading under his breath for the machine to process faster. He’s convinced the kiosk could sense his fear, uncooperative to the forceful press of its buttons. Panicked glances over his shoulder reveal you progressing through the station until you’re around the corner and out of sight.

He’s lost track of you by the time he secures his card. The crowd parts for him, his intimidating stature coming in handy as he makes laps around the station before he realizes you’re gone, with no way for him to know where you are headed. A blackhole of dread swallows him whole - sweat escapes the flustered heat that blistered his skin, heart pounding against his ribcage. His hand finds his head, quiet but rigid expletives riding his exhales.

Why do you have to make things so hard for him?

He’s failed you. He’s sorry, liebe. He’s supposed to be your guard. Anything that happens to you tonight will be his fault. He suspects you’re really going to be acting out tonight, going somewhere out of your comfort zone with other men, dressed like a prostitute. Your light on display for anyone to dim.

White hot flashes of grabbing hands, lingering eyes, and cheap compliments invade his thoughts, stomach tightening and threatening to retch.

This is your fault.

You’re just a foolish little girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her. You’ve pushed him to his limit, he can’t let this go on anymore.

If you won’t behave, he’ll just have to show you how a good girl acts.

It takes him too long to realize he’s holding his breath, fist clenched and teeth grit as his rage burns him from the inside out. His eyes pinch shut as he tries to recenter himself, forcing deep breaths through his tightened jaw.

Nothing too extreme.

A gentle nudge.

A push to test the waters, to see if you can handle the expectations that go along with being his. To give you an opportunity to change your indecent behavior before he puts you in your place the hard way.

————————————————————-

Konig’s taken the lives of countless men, a ruthless brute in the heat of the battlefield. He’s been in thousands of life or death circumstances, finding himself on the other end of blades and triggers on a near daily basis. He thrives in danger.

It’s nothing in comparison to the adrenaline coasting through his veins as he picks the lock to your quarters.

He can hear his heartbeat, the rush of his blood deafening him as he crouches in front of your door, head snapping side to side to ensure the coast remains clear. He‘s nauseous with excitement, stomach churning and sweat soaking his clothes.

There’s a part of him, a sliver thin remnant of the respectable man he used to be, that manifests as a weight of guilt in his stomach. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, that he was so far beyond the line he couldn’t even see it anymore. This was a new magnitude of violating your privacy.

He knows that if he got caught, he’d be discharged faster than he could explain himself. He’d lose you, his warmth.

You left him no choice.

If you didn’t want this to happen, you shouldn’t have run from him. You’ve given him the perfect opportunity. He’s got more than enough time to get his fix, and it’s the only substitute he’ll accept for missing an evening without his eyes you.

When the lock finally pops, hands fumbling for the knob, he miscalculates his strength and sends himself tripping into your room. Quickly but quietly shutting the door behind him, clicking your lock back into place before standing straight, hands falling to his side.

The rush of standing in your room crashes over him like a wave, dizzy and disoriented as he takes you in.

He can’t believe he’s here.

In your room.

It doesn’t feel real, an out-of-body experience. A dream. His dream.

He doesn’t dare move for a full minute, breathing heavily as he fidgeted in his spot.

When he finally works up the courage to move, he inches himself towards your captivating things. A gloved finger grazes across your dresser as he inspects the belongings scattered on its surface.

He picks up a perfume, carefully uncapping it and bringing it up to his nose. With a deep inhale, his eyes flutter shut as he takes the scent of you in.

Immediate warmth pools in the pit of his stomach, already straining against the give in his pants. He spritzes into the air, the sun shining through the slats in your blinds catching on the cloud of mist. He’s hoping your scent will linger with him during his stay. He snaps the cap on with a satisfying pop and ensures he places it down exactly where he found it, cautious to leave little indication of his visit.

A shimmer catches his attention, eyes drawn to a dainty necklace. Two fingers lift it in the air, letting its reflection sparkle while he inspects the metal. He wants to put it in his pocket, a little trinket of his visit. Something to remind him that it wasn’t a dream. A piece of you to bring him comfort whenever he’s away from you. A good luck charm.

He resists the urge, placing it back on the dresser in a pile of intricate looped chains.

Your hairbrush is next, shaky fingers wrapping around the handle. His thumb skims over the bristles, watching them through half-lidded eyes as they rhythmically spring back into place. He inspects the glossy stray strands left behind in a tangled mess, imagining you gliding the brush through your gorgeous hair, your fingers following in its wake as you hum a soft tune.

He’s setting all your things down carefully, not only because he doesn’t want to leave evidence behind, but because he knows the worth of your priceless treasures.

He leans down, giving him a closer view of a polaroid taped to the edge of your mirror. You and a friend, eyes crinkled with big cheesy smiles plastered on your faces, arms wrapped around each other in a close embrace. Konig finds himself smiling at the photo, touching the border with the pad of his finger. He wishes that was him next to you, him you were embracing tightly, him you were happy just to sit next to each other on a night out.

He steadily slides a dresser drawer out, mindful to the sound of wood scraping against itself. Inside he finds your pajamas. He pulls his gloves off with his teeth, reaching in to stroke the material with his knuckle.

He grabs the shirt on top, oversized and well-worn. Broken in and softened over hundreds of restful nights. He brings it to his face and takes another inhale, getting high off the smell of your fabric softener and the image of you drowning in the shirt.

Once you’re in his grasp, he’ll make sure you only sleep in his shirts, liebe. Exposed thighs and legs peeking out from beneath his shirt that barely clings to your shoulders. A clear representation of the size difference between you two. A reminder to you of just how small and powerless you are compared to him.

He brushes the fabric against his stubbled jaw to know what it would feel like to rest his head on your shoulder. To bury his face into your chest after a long day. To rest his head on your stomach while you comb your fingers through his hair.

He wants to take it with him. Cut eye holes and replace his hood with it so that he can wear your shirt over his head every day, high off your scent as he inhales you in with each breath he takes.

He gently folds the shirt and puts it back into its place, closing the drawer before moving on to another. He thumbs through the rest of your clothes until he gets to a drawer that makes him freeze, heart stopping and fingers still laced around the handle of your dresser drawer.

Your panties.

His cock is at full attention now, painfully hard and leaking precum. Trembling hands make a slow descent, meticulously choosing his favorite. He holds them up to get a better look, picturing you filling them out, just as you were last night. The lower half of your ass peeking out to tease him. He didn’t think he would ever be jealous over scraps of cotton, but he knows these panties have kissed your perfect cunt and soaked up your arousal, everything he was entitled to.

He can’t help himself this time, liebe.

You have to understand that he can’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

A reward, for all of the hard work he’s poured into you. For everything he’s sacrificed for you.

He stuffs your panties into his underwear, casual and discreet, as if he were stealing them in front of a crowd. He even looks side to side, just to make sure no one was watching over his shoulder. The feeling of your panties pressed up against his cock had him throbbing, staining the fabric a shade darker with precum. With a slight twitch of his hips, the head of his cock forces against the bundled cloth, electricity sparking through his lower half. He swallows hard, mouth turned cotton.

Konig’s getting intoxicated off of you, less gentle when he rummages through your nightstand. His arousal is taking control now, he’s desperate to uncover more of your dirty little secrets.

He holds a sharp breath, lips parting when he uncovers your vibrator. A deep purple and molded into the shape of bunny ears.

There’s a twinge of jealousy, accompanied by a pull of his lips.

Why use a toy when you can have the real thing, liebe? You don’t need a toy when you have him. He’d pleasure your cunt anytime you ask, lapping at your clit until you’re screaming his name. His tongue coercing orgasm after orgasm until you’re begging for him to stop, tears streaming down your face at the overstimulation. He’ll make you regret even asking him to pleasure you.

The jealousy is shelved when he pictures you on your back, legs spread and displaying your perfect pussy for him. Glistening with your arousal, face twisted in euphoria as you sway your hips on the vibrations. Soft moans would spill from your mouth, breathy whispers of Konig’s name on your tongue.

He stumbles backward onto your bed, hand reaching blindly behind him to find the mattress as he studies the soft silicone of your toy.

He can’t help himself anymore. He’s sorry, liebe. His erection borders on painful, balls swollen and cock begging for release.

It’s your fault.

Putting your promiscuous toys and dainty panties on display for anyone to find.

He lies back on your bed that creaks and flexes under his large stature, his head nestling comfortably on your pillow.

He fumbles the button of his pants, sloppily freeing his cock from the restraint of his waistbands. He wraps the jumbled mess of your panties around his shaft, holding the fabric in place as he grasps his base and steadily pumps himself.

You’re straddling him, cunt grinding against him through drenched panties. Biting your lip while you rock your clit on him, looking down at him with eyes glazed with lust.

He’s had enough of your teasing, liebe. He’ll punish you for working him up like this.

Yanking your panties to the side, lubing the tip of his swollen dick on your slicked rim. Tight grip indenting the flesh of your hips as he forces you down on his thick cock, watching your face twist while you strain to work around his girth. The biggest you’ve ever had. He has to train you, stretch out your tight little cunt so you can handle a good pounding. He’ll ruin that cunt, leave you a gaping cum-filled mess for any other man that dares to try. No one else will ever compare once he’s finished with you.

“Konig, I can’t-”

“You will.”

You’re soaking, liebe, just a wet little mess dripping down his pulsing cock.

His fingers slide down to your thighs, nails digging into you once you’re flush with the base of his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you struggle to take him.

“Look at me.”

You obey like the good girl you’re supposed to be, looking to him with pitiful, pleading eyes as he lifts you, a sharp gasp escaping when he buries fully into you.

He holds you in place with a strict grip, hovering inches above him while he thrusts up, mercilessly fucking your hole like the cock sleeve you are.

Choking on your moans, overstimulated by a mixture of pain and pleasure that has you squeezing around him.

“Take it like a braves Mädchen.”

A sob leaves you as he pounds into you, limply doubling over before he catches your upper arms, propping you up like a rag doll.

“Alle meine. You understand me, brat? All mine.”

A raw cry scratches the back of your throat, tits bouncing relentlessly against your ribs as he tortures your g-spot. An involuntary whimper rhythmically with each thrust, arms sore from Konig’s harsh grasp.

He forces you forward, bending you at your core so he can catch one of your nipples in his mouth with a tight suck. He doesn’t waver from his strict plunges into your cunt as his tongue eagerly circles the sensitive bud. The pleasure amplifies under the stimulation, he can tell by the roll of your eyes and the way you collapse in his arms, hypnotized by his power and stuttering out his name with broken breath. Giving yourself to him.

A brain dead, cock drunk little slut.

His hand snakes around the back of your head to grab a fist full of hair, a stiff yank forcing your neck to crane and pulling him off your tit with a pop. His spit turns cool over your nipple, tightening the pink flesh with a chill down your spine. Nails scratching desperately into his glistened chest, begging for mercy.

You won’t get any from him, little girl.

You’re his.

A toy to dump his cum into, a wet hole for him to ruin, a doll to control.

The clapping of slicked flesh on flesh fills the room, tugging your hair down to keep you from wiggling away from the ruthless fucking. Your swollen clit slaps against his mound with each bottom out, intertwining with the unforgiving pleasure of your abused g-spot and knitting into a cruel euphoria.

“Listen to your pathetic moans. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

The hand gripping your hair releases suddenly, repositioning to clench around your throat, silencing your moans with a threatening squeeze.

Your eyes snap open, an intoxicating fear spread on your features as your eyes beg for release. Pointlessly clawing at his grip, fighting for your stolen breath. He’s addicted to the way your horror steadily builds with each passing second he doesn’t let go.

He waits until your expression loosens, until your eyes cross and you’re seeing double. When he morphs into a blurry figure, floating farther and farther away from you, and the only thing you can possibly focus on is the brutal pounding of your cunt.

He lets you go seconds before you faint, cunt squeezing down on him with each desperate cough for breath. He grabs onto two fistfuls of ass, spreading you apart. Opening that cunt, making sure to fill you to the brim with each slam into you.

“Ko- gn’na cum!”

“Beg for it.”

A desperate, breathless cry tears your throat.

“Please, Konig! Please!”

A hand winds back, full palm returning to give a harsh smack to your ass. When you gasp in surprise, his grip tightens threateningly, voice lowered to a vicious growl.

“Address me properly.”

“Pl-” You’re briefly distracted by the rhythmic pounding, trailing off before he leaves another imprint of his hand on your ass.

“Please, Colonel! I-” The words get stuck in your throat, but your desperation pushes them through, so raw and pleading it doesn’t register to you as your own voice. You let off on a whine, eyes screwing shut while your body is degradingly shaken under the powerful bucks of his hips.

“Do it, brat. Cum.”

He watches your face contort, mouth fully gaped, suddenly radio silent as you convulse on his cock. He doesn’t let up on you, taking advantage of your walls tightening around him.

When your voice returns, you’re squeaking out anguished whimpers, squirming away from the progression into overstimulation.

He doesn’t let up. Your pleasure is nothing but collateral, liebe. He’ll use you until he’s finished. Bully you with his fat cock, ignoring your weak begging and futile attempts to pry yourself from his grasp.

It’s the harsh ripples of his orgasm - the warm droplets of his cum landing on his stomach, the sound of him choking on a hitched breath in the dead silence of your bedroom - that shocks him back into his pathetic reality.

Tensed muscles relax seconds after he’s milked the last of his intense finish, his sweat and shame wrapping him in a suffocating blanket.

He’s defiled you, liebe. A slimy creep, breaking into your sacred space and getting off in your bed. Where you lay your head after a long day, hiding from the world under these cozy covers. He’s tainted the sanctity of an angel’s hollow.

A disgusting, selfish pervert.

He buries his face into your pillow, breathing you in as he catches his breath and wipes away his mess with your panties.

“Tut mir leid.” He whispers into your silken pillowcases. He’s sorry, liebe. He didn’t mean to lose control like this. To let him get this close to you, close enough his depravity bleeds into your personal life. He meant to keep his distance, to keep you safe from him and his degenerative sickness.

But here he is, in your bed, pretending that you’ve welcomed him here. That he was giving you a fucking fit for a whore.

He feels dirty, he wants to shed his skin, to get a fresh start. A life where he never even met you. Where he never gave you full control over him. Where he never succumbed to his atrocious urges.

It’s too late.

You ruined his life.

His best course of action was a shower, to wash away the evidence of his sin and maybe feel clean again. To feel worthy of you again.

To bathe in your scent and take it with him.

To steal just a sliver of your light and wear it proudly.

The warm water soothes his aching muscles, always sore after a long week of strenuous work. He lets the water take him away, calming himself as much as he was capable under the circumstances.

He wonders what you’re up to. Where you’re at, what mess you’ve gotten yourself into without his supervision. Probably in that slutty dress and giving your attention to undeserving men. Flirting with them like a common whore.

The scent of your shampoo wafting in the hot steam eases his racing thoughts, closing his eyes while he massages his hair.

He imagines you’re in the shower with him, insisting to scrub him. He has to lean over so you can reach his head. Gently scratching his scalp, giving him a tingling sensation as you wash him clean from your tiptoes.

You’d scrub his body next, making a careful loop around his neck. Gently soaping his chest, lingering around his strong biceps. Feeling the strength that protects you every day. You’ll slide down to his stomach, attention on his tight abdominal muscles.

It’s his cock you pay the most attention to, stoking him clean, your other hand massaging bubbles onto his balls.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

When you’re done with him, he’d scrub you down, rough hands squeezing soft soapy tits.

He’d take his time with you, making sure to give every inch of you the care it deserves before flipping you around and fucking you ruthlessly against the shower wall, water clapping obnoxiously as he clashes into your thighs.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

Konig finishes his shower, wiping himself down with one of your towels before wrapping it around his waist.

He spends some time poking around your bathroom cabinets, curiously reading the labels on bottles of medicines. Helping himself to your Q-tips, your skin care, your deodorant.

He’s getting closer to the perfect mixture of your scent, liebe. He’ll carry it with him as long as he can, surrounding himself in a cloud of you.

When he’s done drying off & redressing himself, he carefully folds his towel and tucks it into the middle of your stack of clean towels. He bites his lip at the thought of you using the same towel that dried him.

Once he leaves the bathroom, he’s ready to poke through the rest of your things. He starts with the three sliding drawers that support the right side of your desk.

Pens, highlighters, chargers, scissors, tape.

A notebook?

He prays it’s a diary, a glimpse into your internal dialogue. He runs a finger down the thin metal coil of the spiral edge before flipping the cover.

He’s enamored with your handwriting, unique and flawed in its own wonderful way. It crafts inked scribblings documenting your time in training. Meticulously written notes on the processes of your position. He skims through the pages, filled to the brim with dry information.

You’re brilliant, liebe. The amount of knowledge that it takes to fill your shoes speaks to how intelligent you are.

He stops on a page with doodles in the corner, touching the hint of you peeking through dull instructional pages.

When he’s satisfied he plops the notebook back into its drawer and continues his search.

Batteries, a flashlight, a spool of thread.

A book.

He stops to read its spine, running his fingers over the raised title on the cover.

A romance novel?

A dark romance novel.

His heart skips a beat as he flips the book over and reads the summary.

You’re just as filthy and deviant as him, aren’t you liebe?

This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

You want him to follow you, to control you, to dominate you. You want him, don’t you?

He settles onto your bed, back flush with the covers as he nestles into your pillow. He peels the cover back, swiping through the introductory pages with his thumb, eyes attentively soaking in the words of the first chapter.

He’s determined to figure out your ideal man, your perfect idea of romance. This is his guide, he’s sure. Exactly how he should treat you to earn your affection.

The first chapter details a young woman who had finally built her perfect little life. Engaged to a supportive, loving, and devoted fiancé and settled into a cozy home in the suburbs surrounding the city where she worked. Working her dream career, it doesn’t pay much - but isn’t she oh so happy?

The first chapter lulls him, losing interest during the wholesome exposition.

He sets the open book on his chest, arm propping behind his head as he memorizes your room. He closes his eyes, absentmindedly stroking your cozy blankets. Giving a pleased hum as he nuzzles his head further into your pillow.

He wonders what it would be like to fall asleep next to you. To have you nestled into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to his chest, arm draped over his torso. Flat on your back, his head on your chest as he listens to your heartbeat and soft snoring. Curled on your side, your ass pressed into his cock in a spoon, letting him grind into you as you drift off.

It’s the rattling of your lock that wakes him, his eyes snapping open in a panic and finding your window, sun no longer shining through the gaps in your blinds. He can hear your muffled voice through the door, belongings brushing against the wood as you struggle with your keys. He can’t believe he’s let the time slip through his fingers.

It’s your fault.

He hasn’t gotten a full night's rest in weeks.

It’s an intense scramble to clean up after himself, hands fumbling for your displaced book, vibrator, and soiled panties. He stumbles over his feet in a last ditch attempt to have you avoid spotting him, hoping the sound of your wardrobe door sliding closed is quiet enough to be concealed by the sound of your entrance.

He’s dead-still in his cramped position, terrified he’ll rattle the hangers that held your day clothes surrounding him. You flick on the lamp, a line of light casts a vertical strip on his face, pupil dilating as he peers through the gap in the closet’s doors. His heart is pounding in his chest, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it.

He has never been this close to you before.

“Look, I know I’m usually chill about shit like this but that was not cool, dude.” You’re talking into your phone, pinched between your raised shoulder and cheek. “You can’t just bail like that without saying anything, my clothes were at your place.”

You take a deep breath, setting your wallet and keys down before kicking off your uncomfortable shoes. Konig’s leering gaze finds your ass as you bend over, one hand gripping the wood of the dresser to steady yourself. You do look good in that dress, liebe. Plump full thighs on display for him, skin tight cut teasing every inviting curve.

Your voice is softened when you speak again, “I’m worried about you, okay? I didn’t like that guy’s vibe. Just, let me know you’re…”

You trail off as you turn around, freezing in your place.

Your attention was caught by the soft blue dress with the intricate azure and yellow flowers, displayed on a hanger Konig had hung on your bedpost.

His gentle nudge.

Shit.

You freeze for a suffocating four seconds, face stone cold as you process the sight. Konig can see your gears turning, his face pinched in hot regret.

“…okay. Call me back.” You whisper, tone no longer strict with annoyance.

You quickly end your call before blindly placing your phone on the dresser behind you, stare locked on to the dress.

“Did I…?” You mumble under your breath, slowly stepping forward and reaching a careful hand out to touch the dress. Your brows furrowed, features drenched in confusion.

You look over your shoulder, and Konig swallows hard. This is it, you’re going to search for the intruder and find him. He’s in for a world of trouble- and that’s only if you don’t kill him first.

Your head turns back to the dress, now holding it with two hands, hem lifting off the floor.

Put it on, liebe.

The fabric slides through your finger as you let it fall into place, returning to your phone and swiping at its screen.

You raise the phone to your ear again, free hand rubbing your fingers together in a fidget. You sway in your spot, eyes darting nervously around the room while waiting through a painfully long set of rings.

“Hey - uh, Lieutenant.” You nervously clear your throat, “Sorry to bother you on the weekend- something kind of weird happened and I uh- I just have a question for you.” You let out a small nervous laugh, “Sorry. Bye.”

You quickly hang up, cheeks flushed as you press the side of your phone to your forehead in a clenched fist. Cringing at yourself for your awkward voicemail with a curse under your breath.

Why is Ghost always the first person you call at the first sign of trouble?

Konig is supposed to be the one who protects you, who keeps you safe.

He has to force his jaw open to keep his teeth from grinding.

You’re fucking him, aren’t you?

It’s all making sense now. Of course Konig hasn’t been able to catch you two in the act, the only way you’d be able to get away with it is by keeping it a secret. If anyone found out about your affair you’d both be discharged. Sneaking around and being intimate when no one’s watching, getting off on the forbidden love of a subordinate and a superior.

Konig can fulfill that fantasy too, y’know.

Konig can see your mind racing from your cramped wardrobe, pacing in your spot while you fidget with your nails. There is just enough doubt on your features, just enough doubt that he thinks he might get away with it. Gaslight you into thinking maybe you did buy the dress. Maybe you made a trip back home in between the mall and the subway. Maybe ‘bad vibe guy’ spiked your drink and made you lose a chunk of your evening.

As soon as Konig’s thighs start to burn from the contorted half-squat he’s in to fit in your wardrobe, there’s a knock on the door. You take a sharp breath, head harshly turning towards the sound. You freeze again, lips parted and eyes squinted in unease.

Another rap at the door, followed by your name spoken in a familiar voice. “You in?”

Ghost.

Got your message and came running to your rescue. Tricking you into accepting him as your knight in shining armor.

His face twitches at the way your shoulders relax when you hear his voice, holding back a smile as you rush to open the door.

“Lieutenant.”

Untelling eyes look you up and down, and you follow his gaze to your outfit, almost surprised that you are still wearing that filthy dress you‘ve been parading yourself in.

That’s why you bought it, isn’t it? You picked it out to show your curves off to him, the professor to your little schoolgirl crush.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry Lieutenant. I-”You let out a nervous laugh as you look over his unreadable face. “I didn’t know you were going to, um, stop by.”

Liar.

“Nice dress.” He says, impossible to tell if he’s being genuine or making fun of you. Konig’s not sure which he prefers, but his jaw shakes at the very sound of his voice.

“I just got back from a night out.” You explain, words pouring quickly in a desperate attempt to save character.

“I can tell.” He says, flat and gravely. He gives you grace by changing the subject, eyes peering over you and scanning your room, “Got your message.”

“Oh, yeah. No, it’s uh, it’s probably fine. Sorry to put you out.”

“It was quite the journey from across the hall.”

Your voice raises an octave when you try to sound forced casual, “You didn’t go in my room, did you? It’s just, you’re the only one with a key.”

The thought of Ghost having a key to your place makes him sick to his stomach. He’s probably already been here, already dug through your things to get his filthy hands all over your belongings.

He could sneak into your room at any moment, liebe. Inviting him to break in and take advantage of you.

An eyebrow raises, the extent of his expression, “No.”

Your fingers rub together again, “Are the guys- are they hazing me or something? I mean, it’s fine if they are. I get it, new guy and all- but I just need to know before I lose my mind.”

“What’s going on?” He asks, cutting straight to the chase when he hears the distress creeping in on your rambled words.

You clear your throat, looking over your shoulder, “That dress.” You say, looking to it and trailing off.

“Pretty.” He says, not straying from his uninterested tone.

Konig’s face twitches when Ghost compliments the dress.

It’s not for him.

“Yes- it is.”

“Having a fashion show?”

“No,” You give another timid laugh before your nerves make your face slink. “I didn’t buy it?” You finish on a high, unsure note, “The dress wasn’t here when I left, right? And then I come home - and here’s the dress.”

“An unusual form of hazing.”

“No, no- that’s not the weirdest part.” You point to it again, “I went shopping today, and that dress - I saw the dress, I stopped to look at it. That exact dress. I didn’t buy it, at least- I think I didn’t buy it.” You clench a hand into a fist, “I’m sure I didn’t buy it. I just got home and there it was.”

Ghost doesn’t speak, just looks down his nose at you.

Your hand flops dramatically to your side, head turning away, “You think I’m crazy.”

He says the first thing all night you can tell he means.

“I believe you.”

Your eyes perk up, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The same way you had looked to Konig in his dream. The same spark of appreciation that Konig was entitled to.

And you’re giving it to Simon fucking Riley for doing the bare minimum.

Konig’s the one who got you the dress, liebe.

Ghost doesn’t give you gifts, Ghost doesn’t love you like Konig does.

He shifts in your doorway, arms crossing and head slightly tilted to the side. “You think someone broke into your quarters?”

“I… guess? I’m more worried that I am losing it. That I did buy it and I just, I just forgot.”

He takes a moment to analyze you, skimming over your nightclub attire before finding your face again, “You drinking?”

You hold a hand out, almost like you’re physically stopping his train of thought, “I know what you’re thinking, I only had two. I’m a lightweight, but, c’mon. Not enough to forget.”

He doesn’t say anything, making his silent judgments through half-lidded eyes.

Your tightly pressed fingers raise to touch your lip.

“Oh, I’m losing it, aren’t I?” You say with a whine, hand falling dejectedly to your side.

“You’re not losing it, soldier.”

“I’m losing it.”

“No. Listen to me.” He uncrosses his arms to hold a finger in your direction, “You’re not losing it.”

Konig can’t believe he’s talking to you like this. Stern, strict, and commanding you like Konig should be doing. Squashing the doubt that would safeguard his plan.

“The boys are probably just fucking with you. I’ll talk to them, yeah?”

You nod, slow at first but then more assuredly, “Yes, yeah.” You close your eyes, words relaxing with a sigh, “You’re right. Sorry, again, for bothering you.”

“No bother.” His head tilts again, “You alright?”

“All-left, apparently.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I don’t want to take your time. I’m okay.”

“I don’t mind.”

Don’t give in, liebe. He’s just looking for an excuse to leer at you in that dress. To come into your sacred room, to get a look at your precious things.

Your eyes flick to the floor before back to him, “Ah, okay. Sure.”

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” You ask when you turn away from him, giving him space to come in.

You’re always so thoughtful. Ghost doesn’t deserve you.

“No.” Ghost steps in while carefully eyeing your room. He inspects your window, nonchalantly checking over the locks before tugging at it to make sure it’s secured.

“No fun Saturday night plans, Lieutenant?” You asked with a cheeky smile, smoothing out your blanket to sit on your bed, feet dangling off the side.

“Not as fun as yours.” He says, eyes falling on your dress and lingering there a little too long for Konig’s liking. Ghost straightens out, leaning against your dresser to face you.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, adjusting the sleeve of your shoulder, “A friend dragged me on a night out.” You move to stand, moving towards the dresser Ghost blocked, “Not my usual getup. I’ll change.”

“Don’t feel obligated on my account.” He says dryly.

He doesn’t have your modesty in mind, liebe. Looking at you like you’re a piece of meat. He just wants you on display for him, a trophy.

You look at him, briefly attempting to decipher an underlying meaning of his statement. You glance to the guarded drawers before backing up to your spot on the bed. You tug the bottom of your dress down, eyes fixed on the ceiling as a stiff silence falls over you three.

“My friend, uh, set me up on a blind date.” You say after a clear of your throat, desperate to rid the awkward pause. You give him a small laugh, “It was terrible.”

“That so?”

You kick your foot, smiling at the ground, “Yeah, a friend of this guy she’s really into. All he talked about was basketball, and he didn’t ask me a single question about myself. I don’t think he even knew what my name was.” You roll your eyes, “And a bit too touchy-feely if you ask me.”

Konig’s sorry, liebe. That he wasn’t there to protect you. The thought of you being all alone on a terrible date makes him sick to his stomach. He’s sorry he’s allowed this to happen. He gave you too much slack on your leash, he should have kept you reined in.

“Must be difficult to gauge a woman’s comfort level when NC State is doing so poorly this season.”

You snort, happy to lighten the tension, “They’re actually doing pretty well. 4-1, apparently.” You say with a roll of your eyes.

Ghost gives an amused scoff, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve ever gotten from him. It catches your attention, and to his dismay Konig watches you purse your lips to hide a pleased smile.

Kick him out already.

“My friend ditched me, so I had to sit through all of the strategies the Celtics should have implemented last year, and she never even came back.”

“Mm, abandoned the buddy system. No good.”

“No good! Thank you. I had to walk home in stupid shoes I borrowed that don’t fit.”

“Now that’s just torture. Maybe we should start implementing that in boot camp.”

You deliver the laugh drenched in sarcasm, “Hah hah.”

“Next time, call me. We’ll do a full EVAC.”

That was Konig’s job.

You roll your eyes again, “I can handle myself.”

He gives a shrug and a shake of his head, “Don’t count out the buddy system.”

You pull your legs up on the bed next to you, thighs pressed together and bent almost underneath you. You look like you’re on a fucking casting couch, peering up at Ghost through thick eyelashes with those doe eyes, just begging for him to pin you down and expose what little of you was hidden under that dress.

“You really don’t have to stay.”

His eyes find the blue dress, still hanging on the bedpost, before he looks back to you, “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

The faintest blush spreads on your face, hesitating in your response.

“Smoke?” He asks after a few seconds, much to your relief.

“God, yes. Let me change quick.” You commit to shooing him from your dresser this time, pulling out the first shirt on top. The shirt Konig had touched to his cheek hours before, the unknowing and indirect touch filling him with a satisfying thrill. You grab a pair of sweatpants and disappear into the bathroom, leaving Konig to keep a close watch on Ghost through the crack in his wardrobe.

He starts eyeing your possessions, unworthy eyes befouling your priceless things.

Konig has to close his eyes to rid the sight. Stifling the urge to reveal himself and snap Ghost’s spine over his knee. He hates him, hates how he’s always coercing you from Konig’s safety, sneaking you away for the chance to get his hands on you. He’s never loathed someone more.

You’re just an empty-headed bimbo who bats her eyes and whores herself out for any man who pays attention to you. You’re too stupid to realize just how slimy he is.

Konig opens his eyes with the scrape of your bathroom door, watching Ghost follow you out to the hall.

Konig sighs a long breath once you’re both out of sight, he doesn’t know how long he’s been holding it. His fingers grip your things like he's trying to destroy them.

Fucking Ghost.

At least you changed out of that dress. The way Ghost’s attention drew to your chest and legs at every opportunity left him tensed in a seething rage.

Konig finally moves, taking his chance to stuff your cum-soaked panties and vibrator into his waistband, flexing the fingers that cramped up from his awkwardly clasped hands. He sets the book at his feet, popping his knuckles and stretching his legs while he considers the choice he has to make.

Does he sneak out now? You hadn’t suspected the wardrobe, now that you’ve changed you shouldn’t be digging in your closet until morning. He’s sure he’s sufficiently camouflaged, but there’s still the risk you’ll find him. This is his window to escape without consequence. He’d be able to supervise your smoke break, but he wouldn’t be able to sneak back in to watch the rest of your evening.

It’s the thought that Ghost might follow you back into your room, that he might try to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state, that keeps him in his spot.

Dread pools in his stomach when he’s away from you, knowing you’re under a predator’s stare. He’s probably got his hands all over you right now. He’s seen your thighs that beg for touch, your tits popping out of that dress that invites groping, a waist asking for a strong grip. Flirting desperately and using that charm that comes naturally to invite him to take you.

He’s stealing the attention Konig was owed. Basking in your light and adoration while he has to hide in the shade, longing for your soft warmth instead of this heat of irritability that boils under his skin. He pushes your day clothes from him in frustration, face twitching as he sifts through all of the worst case scenarios.

It takes you too long to return, Konig’s blackhole of obsessive thoughts intensifying with each minute you’re tangled in Ghost’s web.

“I hope not.” You say as you return, the smell of smoked tobacco clouding the room and singeing Konig’s nose.

“Here.”

Konig’s face pulls when Ghost takes the dress from you, manhandling and wrinkling the delicate fabric. It’s nauseating to watch him lay hands on Konig’s gift.

You’re supposed to wear his dress, liebe. Burn that slutty black dress, and accept the guidance you need. Give him even the slightest bit of control from you.

The rejection stings, turning him weak in the knees as the blood drains from his face. It tears his chest wide open watching you give his gift away like it was nothing. His face burns with humiliation, the prick of betrayal drying the back of his throat.

This is what he gets for going out of his way for you? For giving you a token of his affection? For the love and care he’s poured into you?

Fuck you.

You don’t get to make him feel this way. You don’t get to run from him when he knows what’s best for you.

“You want this back when I’m done?”

“Uhm,” You stare at it for a moment, the corner of your lip perking up ever so slightly, “Sure, yeah. It’s uh, it really is pretty.”

Konig swallows, eyebrows pinching and elated grin immediately plastered on his face.

You do like it?

Oh, liebe. He’s sorry he doubted you.

You do want him.

You can be a good girl for him, accept Konig’s redirection. You want to wear his dress for him, you want Konig to own you and teach you how to behave.

He can’t wait to see you in it.

“Will do.”

“Thanks for uh, y’know.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Night Lt.”

“Goodnight.”

When the door snaps shut behind you, Ghost sent packing, and Konig’s grin spreads.

You crawl into your bed, the same bed Konig had defiled hours earlier.

For thirty minutes you scroll on your phone, but Konig is happy just to watch your facial expressions as you react to the things on your screen. You watch silly videos, occasionally giggling at the content.

This part is just for him.

It sounds so wonderful to hear your laugh, liebe. He imagines it’s him making you giggle, a blush and coy smile as a result of a joke he made.

This is his favorite part of the day, when you settle in and he can watch you be your genuine self. It’s comforting to be with you while you unwind, he knows this is what it will be like once he has you, how you’d spend the evenings once you’re together.

And he gets to have his good girl all to himself.

The shower is the hardest part.

In addition to praying the evidence of his shower has fully drained, he knows you’re just a few feet away, completely naked and soaking wet. His cock twitches at the thought, still sensitive from his orgasm.

You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?

Teasing him like this.

He wants to follow you into the shower, see if he can peek at you from over the shower curtain. Offer to scrub you down, groping you like you’ve been asking for. Fuck you, how you deserve to be fucked.

His brow quirks when he spots your phone resting on the nightstand, charging after a long day out.

He waits until the sounds of the water hitting the ceramic loses rhythm, droplets now flowing down your body instead of raining on the tub.

He’s got time.

He takes a deep inhale before working open the wardrobe doors as stealthily as he can, cursing the creak of the wood under his shifting weight.

Mindful footsteps get him to your nightstand, shaking hands picking up your phone. With a push of your lock button the screen is illuminated, and his breath catches. He can’t believe you’ve left your secrets unattended for anyone to steal. How careless of you.

Your background is adorable, he can’t help but smile at the glimpse into an expression of your personality.

He swipes at the screen and his smile falls flat at the demand for a passcode.

Why do you always have to make things so difficult for him?

He huffs in frustration before he locks your device, using the dark screen and light from the lamp to search for fingerprints.

There’s a bunch towards the bottom, evidence of your fingers typing precious messages to your loved ones.

He needed those messages.

Konig thinks he can tell which smudges are your passcode. He’s got 6 possible numbers for a 4-digit code, and no way to tell which order.

He curses under his breath. He’s looking for a pattern. A birthday, a year, a sequence.

He’s got nothing.

You couldn’t have made it 1234?

He returns your phone to its spot. He’ll figure out your passcode, liebe. He’ll wait until he’s close enough to watch you enter it, get his fingers on it when you’re inevitably acting careless.

You don’t get to hide things from him anymore, liebe.

He’s earned it. You’ve lost the privilege of privacy.

This is a new level of immoral behavior, and now that he’s this close - he refuses to distance himself from you.

A rush so thrilling he can’t ignore it, a newly conquered high he’s never dared to risk, without the willpower to walk away from it.

It’s too late for you, liebe. He’s bleeding into you now, his sickness spreading into your life and infecting you like ink on cloth.

You’re his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

His (Part One)

Somethings Borrowed - Another Stalker!Konig Fic

The Girl Who Conquered the Mountain [Hunger Games AU] - Outcast!König x Reader

Meine Perle - Octo!Konig

Masterlist

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finniestoncrane · 4 months

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Pornstar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, multi-part au fic cooper howard is a former actor, novice pornstar, and current wasteland escort. reader mistakes him for a bounty hunter and ends up getting far more entwined in his lifestyle than they intended in a bid to get what they need from the first 'kind' person they've met in a long time🤎

☢️ Chapter 1: A Bombshell, word count: 3.5k exposition time!! cooper's recent divorce has hit hard, personally and professionally. vault tec have made it impossible for him to find work in any movies so he's turned his talents to porn to make some money. as horrible as he thinks his day is though, his future is only going to get worse (reader shows up next chapter) request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: age gap reference, angst, oral sex, pornography

From the corner of the small, hideously decorated set, Cooper watched the skeleton crew work to clean things up after the last movie wrapped just an hour before. His skin began to crawl, a shudder rolling through his body, as he considered the fact that he hadn’t seen anyone take away dirty sheets or bring in clean ones since he arrived.

And he was expected to fuck in these conditions. It was a living nightmare.

Trying to lighten his mood, he murmured what was supposed to be a positive sentiment.

“At least it’s not snuff. Way my luck’s going, wouldn’t that just be the cream on top of the pie.”

Cooper looked up to the ceiling, shielding his eyes from the bright studio lights which provided a familiar, albeit less high-end warmth than he was used to. He was working though, so he couldn’t complain too much. A paycheck meant he wasn’t out on the streets, the hot sun beating down on his face instead. And he had to face facts; the snap of some powerful fingers and he could be out on his ass at a moment’s notice, fired even from a gig like this.

No prospects. Vault Tec had made sure of that not long after he’d confronted Barb. She’d gone straight to her bosses, that panel of cruelty he’d listened in on, and their retaliation, preventative measures to ensure they could continue on their journey of annihilation, had been swift and immeasurably evil. His reputation was ruined, the earth in which he’d grown and nurtured a career scorched, much like they intended to do with the rest of the world. Any upcoming opportunities, any interest that anyone held in him, gone.

They’d been thorough, efficient. News reports, gossip between housewives, notes passed across the desk during auditions. They’d made sure he’d never work again, not in anything worth while, of course, holding his earnings hostage. And when he thought that was all they could take from him. His life, his money, his house, his wife. They had come for more. Armed Barb with the best lawyers money could hire and then offered him the worst deal.

His silence in exchange for some brief, supervised moments with his daughter. Something about alcohol abuse, a half-truth at most, but enough to convince the judge.

It felt cruel to him, that he was put in a position where he had to choose between Janey and the rest of humanity. A shitty thing to do to a man, that’s what he thought of it. And a shitty choice to make. And a shitty decision when he threw altruism to the side and secured the rest of humanity’s fate. He was just as complicit as they were, really, if he thought about it too hard. Which of course, he did. Each night as he struggled to sleep in his apartment. But whatever time was left, he reasoned that he might as well spend it being as happy as he could, even if that was only for one day a month when he was allowed to see Janey.

What was it? Two days ago he'd taken her to the zoo? So almost another month until he saw her again. A month of work. Blood, sweat, and tears. So much sweat.

He let his gaze fall down, taking in his body. Wrapped in a robe, nude underneath it, primed quickly by the makeup artists who seemed to only be making sure that his body hair was tidy and he wasn’t going to sweat too much during his part. Neatly trimmed pubic hair and strategically shaved nipples wouldn’t save him from that though. This was his third film, and each time his nerves, his guilt, his unrelenting shame as he drove his cock into the expert, very formal, professional cunt of whoever his co-star was, it was certain that he’d be sweating copiously only ten minutes in.

“Coop? Hey, Coop! Howard! Keep your head in the game. Both of ‘em, heh.”

Now he was being bossed around by the lighting guy, someone whose name Cooper had forgotten already. The snorting laughter echoed in Cooper’s mind, bringing him firmly back to reality from his daydreaming. It was more mindless worrying than daydreaming, really, but it was the only reprieve he got these days, and now it seemed he couldn’t even find a moment of peace for that.

Daydreaming suggested something positive, thoughts filled with desires or nostalgia for days gone by. But there wasn’t a single remaining vestige of his former life that he was happy to cling to, all of it tainted with soured memories and terrifying future prospects. And knowing what he knew, he still had to keep going. He had to pretend like nothing was wrong. A fake smile plastered on his face despite the mess that he was in.

“Howard? Come on, man. Pull it together.”

The lighting guy was calling on him again, and this time he had the gall to look at Cooper with an impatient, furrowed brow.

“You know they used to call me Mister Howard.”

“And they used to say I looked young and fresh faced, shit changes, man. You coming or what?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Keep your pants on… at least you get to.”

He knew he shouldn’t be so flippant, but his patience had worn thin over the past few months. Now that there was nothing to be charming for it was no longer second nature to him. He was rude, cold, and found he was losing himself. Deep down, there was a voice scolding him. Telling him to be thankful that when there were no more studios with their doors open to him, that he was at least able to find some places willing to hire. And while it was a lot less glamorous, he should still be grateful.

But it was hard to feel that way when his new profession was clouded by his own insecurities.

Cooper was well aware that he wasn’t by any means experienced when it came to the world of sex. His first foray into anything of that nature was with his highschool sweetheart on prom night. An unfortunate experience that taught him nothing and ended up igniting the spark that ended that first love. Then there was Barb. He’d met her in college and they’d been together until their bitter divorce. A single one night stand between then and his current career, and that was his sexual history summed up neatly.

It always struck people as funny when they learned about his very short list of sexual conquests. He was Cooper Howard. Charming, charismatic, handsome, famous. A verified heart throb. But he was woefully unsure of what to do with that reputation, and always had been. While other stars would flirt with fans or interviewers or even directors to get a little bit more attention, Cooper was never able to offer anyone anything but a genuine and pleasant smile and maybe at a push, a mischievous wink to accompany his signature smile. He wondered how much of it had to do with the fact that he only had eyes for Barb, but even when she had pushed him to ‘play the game’ he’d still found himself unable to.

Now, all of a sudden and based on a perception of him that was built upon years of good PR, he was thought of as some kind of casanova, and expected to act as such. He had to act like the kind of guy who charm the pants off a woman, with very little plot to back that up, and who could fuck for thirty minutes solid in front of a crew and without cumming too soon,

Interestingly, at least to Cooper, they had told him that would be the hardest part. Stamina. The suspension of orgasms. But he found it all too easy, mostly because there was never a point where he felt any kind of deeply sexual attraction to his co-stars. Much the same as his previous acting roles, he’d always viewed it as a job. It would be inappropriate to have any other feelings. The women he worked with now were beautiful, skilled, talented. But Cooper wasn’t in love with them, and he found that made it hard to coax an orgasm out of him. Luckily, that seemed to suit his new bosses pretty well. He was handsome, a known commodity, and could last a while before they worked him up to his big finale, even if they had to cut the cameras while they waited for him to get to it.

“Alright, Howard. Robe off, let’s see that cock.”

Sighing, his eyelids closing as he tried to separate himself from his actions, Cooper shrugged off the robe that covered his body, letting it slink to the floor and pool at his feet. Despite the heat, his skin still prickled as it was exposed. Nipples hardening, hairs standing on end.

“Can we get a little enthusiasm, Coop? Like your other movies?”

Cooper muttered under his breath.

“You can get the same enthusiasm when I’m getting the same paycheck.”

“What was that, buddy?”

“I said, where do you want me?”

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Ok, Phoebe’s gonna be on her back, that ok, doll?”

“Of course!”

“Perfect… so, you’re gonna be here. We’re doing missionary first, then maybe we cut to some doggy style. Remember, eyes away from the camera, and make sure that whatever you’re doing we can see those genitals. They’re the real stars!”

This was his life now. His body getting first billing above his soul under whatever lewd title this was going to be given.

“Mr Howard? I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan. I watched your movies as a kid, you’re like, my dad’s favourite star.”

His co-star, Phoebe, if he remembered correctly, was laying on her back on the bed, waiting for him. Her big, green eyes were wide with excitement. She’d been a fan. And when she was a kid. Looking at her now, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed how young she was. Barely pushing her early twenties, fresh-faced, keen, full of hope.

How would her dad feel about him now? Would she mention this? Talk about meeting Cooper Howard, but skirt around the exact details? Or would she brag? Maybe it was just him who had a disdain for this line of work. He certainly didn’t judge anyone else on the set. Only himself.

“Uh… thank you, darlin’. Always nice to meet a fan.”

Phoebe giggled, a sweet sound that made his heart sink. She spread her legs wider, eyes flitting down to his cock which he was stroking slowly in a bid to get it stiff.

“You ready to go?”

“I’m ready! Mr Howard?”

Cooper looked down in dismay, his flaccid member refusing to play along. A stubborn diva, it turned out.

“Is… is there something wrong, Mr Howard? Is it me? I’m so sorry, you must be used to much bett-”

Cooper’s natural empathy, at least the last reserves of it, were pulled out of hibernation as Phoebe began to blush, embarrassed at what she perceived as her inability to turn him on.

“Oh, no, darlin’. This is a ‘me’ problem. You don’t worry about it at all, ok?”

He placed a hand on her bare shoulder, all lust evaporating as he comforted her, smiling back as she beamed appreciatively to him.

“God damn it, ok, let’s get Harv in, he can do his scene with Phoebe, that ok, doll?”

“Oh for sure! I’m good to go.”

“Perfect, you’re an angel. You, Howard. We can shoot the exposition scene just now. Go to wardrobe and get your outfit.”

Oddly thankful, even though he was embarrassed at his inability to perform, Cooper headed to the small room where they held the small wardrobe for cast members. The exposition scenes were his favourite to shoot. Of course, they were poorly written, and his co-stars weren’t exactly professionally trained actors. But it at least felt like old times. Lines to memorise, a character to portray. And limited sexual encounters for him to fuck up.

Besides, it was porn, and he was the star. Which meant there was a lot more wooing. A lot more women, various actresses playing a myriad of characters, all of whom were seemingly desperate for Cooper’s cock, whatever role he happened to be playing. Once the exposition was out of the way, he had to fuck. But these scenes? He got to be enticed, which always made it a little easier on him. He might have even been looking forward to it today. A stroke to the ego, among other things. A boost to his confidence, and a little physical comfort to stave off the looming spectre of complete loneliness.

When he sifted through the rack and found his name on a plastic covered bundle, however, his brief glimpse of joy was stolen away.

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was close enough. The deep blue shirt, bright, golden yellow detailing. And the hat. Not identical, but anyone watching would know that he was supposed to be portraying his old self. A cowboy, the Cooper Howard people knew and loved.

On the table behind him, he rifled through the ‘scripts’ until he found the one with his name scribbled on the top. Ten lines, some room for ad-libbing. All of it cowboy themed. Pulled directly from his movies, albeit changed a little for the sake of copyright infringement.

He couldn’t do it.

But then he remembered Janey. How badly he’d wanted to treat her, to spoil her. And how little money he had left after alimony. And how expensive the rent was at his new apartment, which was overpriced, disgustingly decorated, and didn’t even allow pets.

Maybe everything would be ok in the world. Maybe he’d go on living, get to see retirement, see the world flourish, the wars end. Maybe, Vault Tec and Barb would see the light, change their ways. Maybe it was all for nothing.

So maybe he better get his shit together and start making some money, so that what was left of his future wasn’t so abysmal.

“Put on a smile and go get your cock sucked, Cooper. Not the worst day in the world, really.”

WIth a sigh of resignation, he chose to listen to his conscience, the little voice that steered him in the right direction, and put on the suit. The material was a poor quality, some cheap polyester deal, ill fitting, too baggy for his frame. And the hat was clearly something from a cheap party supply store. But as he looked in the mirror at himself, he could push away the feeling of seeing a ghost and focus on the positives. He looked almost like himself again.

“Mr Howard? They’re ready for you.”

The polite knock and the soft voice of the only runner on set came through the door, and Cooper exited, surprising the young man in the corridor.

“Oh wow.”

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just… you look like you did in your movies. I’m a little bit starstruck.”

“You gave me my coffee this morning.”

The runner looked to his feet, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to explain himself.

“Yeah, but that was… now you look… y’know?”

Trying not to be impolite, Cooper pushed past him, muttering under his breath.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

Back in what the director insisted on calling “the studio” despite it being a hastily fabricated sound stage in the middle of some tacky, shared ownership mansion in the hills, Cooper was met by a new woman who introduced herself as Veronica, before quickly telling him that everyone called her Ronnie. He smiled, clutching her hand between both of his in that confident way he used to greet fans, smiling at her as she bit her lip and smirked. It was a flirtatious look, one that gave him a bit of a boost as he subtly eyed her up and down and judged her silently.

“She definitely likes you… and she’s not too bad to look at herself. Look at you, seeing the positive side of things! Well done, Cooper. Well done.”

He made his way through the first few lines, trying his hardest to maintain a look of arousal as his co-star clumsily worked through hers, emphasis and inflections all over the place, the puns not quite hitting right the way she was delivering them. But he could forgive it all as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Well, I have to give you something for saving me from those bandits, kind sir… maybe this will be enough to repay you.”

She was adept at unbuckling his belt, repetition and muscle memory aiding her, and he could feel his erection stirring as she pulled his flaccid cock free from his pants and began to stroke it.

“Now, ma’am… that won’t be necessary…”

Cooper’s voice trembled over his words as he took his semi-erect cock from her and began stroking it slowly himself to keep the erection building.

“... I did what any good man would.”

“Then let me do what any good woman should.”

He cringed hard at the line, but luckily, the grimace was covered by his mouth dropping open as Ronnie took his cock in her mouth, sliding her lips over the tip with a gentle ease that made him forget momentarily how terrible his life was at that point.

Her tongue slid over the tip, teasing over the slit and collecting his pre-cum with a satisfying moan that vibrated through him, tingling over the sensitive nerve endings. Cooper was able to sink into it, some of the muscles in his back loosening as he let himself go. Something so satisfying about the way she held him, one hand on his testicles, the other stroking his shaft as he lips puckered around his head.

Cooper wanted to show her. Not that she was doing anything wrong, she was doing a better job than anyone else had. Ever. But he wanted to guide her, to ease her throat over his length, to breathe through her nose as he filled her mouth, to show her how he liked it. He kept himself to himself, however, putting his fingers in the belt loops of his pants so they couldn’t reach for anything before he could stop them, like the back of Ronnie’s head to down to her round, firm breasts, or even letting his fingers trail over her-

“Cut! For fuck’s sake.”

“Just as things are looking up…”

Cooper’s attention was focused on the director who sat lazily in his folding camping chair. All of him reacted to the interruption, the disruption of his genuine pleasure, finally, for the first time in who knew how long. Tense, irate. And not in the mood.

“Alright, alright… I thought this was gonna be a one take situation, but geez, Howard. If it’s not one thing, it’s the other with you! You got lines to be getting through, imbecile! How you got hired before, I’ll never know. If it wasn’t for that wife of yours, you’d-”

“Now wait just a damn minute!”

Cooper pulled away from Ronnie, his cock bouncing around as he stomped in a way that might have seemed comical to the crew if he hadn’t looked so intense, filled with complete rage as he shook a pointing finger at the director.

“I am sick of taking this from-”

Everyone was jolted into a panic as a rumble spread through the ground. One burst.

“Can’t be an earthquake…”

The runner had only just come into the room when everything in Cooper’s vision was blocked out by a bright, white light. A quick flare, like a firework, or a flashlight being turned on in a dark room. He could see it still, but smaller, and somewhere on the horizon, down in the city.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Get down.”

It was perhaps the last truly selfless thing Cooper did. The glass landed on them, some people got splintered by the small shards as they fell to the ground. But they’d avoided the worst of it. And he didn’t need to help them. These were not people he cared for. They were people who were cruel, difficult, practical strangers. People who didn’t deserve what Cooper knew was coming.

He thought of that day a lot. Of how he’d had it somewhere in him, a long, long time ago, to offer himself or his wisdom in exchange for nothing, to people who these days he’d sooner shoot in the head before spitting in their cup.

Bitterly, he indulged himself, hoping that at least some of them were suffering a fate worse than his, if such a thing actually existed.

“Maybe the mutants.”

There was hardly any time this evening for him to satisfy his desire for revenge with fitful fantasies, however, because he was rudely interrupted by who he expected was yet another customer tapping on his shoulder. A new client who didn’t know the rules.

No touching before payment.

So he turned to politely inform them, and make sure they didn’t forget it next time.

#walton goggins #fallout amazon #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #cooper howard x fem!reader #fallout #finnie writes

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uzurimisery · 10 months

Text

chapter 4: the bluff. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 6746

Warnings: MDNI, rough sex, he's still insane and possessive, PIV, unprotected sex (this guy is never wearing a condom ever), angry sex, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

AO3 version | Series master

You slammed the dressing room door shut. “What the hell was that , Coriolanus?” pacing the length of the room, anger seeping out of you. “Did you forget what we were supposed to do? We were supposed to play it off, say we were too young. That was not playing it off! That was proposing!”

In your rage, you stumbled in your heels. He watched you curse under your breath, undoing the strap on them and throwing them across the room. Coriolanus didn’t move, cemented in his spot just past the door.

“Listen to me Y/N,” his tone was stern, like a parent scolding a child. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you did!” you interrupted your voice tinged with sarcasm. “You always do whatever you want, don’t you? Here, the gala, the dinner. Always regardless of the consequences!”

Your words were sharp, digging in the fact that whatever was going on between you two there was meant to be a unified front, a single storyline. You were meant to be partners in the power play, both of you using each other to further your positions. All the work that went into constructing the next five years of the act was undone in an instant.

“I thought we were on the same page, Coriolanus. There was a plan for what we were going to do, but you just fucked it up!” He was always hypercritical of himself, internal monologue pointing out his every mistake, but you doing the same set him off.

“Can you shut up for five seconds! Or are you so self-obsessed that you can't let anyone else get a word in.”

“How dare you try and talk to me about being self-obsessed you narcissistic, unthoughtful-”

“There you go! Proving my point. You can’t even get off your high horse for a minute so I can explain why I did that.”

“You want to explain? Fine then, explain.” you spat.

Coriolanus’ jaw clenched. You were so hot and cold with him. He could never gauge what you really wanted in all of this, and you would never just tell him either.

“I saw an opportunity.”

“For what?”

“To play the part, to make the story so much better. Picture it, Coriolanus Snow, a man who has always been so organised and timely there are articles on how to put your life together like him, rushing into something. He’s so in love with his mentor’s daughter that he proposes to her on stage in front of all of Panem, and he doesn’t even have a ring on him because at that moment he realises that he can’t live without her.”

Your eyebrows were drawn, scanning over his face like you were looking for a fault in what he said, as you dissected it. There was nothing wrong with it though. The show was exactly how he described it. It painted him as a kind and caring man, beyond his known abilities at game making.

“You should have told me ahead of time.”

“I didn’t have a chance. I thought of it while getting ready.” he was lying, and you could tell. Seeing through lies was your speciality. He hadn’t thought about it while getting ready.

You called him on his bluff. “Bullshit. You didn’t have any plan, that was all impulse.” you were digging your finger into his chest to make your point. “You could have ruined everything we’ve been working on, made the past year pointless. What if I hadn’t followed along? What if I lost my composure for your little outburst? It’s not just your future on the line here Coriolanus. I’m leaving.”

Your shoulder bumped into his as you moved to walk out of the room, but his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you back and lifting you off the ground.

“Y/N,” he started.

“Let me go!”

“You don’t get to walk away from me. You need to listen to me.”

“I’m done listening to you, put me down!”

“Well, I’m not done talking!” Coriolanus pushed your back against the wall, pinning you in place.

Why couldn’t you just listen to him like you normally did? Why were you so upset with him? What he did was off-script but it still looked good, and it still achieved your shared goals. You didn’t get to walk away from him when he was right.

You slapped him, still able to move your arms. “I told you to let me go.” He tasted blood in his mouth. When he smiled at you, you felt your blood run cold.

“Are you done?” His teeth had traces of blood on them.

You weren’t about to be intimidated by him. You didn’t cower or beg anyone, and that included Coriolanus Snow. “Let. Me. Go.” your demands fell on deaf ears.

His smile only widened, eyes glistening with a sinister light. You thought he’d be furious with you, and hated that you were out of control, but it seemed more like he enjoyed it. That he liked it when you fought back.

“I told you Y/N, I’m not done talking.”

You moved to slap him again but were met with your wrists being grabbed and pinned above your head, utterly defenceless for whatever happened next. The expectation for him to strike you back weighing in the air. But he didn’t. Instead, his lips met yours, forcing your mouth open and letting his tongue in. You tried to fight back but he bit down on your lip and stopped you. His tongue only became more insistent. Copper on both your tongues.

You didn’t hate it. You were still mad at him, obviously, but the sexual tension that always between the two of you beckoned, its tendrils wrapping around you. Who said some angry sex wasn’t the solution to your being mad at him?

Your teeth clacked against each other as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his midsection. Coriolanus’ free hand moved to support you. Standing like this he was able to grind his hips against yours, the friction delicious. The kiss was messy, both of you trying to prove something to the other with it.

When you pulled apart for air you spoke. “Let me go.” His breath was laboured, just as yours was, the rough makeout session leaving the both of you breathless.

“Not a chance, sweet girl.”

His grip on your wrists loosened, letting you slip free to pull at his hair, connecting your mouths once again. Your moans mixed with his own, body rolling to press your clothed pussy over his erection. Even though he had picked you up a multitude of times, it was always surprising how strong he actually was. His slim build did not give away how strong he actually was.

Everything between you was primal, driven by lust and anger.

Coriolanus brought you over to the couch, dropping you on your back. He liked you best like this, on your back and needy. Your high horse forgotten, and the only thing you rode him. The both of you took care to remove your clothes carefully, neither wanting to deal with a lecture from Tigris as well as knowing you had a dinner to attend in them after this. But that was where the caution ended.

The moment you were naked he had his fingers stretching you open with his thumb toying at your clit. His mouth was all over your skin, biting your breasts, adding to the marks already covering you. He was so rough with you and made you feel so small. But god did he know exactly what to do to you.

Your moans were sharp as he brought you to an orgasm. Everything you did drove him up a wall. Every time he thought he could move past it, ignoring the feeling, your pussy sucked him back in. It was your fault he made a mistake, that he lost his composure, that he went off script. He wanted access to your warmth whenever he wanted.

No matter how much he consumed you, he was still hungry, the type of hunger he hadn’t felt since the war. The one with claws that tore at his insides, teeth grinding into his bones. A bottomless pit that could never be filled. It clouded his mind with thoughts of you, your breasts and hips, the pout of your lips. He could almost always feel the sensation of you against him, biting into your soft flesh. It made him emotionally volatile, willing to risk everything for just a crumb. But every time he got a bite it filled him with dread.

Your perfume, boozy and peachy, a reminder that the only thing that would ever fill this hole was you. That when he was on the brink of death, starving and empty, it was you who would nourish him. Your being the very source of all his problems and all his solutions at the same time. A double-edged sword driving into his heart with every step he took towards you.

“See? Look how good you have it when you just behave.” you weren’t out of it yet, still able to spite back in vitriol.

“Fuck you.”

“Already have.” Coriolanus flipped you on your front, positioning you on your knees with your chest pressed against the couch.

Like this, he got to spread you open, look at what your body could offer him. Why did you have to be you? Why did you have to rival his mind and have such a perfect body? It ruined everything.

His fingers pressed back into you. He could watch you drip down them for hours, whiny and whimpering from his actions. Begging him to fuck you. No matter how you tried to act like you weren’t. You were just like him. Hungry and waiting.

Coriolanus lined up his cock with your entrance. Instead of easing into you, he thrust in fully, jolting your body forward. He wanted it to hurt, to make you feel sorry for blowing up at him. To show you that no matter how you acted out he could fuck you back into place.

He fucked you hard and fast, pulling your head back by your hair. It forced you up and to put your hands on the back of the couch. Your back arched, your shoulders almost against his chest. His other hand pinched at your nipples and tugged at them. It hurt, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

Moving his hand out of your hair, his fingers hooked into the side of your mouth. “Your mouth can be used for better things than being disrespectful.” your drool pooled around them, dribbling out the side of your mouth as you spoke.

“I’m gonna cum.” your speech altered from his fingers.

“I don’t care.” he did care, but he couldn’t let you know that, not right now. The biggest ego death to him would be if he was unable to make you cum. It fed his ego every time you clenched down around him, pussy fluttering from your orgasm. He didn’t slow down or let up, fully intent on taking his frustration out on you.

The air between you was hot and heavy, thick with the smell of sex. With his hands free, your waist became his new hold stone. Coriolanus didn’t even have to pull your hips to meet his, you were doing that for him, bucking backwards in time. Each trust had you panting little praises for him.

He wanted to see your face. You felt him pull out of you and then sit down on the couch next to you. “Ride me.”

You shifted, placing your knees on either side of him as you sunk down on his length. When you got to the base, you took a moment to recollect yourself, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Coriolanus’ lips found the crown of your head before he even recognised what he was doing. It was odd. This intimate act in the midst of all of this. He wanted to show you that he cared, that he wasn’t mad at you anymore. Why wasn’t he mad at you anymore? He was the type to let his anger fester, angry with infection. He waited until the moment was right and then he spread his sickness, cutting down whoever upset him. You were more useful than being cut down; however, he felt strongly towards you. The one thing he wouldn’t do is name those feelings.

The drag of your hips cut off his line of thought. He watched as you rode him, your thighs shaky but not letting it stop you. When you pulled your head out to kiss him he met you, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his. Hair and makeup would have a hay day with the two of you but the way you went all the way up, his tip the only thing inside you, to then your ass flush with his thighs made their annoyance worth it. Wanting to feel you cum around him again, his thumb began circling your clit, working you up to another orgasm.

“I’m close.”

“I know.”

Your hips slowed as you came, exhausted from riding him. But Coriolanus wasn’t done. His hand wrapped around your waist, moving you to an elevated position with his dick still inside you, and he began thrusting up into you. “Hold yourself just like that sweet girl.” You did as he told you, your head lulling to the front pressing your forehead against his. With a few final thrusts, he came inside you. You were winded, your eyes closed as he guided your bodies apart and grabbed a disposal west wipe to clean the both of you up. Finally, with that done, he could lay down and settle you on top of him, both of you naked and sweaty.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just listening to each other breathe, your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” apologises always felt like he was trying to speak a foreign language, his tongue struggling to make the sounds. “I shouldn’t have acted impulsively.”

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn’t have blown up on you.” his fingers traced your hairline as you lay on top of him, still reeling from the sex. “I just don’t like when things don’t go to plan, and they’ve not been going to plan between us.”

He couldn’t argue against that. Everything was so fuzzy between you. He didn’t know what you were feeling, but his feelings were you weren’t something he could ignore. When he said that he couldn’t picture his life without you it was true. He thought that speaking it out to the world would alleviate the pressure, and make it something he could keep inside himself, but he didn’t. He needed you to know that it meant it.

“Would it be so bad, marrying me?”

You picked your head up. “No,” you sighed. “It wouldn’t be.” He watched you find your original position, ear over his heart.

“We could be allies.” his heart pounded as you traced patterns on his skin. “You’re the first person I’ve met I’d consider that with. I could make you the First Lady of Panem.”

Being the First Lady was an appealing idea. You’d be able to do so much more in that position. It was a core belief of yours that the games were only the first step in binding the loyalty of the country, to furthering the control over the populace. Aid programs needed to be doled out in the Districts. People who were content were less likely to look behind the curtain and see what was really happening.

“What happens when you fall in love with someone? Would we divorce and I’d lose everything, both the games and my position?” there was uncertainty in your voice.

There could never be someone after you. You were it for him. Sure he could find a docile wife and marry her, leave her be and just have kids with her. But she could never truly know him. But you could, and you were learning the true him. And you wouldn’t make him separate his work and home life, you’d dive into it with him, lethal and cunning.

“That won’t happen,” he was blunt with his statement. “You’re the only one I could do this with.”

It felt like the weight was finally lifting off him some. The pressure that had been building and threatening to blow, to whistle like a kettle. As much as he had intended for your relationship to be a temporary political alliance, he wanted it to be permanent. He didn’t trust people, but he was growing to trust you, knowing that your goals were ultimately the same.

“But what if it does?” He had never seen you so worried about his feelings, genuine concern. “Or what if I fall in love with someone else?”

“Y/N,” his thumb brushed your lips, making you face him again. “I promise you that is never going to happen. Okay?”

“Okay.”

With a final look of determination, kissed you, his lips bruising against your own. He was hoping that it conveyed that he meant it with all his heart. He was never going to fall in love with someone else, the home you made in his heart was always going to be yours. The decor exactly how you left it if you ever walked away, waiting for you to come back. You’d never get the chance to walk away but that was the sentiment, that he could forgive you for leaving him if he took you back and you stayed with him. A dove with a broken wing was still a dove. It might not be able to soar in the slides, free from the gravity of the world, but it was still a dove. Even if he broke you and locked you up, you’d still be you.

He could never love another, not when he loved you. Coriolanus loved you. The realisation shook him, a tempestuous collision of the man he was and the man he wanted to be. The crack formed by Lucy Gray was broken open once again by you. He had convinced himself that love was a weakness, that it was something to be exploited. Over the past year of getting to know you, getting to be with you, you had challenged his core beliefs, forcing him to confront the fact that he loved you.

It was hard admitting it to himself. Just hours earlier he had told Tigris off for even suggesting the idea of it, vehemently denying it. He didn’t want to love you then, terrified at the idea of you finding out and leaving. But you had said it wouldn’t be so bad to be married to him, that you’d be willing to be allies for the rest of your life. The truth was there though, written into every interaction he had with you. The glaring reality that he could no longer ignore, lingered in his eyes like a burned-in image.

It was terrifying, the exact opposite of the control he wanted to have over those around him, to have you control his heart. The practised emotional detachment he had led his life with failed in his darkest hour. The fear that you’d be just like Lucy Gray and run. It didn’t matter that you both worked on the games, that he had seen you develop new ways to punish the Capitol’s enemies, that you had just as much darkness within you as he did. That you were as ruthless as he was. The betrayal he had once experienced at the hands of a District dog had him petrified of it happening again.

Could he erase your existence like he did hers if something happened? The thought was both horrifying and tempting. He didn’t want it to come to that, to erase you, to discard you like a broken toy. You were better than Lucy Gray, you wouldn’t betray him. He wouldn’t let you. But he couldn’t come to you with this, not yet. Coriolanus Snow needed you to break down and beg him to tell him that he loved you. When he could see you, lost in your feelings for him, then he could tell you. Not before, not after. But at the moment when you are in desperate need of him, he could tell you. Only then could he believe that you loved him too.

______________________________________

Things have been busy since then and luckily you have been able to avoid conversation with your mother too. Coriolanus and you had no time to talk about your game plan and what would've happened next as the games started. Every day you were at the Citadel, ensuring things ran smoothly. He was there too, doing his own work, but the amount you had to do kept you from each other. It wasn’t until after the games ended that the two of you got a moment alone. Of course, you had been to several events together but you couldn't talk about things there. So when the last person left the production room, you were finally alone with him.

“Did you mean what you said that night on the balcony, that it was hard pretending that you loved me?”

The two of you were in his private lab. You were sitting on the edge of his desk instead of a chair, something he noticed you liked to do. After the cameras had been turned off you had taken your hair down from the pinned updo made of a braid, letting the braid hang loose. The heels you were wearing off your feet and lost in the room. Coriolianus’ head was in your lap as your fingers brushed through his hair. The slight stubble he’d grown over the last two days catching on your tights.

His voice was muffled by your thigh. “No.”

“No you didn't mean it or no it isn’t hard pretending that you love me?” Your fingers were putting him to sleep. It had been so long since he had been touched like this. He only had one strong memory of his mother. They had been sitting before the fire, her belly full with his younger sister, her finger running through his, much like your own, singing a song he couldn’t remember now, the melody lost with time.

“No,” he finally replied, groggy. “It’s not hard pretending that I love you”

There was a flicker of hope within you when he first confessed to you that night on the balcony. You had convinced yourself that he was being vulnerable with you then, letting you in. Was this him adding kindling to that fire or dousing it?

“Is it easy then?” Each word was laced with intrigue and tinged with trepidation. The question wormed itself into the conversation, hanging in the air like the hum of the machinery. He tensed under you like he had been unprepared for this conversation, a betrayal of how he normally was.

Coriolanus’ response was slow, deliberate and weighted, with every individual syllable chosen carefully. “No, it’s not easy either.” The threading of your fingers felt so good against his scalp, it was criminal. “It’s neither easy nor hard, it’s necessary.” He shrugged with that statement, drowsy from the long day and your actions.

It was strange seeing him like this, his head in your lap as he was half asleep. The Coriolanus you knew was a man of fronts, never betraying his persona of unwavering composure and unyielding strength. He was smart and capable, bringing the Snow family back from the brink of destruction. But now there was no front present. He was relaxed and open, the tension in his shoulders finally released as he rested on your thighs. You could see every pore of skin, every hair out of place. There was a faint scar above his lip, so blended with his skin that you had never seen it before. It had access to the same medical and cosmetic treatments as you did meaning that he had left this one there on purpose. A reminder of something that had happened to him.

You chewed on his words as you watched him. It was neither easy nor hard pretending that he loved you, it was necessary. It was a non-answer, a refusal to tell you his feelings on the matter, that itself a revealing statement. He was used to his words working on others, his honied lips spinning the sweetest lies. But you had watched him, seen him change over the years. Coriolanus was a man burdened with his own demons that sat at the table with him. There was an understanding in that. You had your own demons that sat in the corner of your room every night, watching you sleep and whispering dangerous things. Neither of you were innocent good-hearted people, both of you violent and deadly.

But his cracks were showing, and that night under the stars with too much to drink, he had let you see just how much they were cracking. You were willing to pick up the pieces and help him put them back together. Your own feelings were the same as his, you were just better at hiding it.

“My father wants us to have an engagement party.”

“When?”

“In two weeks at my family estate,” knowing your father, it was going to be a spectacle. He doted on you. “But he wants to have a private dinner before that, just your family and mine.” His only family was Grandma’am and Tigris. If you wanted to, you could count the Plinths as family, even though he hated the thought of having any relationship with them.

“That’s fine. I’m sure Grandma’am will be excited, she’s been pestering me about marrying you while she’s still alive to see it.”

“She wants you to marry me?”

He murmured some form of agreement, still out of it. “She says you make me smile like I haven’t since I was a boy. It’s annoying actually, she keeps demanding that I bring you around for lunch.” This was news. Your interactions with Grandma’am had always been under the pretence of public events, you never thought much of them, but apparently she had. More than that, she thought more of your effect on her grandson.

“You should be kinder to her, you don’t know how long she’s got left.”

Coriolanus’ head lifted from your lap, rubbing his eyes as he propped his head up on a hand. “I know,” it wasn’t nice to have to think about the fact his Grandma’am was up there in age, that she maybe had another 15 years left. If that. “I’ll tell her we’ll do lunch then.”

Your smile was irresistible. “Good. The least you can do for her is let her think that you’ve found someone you genuinely love, and who loves you just as much. She’ll never know that it's just an act either. It’ll let her rest easy knowing you’re taken care of.”

His heart sank, and his stomach dropped out and onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s a good act too.”

______________________________________

Coriolanus paced in the foyer, stopping every so often his fingers fidgeting with the knot of his tie, loosening and tightening it. His outfit was simple and smart today. His father's button-up with a red tie, a grey pinstripe waistcoat and matching trousers. The black leather of his oxfords had been polished earlier in the morning. He felt antsy, just wanting to get this luncheon over with. He shouldn’t have told you that Grandma’am wanted this, he must have been out of his mind when he did.

“Coriolanus my boy,” Grandma’am had snuck up behind him, making him jump as she put her hands on his shoulders. “You look as handsome as always, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

His smile was weak in the mirror, not reaching his eyes. “Thank you Grandma’am.” She fiddled with the shoulder of his shirt, lining it up properly as it had been moved from his walking around.

“You must really love her if it’s got you like this.”

“I do.” The words were heavy. This was the first time he had acknowledged his feelings for you to another person. The vulnerability threatened to consume him.

“I’m glad,” her eyes became teary as she spoke. “Your mother loved your father so much. I remember their wedding day. She was so nervous, running around like a rabbit. You remind me of her sometimes.” she threw her hands up like the statement was outlandish. “But of course, you’re more like your father than anything else. Strong Coriolanus Snow.”

They rarely talked about his parents, or Tigris’ parents, like this. It was easier for them all to let the dead stay dead. A bittersweet ache spread through him.

“I’m glad.” He reached out and took Grandma's hand, offering her some comfort. Talking about her dead children always set her off. They stood in silence for a beat, hand in hand, each processing their own feelings before he shattered the quiet.

“It’s easier to let the dead stay dead.”

Grandma’am nodded, her handkerchief to her eye to clean up the tears she had spilt. “Sometimes,” she acknowledges, “the past is too painful to revisit. But it’s important to remember Coriolanus. To remember the love, the laughter, the life that was lived. To honour those who came before you.”

But he didn’t want to remember the past. The past made everything worse.

The ring of the elevator cut the conversation short. You were here, and he was nervous. This was no different than a public event, you both knew the parts to play, but it was so different at the same time. You were in his family home, eating with him and his Grandma’am, and doing it purely because you thought she deserved to think someone loved him. Doing it because you cared for her. It was here that his history echoed, ghosts of the past hanging on every wall. Remnants of the boy he once was tucked away in boxes, now dusty with age.

As the elevator doors opened, revealing you standing there, those boxes came out of storage and were placed on the table for you to sort through.

“Oh! Miss Gaul! Please come in.” Grandma’am rushed towards you, excited to have you over.

“Grandma’am,” you chided, pulling her into a hug. She had shrunk in her old age and your heels didn’t help the equation, making you bend down to do so. “I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Y/N. Plus soon enough I’ll Mrs. Snow.”

“I know, I know, I just forget sometimes. Perhaps I should just call you Mrs. Snow!”

“Now I think that’s a wonderful idea!” You took a second to greet Coriolanus with a kiss and then went back to chatting with Grandma’am taking her hands in your own.

You were so delicate with her, it pained him to watch you be so kind to her. You nodded along diligently to whatever she said and were actively engaging in the conversation. He could tell that you weren’t pretending to care and that you actually wanted to speak with his grandmother. She was so animated with you like years had been removed from her. He had spent so long trying to protect her from all that had happened, and all that he had done. His actions had severed parts of their relationship, and with Tigris not living in the apartment anymore, she must have grown lonely. But you brought her back, the vibrant woman who could connect with the world.

Coriolanus sidled up to you, arm wrapping around your waist. “I hate to interrupt your conversation ladies, but I do believe Y/N came here for lunch.” It felt so right to have you like this.

“Yes, yes, Coriolanus,” Grandma’am started, “I’ll go make sure the cook has prepared everything. Why don't you show Y/N into the dining room.”

“Of course, Grandma’am.”

Alone, he nipped at your ear, his breath making your heart skip a beat. His hands were warm, one placed on your stomach the the other on your arm. You could smell the mint on his breath when he uttered a whisper in your ear, his voice low and husky. “You look stunning today.”

You were wearing all black today, something that went against the average Capitol woman. It was a high neck mini dress, stopping a few inches above your knee. The sleeves were long, longer than your hands and instead of normal holes, the fabric was spliced up to your elbow. Your heels were lower than they normally were from press events, no doubt more comfortable. The splash of colour came from your earrings. They were red, with a velvety coating on them, and shaped like rose petals separated and hung on a chain. You had remembered Grandma’am’s love of roses.

“It’s not for you, you know.” you took every opportunity to tease him. “But thank you.”

You had no idea what you did to him. “If it were for me it’d be on the floor by now.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing this is for Grandma’am and not you.” You patted his cheek. “Now are you going to show me to the dining room Coriolanus?” When you said his name you mirrored the way his Grandma’am said it.

A crooked grin rose on his face with a small laugh. “With pleasure, my dear,” he replied biting your ear again before leading you through the grand hallways of the apartment. His hand never left your back until you were sat down. You were on Coriolanus’ right, with his chair being at the head of the table.

The table was smaller than the average dining room table in the Capitol, unsurprising given the number of Snow family members there were left. It looked to seat about 10 people maximum. It was a dark-stained wood, a style that was popular in the prewar days. The walls were a pale blue, covered in a patterned wallpaper. The signature tile flooring of the apartment was carried into the dining room, laid in a geometric style with the table in the centre. It was all a testament to the family’s long history and enduring presence in the Capitol, a microcosm of the Capitol itself.

“Have you told her about the dinner?”

“No I haven’t had a chance yet-”

“What dinner?” Grandma’am sauntered into the room, waiting for Coriolanus to pull out her seat so she could sit. “The cook prepared quite a lunch today,” she listed out the menu after she sat down, Coriolanus returning to his own seat, arms resting on the table.

“That all sounds wonderful Grandma’am. Corio’s told me how wonderful your chef is.”

“Yes, I do agree. It took me ages to find one that I liked, so many of them are lacklustre these days.”

“Well I hope my family’s chef won't disappoint you then.” you grabbed his hand on the table. “My father wanted me to invite you to a family dinner on Friday evening. It’s just a small get-together to introduce everyone to each other properly. After all, we’ll be one family soon.

“Oh, that is a wonderful idea! I’ve always had such admiration for your father’s interior design work.” Grandma’am's voice faded out for Coriolanus as she spoke. Rambling about how your father had ‘brought back the elegance of the Capitol’ through his job. Coriolanus was focused on one thing.

You were wearing the ring. He had gone in between rings for what felt like a millennium till settling on a custom made. It was reminiscent of the one he remembered his mother wearing, covered in diamonds and made of gold. Your was made of platinum, far more durable than gold and less like the be damaged by your time in the labs and only plated in gold. The centre stone was large, 1.5 carats, an emerald cut diamond. The style of the ring was similar to an ornate mirror. There were 22 stones in total, each one glittering from the chandelier's light. He hadn't stopped with just the one ring either, he needed to decorate you in the finest jewels he could buy with the Plinth family fortune. That's why your index finger had a stack of thinner, geometric, stack complimenting the engagement ring.

It thrilled him. Wedding rings were no more than a shackle connecting you to him. A show of his authority over you. Marrying you wasn’t about companionship, it was to own you. To change your last name to his own and let everyone know that he would never leave you alone. Maybe he’d let you hyphenate your last name, and you’d like that, it went against the norm.

His thumb rubbed against his own engagement ring. His was simpler, he didn’t enjoy the over-the-top couture and showmanship of the Capitol, a think gold plated platinum band with a matching kite cut diamond flush set into it. The kite shape echoed by etchings around the placement. You had picked the ring out for him after seeing your own, saying that you wanted it to match with yours. It was ironic that you chose a kite shape. They flew high in the sky, a symbol of freedom and soaring ambition.

The luncheon was nice, you had to admit. You didn’t have a living grandmother and it was nice to talk with Grandma’am as you ate. She kept telling stories of Coriolanus’ youth, much to his chagrin. The stories, and how he treated her, were different than what you had expected. He was cold towards Tigris, but he had so much warmth towards Grandma’am. What had happened between the two that caused a rift? Grandma’am spoke as if the two had been thick as thieves growing up.

When the plates were cleared, you joined Grandma’am in the kitchen as she made coffee for the two of you, Coriolanus somewhere in the apartment answering a message on his communicuff. You had offered to do it but she insisted on doing it herself, telling you that the machine was too complicated for a guest to use. But you know exactly how to use it, but that was a secret.

When she sat across from you, both your mugs steaming, her eyes were sombre. “Can you be honest with a foolish old woman?”

“I don’t see any old women here, but I can be honest.” her chuckle was wethered and dry, telling of someone who had lived through too much.

“I know my Coriolanus is a difficult man,” she always insisted on using his full name. “He’s much like his father in that regard, and I would know having raised them both. But you’re good for him. When I see him with you it's like all the horrible things he had to live through are forgotten, and that he’s that smiling boy running around the apartment with his mother chasing after him again.” Grandma’am’s voice broke as the spoke, teetering on the edge of crying.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She loved him so much.

“I love him Grandma’am, I really do.” candour in every word you spoke. “With him, I feel like I can do anything, be anything. Sometimes I think it’s all too good to be true and that one day I’ll wake up and this was all a dream that I had. Every day I pinch myself to make sure it's still real.”

“Will you always?”

“There’s no future in which I don’t love him. He’s my now and always. And even if one day we weren’t together anymore, I’d still love him and I’d still support him. Just like he’d do the same for me.”

As you spoke Grandma’am’s tears flowed freely, but they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of gratitude. She saw in you that she didn’t have to worry anymore, that someone other than her would love him unconditionally. Be a sanctuary to his troubled heart.

“Thank you.” as the older woman bawled you got up to hug her, rubbing her back as she sobbed.

Coriolanus had heard the whole thing but he couldn’t tell if you had said it for her or it was a confession of your true feelings. You were always perfect at playing your part.

taglist: @serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad

#tdoaa #the death of an actor #uzuri writes #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #corio snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x you #tbosas #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #hunger games smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg fanfiction #smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut

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skzstannie · 9 months

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“We’d never want you to struggle alone”

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: angst wc: ~2100 cw: mentions of depression and death of family members, hatred for the holidays

Hi guys! Here’s my attempt at some Christmas/holiday angst. The fluffy Part 2 is posted and linked at the bottom of this post!

Feedback and likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated! I haven't got the chance to interact with too many people on here yet, so reach out if you'd like!

Happy scrolling!

"Hey guys, I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed. Chan Oppa, I'm gonna go lay down in your room until everyone's ready to go back to our dorm," you wave off their comments asking you to stay with them and make your way to the leader's bedroom.

It's December 20th, and the guys are all gathered around the television in the 3Racha/Hyunjin dorm, binge watching Christmas movies. During a normal year, you'd all be at your own homes with your families, cozying up to the fireplaces and drinking hot chocolate with your siblings. However, this was no normal year, and your comeback ran too close to the holidays, not allowing you nor the boys to go home for Christmas. Not that you particularly minded; you hated the holidays.

You imagine what you'd be doing at home right now, no doubt curled up in your bed with an exciting romance novel, listening to some dark academia playlist you'd found on YouTube.

But you're not home, you're stuck here with a bunch of Christmas-crazed dorks who have spent the last few weeks decorating your dorms full of all things Santa Claus. You've been managing to sneak away whenever any holiday-esque activities are taking place. You've not told them of your hatred towards the holidays, and you're not really planning to, either, not wanting to be the reason their fun-filled nights are ruined; they're already sad enough about not being able to head home for the holidays, the last thing you want to do is be a scrooge. So, you’ve resorted to humbly excusing yourself, busying yourself with your own activities when the occasion arises.

As you walk into Chan's room, you take notice of all the little trees he has decorating his room. Cute. You pick up the picture of his family he has resting on his nightstand beside his bed. You stare at his mom, dad, siblings, and grandparents smiling faces, feeling the familiarly unavoidable pit in your stomach form.

Your parents and one set of your grandparents passed away in a car wreck about five years ago, before you debuted with the guys. Your other grandparents, your mother's parents, passed away before you were born, never getting the opportunity to meet them. So, that left just you and your brother. Your brother, being a few years older than you, started his own family the summer after your parents passed. He has a beautiful wife and two children now, one boy and one girl. They got right to baby-making after they got married, so excited to start a family of their own. Unfortunately, that family never included you. You only know of their children because you’re mutuals with your sister-in-law on social media.

Your brother essentially ghosted you after his first child was born. You two were never the closest sibling duo, but you never expected him to completely drop you and ignore your existence. But he did, and that's just something you have learned to live with.

You were not in a healthy place after all this happened. You had no one to go to when your heart was breaking, grieving the loss of both your dead and alive family members. You put all your focus into the trainee program, all your sadness and anger towards the world into your dance and song. Chan eventually found you on that one fateful day that you deemed saved your life. You were at the lowest of your low, and you thought you had finally reached your breaking point, but then walked in Christopher Bang Chan, all smiles and laughter. He recruited you to be in his group as one of the first, right after Han. From then on, you had another reason to keep going, to keep fighting.

You've never told the guys this. You have always been a more reserved member, keeping all of your personal life out of the spotlight. While the boys never heard you talk much about your family, really only knowing you have a brother, they always thought that, when you went home for the holidays, you went home to a nice big house filled with love. They thought when you walked in the doors to your childhood home, you were welcomed in by your parents with opened arms, beckoning you in. They thought you spent your Christmas mornings opening nicely wrapped presents, followed by a home-cooked breakfast that'd be shared amongst your family.

They didn't know of the single bedroom apartment you called yours. They didn't know of the bareness that captured your living room, baren of all things Christmas and the lack of Christmas cookies and presents on Christmas Day. They didn't know you've always spent your holidays alone.

Honestly, you were completely fine with their assumptions. You didn't need nor want their pity. Your family was still an incredibly sensitive topic to you. Before their passing, you were so very close. You'd spent every holiday together, enjoying your time as a family, doing all the cliche things. You'd even gone caroling a few times, walking around your childhood neighborhood singing the classic Christmas songs off-key to your friendly neighbors.

Afraid you'd spiral, leading you right back to how you'd been before Chan found you, you never brought it up, and the boys never pushed you to talk about your family. They figured you were normal with a mom, dad, and a loving brother-so what's to talk about?

The holidays have never felt the same; you knew they wouldn't. So why try? Why go through the effort of making yourself a nice Christmas dinner, attending church on Christmas eve and waking up early Christmas morning, when you knew your parents wouldn't be there to greet you. When you knew your grandmother wouldn't be there to give you the biggest hug she could muster in her old age. When your grandfather wouldn't be there to give you a hearty pat on the back, his only true form of physical affection you'd ever experienced in all your years with him.

A quiet knock pulls you out of your thoughts, and in walks Felix with a glass of milk in hand. You quickly set down the picture frame you didn't realize you were still holding and give him a warm smile.

"Hey, what's up?" you ask him, taking the glass from him and sipping on the cold beverage.

"I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright. You've been pretty distant for a couple weeks now. Is everything ok?"

You're a little caught off guard, this being the first time anyone's noticed your pulling back since the beginning of December. You honesty didn't even realize anyone was paying attention to you, all of them too caught up in the festive activities and excitement of the season.

"Yea, I mean, I'm fine. Just a bit of seasonal depression," you write off his concerns.

"I didn't know you had that," Felix ponders his thoughts for a minute, giving you a loving look. "Is there anything I can do to help? Have you always had seasonal depression?"

While looking into Felix's warm, brown eyes, you decide that keeping all these things from them all these years has been unfair. They're never afraid of sharing their personal struggles with you. You think back to all the times Han's came to you with anxiety, and how you've wanted nothing more than to take away all his worry and pain. How Seungmin's came to you with his insecurities, and you always hyping him up, calling him the most beautiful boy. If any of them had kept their struggling to themselves, it'd crush you. How dare they feel like they couldn't come to you? Why would they want to struggle alone?

You realize that these feelings are most definitely reciprocated by the guys. Now, feeling vulnerable after being left alone with your thoughts for so long, you have the dire urge to come clean about your family.

"Actually Felix, I've been struggling with this for quite some time now. Can you, maybe just, listen? I've never talked to anyone about this, but I want to now. I want you guys to know," you fiddle with your hands, sliding one of your rings on and off your finger.

"Of course! You can always talk to me. Go ahead, I'm listening." He grabs your hand, halting your fidgeting. You look up at him, take a deep breath, and let it all out. Everything you've been holding onto these last few years. It probably sounds like word vomit, all your feelings and hardships falling out of your mouth at lightning speed. You finish your rambling, and you finally have the courage to look up at his face again.

He's crying. Equipped with all the theatrics, the wobbly lip and rosy cheeks. You made Felix cry with all your problems. You reach up to his cheek, wiping a few of his falling tears.

"Ok, I think I'm done," you freeze as Felix also brings his index finger up to your cheek. You flinch when he pulls away, seeing the dampness of it.

You're crying, too. You didn't even realize. I mean, it makes sense. You just trauma dumped all of your troubles onto Felix, the world's most renowned empath, of course you'd be crying.

You guys sit in silence for a minute, before Felix's whimpers become audible. He's so visibly distraught, and your heart breaks even more just at the mere sight of him.

He launches himself at you, clinging to you so tightly you think your ribs may crack. He tackles you back onto the bed, resting on top of you.

"Why did you never tell us this?" his sobs wreck through his body, his arms trembling around you, "We could've helped you."

"I was scared," you wriggle one of your arms free of his embrace, using it to affectionately run your hand through his hair. Your sobs join together as one, both of you a mess. "I was scared you guys would pity me, or look at me less. I was scared that I'd spiral again if I talked about it."

"Well, we're here now, Jagiya." He sits up after a few minutes. His cries have quieted, and so have yours. "We aren't going to let you continue going through this alone, ya know. We are one, and if one of us is hurting, we're all hurting. Please don't keep things like this from us anymore." He begs, standing from the bed. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, making his way towards the door.

"Where are we going?" your voice shakes and you pull away from Felix, standing in the middle of Chan's room. You wrap your arms around your middle, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

"You know we have to tell the rest of them. They deserve to know, too."

"Felix, I don't think I can tell the story again. Once was enough for a lifetime."

"OK, do you feel comfortable with me telling them? I'll tell them exactly what you told me, no more, no less, ok?"

You frantically nod your head, grateful for Felix's suggestion.

He blows you a playful kiss, no doubt trying to make you feel better, and he leaves to go to the living room. You take your seat back down on the side of the bed and wait patiently for Felix to finish.

You don't hear much for the next few minutes, but you're startled by the swinging open of the door, the handle cracking against Chan's poor wall. Han stands there, a dazed look on his face. His glassy eyes meet yours, and you shriek when he takes off, leaping onto the bed onto your small frame. He wraps you up in a big hug, squeezing the life out of you.

"We love you, and we'd never want you to struggle alone. We're in this life together."

One by one, the rest of the guys make their way into the room onto the bed. We're haphazardly thrown into a cuddle pile of sorts. A cuddle pile filled with the love and adoration you've been missing during the holidays.

You all lay in each other's arms, and you feel incredibly comfortable and safe. Chan's the first to break the silence, "We have five days left until Christmas. What do you say we make some new Christmas traditions? We don't want to replace what you used to have, and you’re entitled to spend your Christmas season as you'd like. But, if you'll let us, we’ll give you something to look forward to about the holidays again. Please?" The guys are all looking at you now, each of them displaying a face that could rival a sad puppy.

You realize now that there's nothing to be scared of. These are your best friends you're talking about, who want nothing but to shower you in love and happiness.

"I'd love that."

Part 2

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz 9th member #stray kids ninth member #stray kids 9th member #skz ninth member #part 1/2

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satorusugurugurl · 3 months

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I Think He Knows: (Chapter Nine)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,860

Warning: confessions, loss of virginity, smut, lovemaking, fingering, unprotected sex

A/N: so were actually going to have two more parts! Part ten and an Epilougue! 🥹 sorry for the late post this was a long chapter and someone decided to fall asleep in the pool after chugging down margaritas and yeah—it was all me 😬

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Ten Part Eleven

Love?

That simple four-letter word weighed like a ton in your heart and the pit of your stomach. Did Suguru tell you he loved you? Your breath quickened as he stroked your hair gently; his dark eyes bore into yours.

“You—you love me?”

“Yes, god, I love you.”

Every time he said that your stomach fluttered with butterflies of excitement. But his eyes shut tight as he pulled his forehead away from yours, allowing him to look at your entire face. His was still shirtless, pants pulled down to his thighs, and you were naked, but something about being so exposed made this moment that much more intense.

“How long have you loved me?”

Suguru sat up straight, allowing him to give you his full undivided attention. “I knew I liked you the first day we met. But that grew into a crush that turned into a bigger crush in high school; before I knew it, I was utterly in love with you.” He shut his eyes as he smiled warmly. “Which was as easy as breathing.” You rested your hands on his shoulders, flushing at the sweet words.

“But why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You pursed your lips together. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t been scared of your deepening feelings and what that would do to your friendship. “I mean, when you said you couldn’t do, uhm—“ you motioned to the position you were still in, “this, it almost ruined me.” Because you were afraid, your boldness had ruined that nearly two-decade-long friendship.

“But I know now, I have to be honest. I can’t keep living with this secret on my chest.” He gently cupped your cheek in his warm hand, his finger caressing the skin. “You deserve to know the truth.” When you didn’t oppose his words, Suguru took a deep breath. “The day Utahime found your cottage hit me like a train. When you said you could be gone for two years, my stomach fell out of my ass. Because the thought of being away from you for that long was unimaginable.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Who else would ensure I was taking care of myself, bringing me food, dragging me away from my canvas? No one cares for me like you.”

“I did promise your mom I’d look out for you.” You try to joke, but his confession has your voice breaking as you are overwhelmed by his sweet words.

“Yeah, and that’s why my folks love you too.” He brushed against your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But that night, we went to dinner to celebrate you finding the cottage; I didn’t know what to do. You were so excited about going, and I wanted to support you. But thinking about you leaving and falling in love with some European guy made my stomach hurt.”

You cocked an eyebrow and giggled. “Some European guy?”

“Yeah, like a French model or something.” You laugh again, and it’s like music to his ears. “But when Nanami told me you were struggling with the intimate scenes in your book and that going on this retreat might help. I decided that if I could help you with those scenes, maybe I’d finally work up the courage to tell you how I felt, but it became something else. Something deeper, something more profound and intimate. I was something living off a stupid idea when I should’ve just been honest with you. We could just be together. And I almost managed to fuck that up.”

“Suguru—”

“I was an idiot. I should’ve been blunt and honest about how I felt instead of hiding behind the idea that I was helping you. If I’m being honest, doing all this intimate stuff with you made me fall even more in love with you. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I’m beating around the bush. I fucking love you.”

“Suguru—I—”

“You don't have to say it back; I just needed you to know because I can’t just sleep with you. Not when you deserve so much more.”

His confession was raw and honest, making your heart sing. Without thinking, you pulled his hands away from your face; Suguru's eyes widened as if he thought maybe you were angry. But when your lips slammed against his in a heated kiss that had that simmering desire in your lower stomach roaring to life again. His arms wrapped around you, pressing you firmly against his bare chest, turning his head to deepen the kiss. His erection was hardening again, rutting against your lower stomach; before things progressed any further, you broke the kiss, panting heavily.

He had been so honest with you; he deserved to know how you felt. “Suguru—I-I could’ve been honest too— because I felt the same way early into our agreement. I kept telling myself that you were helping me out, being a good friend, when I knew for a fact that there was more to it. When I thought you were leaving for four months, my world seemed to stop.” His hands gently ran up and down your back as you spoke. “I realized I needed to tell you how I felt, but uhm—“ with a nervous chuckle, you flushed, “I got some advice to show you how I felt; that's why I—I jumped you like this.” Suguru scoffed, shaking his head, and exhaled heavily through his nose.

“And I was told to talk to you.” A comfortable silence draws out between you. “God, we're a couple of idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we are.” You let out a sing-song giggle as Suguru chuckles, trailing kisses slowly up your neck. “A couple of idiots in love.”

The sensations of Suguru’s lips slowly moving up your neck stopped at the spot right beneath your earlobe. You could feel how hot his breath was as he slowly inhaled and exhaled against your skin. The burning desire slowly began to spread from your body to all the other parts of you. Your skin was sensitive to his hands running over you, your heart was slamming against your ribs, and you felt yourself getting wetter as Suguru pulled away from your neck to stare into your eyes.

His cock was hard and throbbing inside of his boxers. He didn't remember the last time he was this turned on or if there had ever been a time in his life when he had been so hard. This was different; tension and excitement settled in his stomach. He wanted this, wanted you so fucking bad. Not because he wanted you, wanted to pop your cherry.

He wanted to love you in every way he was able to.

“I—I want you.” The breathless needy whisper nearly had him cumming in his pants. “Sugu, please, I want you to be my first for everything.”

Your first, did you want him to be your first? God, this was happening. It wasn’t a dream this time.

“You’re positive? You want to do this?”

“I’ve never been more sure about it in my life.”

One of Suguru’s hands slowly slid down your back, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. The warm, calloused fingers brushed over your hip before they slid lower until they found your clit. He pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves and slowly circled it just the way you liked it. His fingers rubbing against you sent your body jerking forward with a high-pitched moan.

Your legs were shaking, and your voice seemed to crack as Suguru dipped his finger lower, growling at the wet slick that he brushed against. You were soaking wet. The thought of being buried inside of you when you were this wet had his self-control wavering. Accidentally hurting you was the last thing Suguru ever wanted to do; this was your first time; he wanted it to be perfect, to be as painless as it could be. So instead of shoving his cock deep inside of you, he pushed his middle and ring finger into you.

The way your voice hitches, eyes going wide as he slowly begins pumping his fingers in and out of your tight, wet heat, has your eyes shut tight. Your voice breaks the soft whimpers invading Suguru’s ears as he curls his fingers up, rubbing your g-spot with experienced strokes. A tremor starts through your legs, making its way up to your hips and stomach. You melt like butter with each come-hither stroke and kiss against your neck.

Suguru grunts softly as you begin rolling your hips against his hand, spreading your wet arousal over the palm of his hand as he moves faster and harder, the sound of your moans and whimpers feeding into his speed, making him more eager, please you get you off, he wanted this to be the best first time anyone could ask for. His teeth sunk into your neck, drawing out a sharp gasp from you as his fingers rubbed that spongy spot inside of you. Wet squelches filled the bedroom, and the sounds of him finger fucking you only made you wetter.

“S-Suguru—”

He hummed, lapping his tongue over the bite mark he had left in his wake. “You’re so wet~ does this feel good, princess~?”

“Ye-Yeah fuck, it feels really good—i-I think I'm gonna—”

“Ooh gonna cum for me already~?”

“Mhmm.”

“Was my princess that horny that she’s already going to cum for me? I've barely touched you.” His lips pressed against yours softly as he rubbed your g-spot harder. “You can cum~ I plan on making you cum again~.”

His bold declaration, the expert strokes, and his lips on your neck sucking on it were all you needed to send you over the edge of an orgasm you had never experienced before. It was much more intense before a gush of liquid coated Suguru’s hand. Seeing you squirt, feeling your juices coat, His hand had Suguru’s pupils the size of pinpricks, his fingers gently pulling out of you before glancing down at his wet fingers before slowly trailing up to your pleasure-drunk face.

“Didn't take you for a squirter.” He teased, flipping you both so you were pressed back against the bed.

“G-Gotta k-keep you—haaah—” your eyes rolled back as you spread your legs as wide as you could for Suguru. “on your t-toes.”

Your best friend hummed at your breathless words as he reached down, pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His heartbeat echoed inside of his ears as you kept your eyes wide open for him, exposing your beauty to him. After years of imagining being with you, holding you close, making love to you, all those dreams were about to come true for him.

You watched as Suguru reached into his pants, grabbing his wallet. Your eyes focused on the foil package. He pulled it out, opening it with his teeth. That in itself could have made you cum for a second time without him even touching you. His hands moved with experience sliding the condom over his cock, before staring down at you for a second before blinking.

He leaned back, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. "You're not allergic to latex, are you?"

“No, I’m not.”

“Princess.” Suguru slowly learned to get closer to you. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? You want to do this?” He pressed his forehead on yours, darting between your eyes to your lips. “You know I’d wait for you as long as needed.”

There he went again, being as caring and considerate as possible. “You asking that makes me not doubt a single thing.” Suguru flushed as you placed your hand on his, gently stroking his knuckles. “I want you to be my first; I wholeheartedly do. Because I love you.” Suguru smiled back, nodding. He pulled his hand away from your face, intertwining your fingers.

“I love you too, Princess.” He slots himself between your legs, taking a deep breath. “Let me know if it hurts, okay? I don't want to hurt you."

"I will." She whispered, kissing him softly. "Suguru, I love you so much."

The man you had been friends with for years, whom you’d fallen hopelessly in love with, smiled softly, leaning in and kissing you deeply. "I love you so much.” He held his cock by the base, the thick shaft heavy in his hands. “Ready Princess?" You nodded, wrapping your arms around him, allowing him to lose himself in your intoxicating scent.

"Ready."

“Okay, honey, tell me if it hurts.” Suguru pushed into your tight entrance gently, his width stretching you out more than you imagined it could. "F-Fuck—”

Thanks to Suguru prepping you and ensuring you were as wet as possible, it didn’t hurt like you had feared it would. Instead, you moaned and whimpered, yet whimpered at the same time. "F-Fuck, O-Oh god." You said, gazing into his eyes as he watched you closely, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain that washed over your features.

When your eyebrows knitted together, Suguru slowly paused. "D-Do you need me to stop for a second, Princess?"

"Y-Yeah." You confessed as you gently gripped onto his arms. "Y-You're just really big."

“Oh, yeah—” An almost sudden swarm of confidence swelled in his chest as Suguru nodded, stilling above you as he panted. "N-Need me to pull out?"

"N-No." You took a calming breath. "I just needed a second to adjust—you can keep going, Sugu. It's not so much that it hurts—I feel full."

Suguru nodded again, pressing gently kisses against your cheeks as he slowly began pushing further inside you again. "Mm, I see; as long as you're not in pain, that’s all that matters to me~” A whine resonates in your chest, causing your walls to squeeze Suguru gently. Making your tight, wet heat even tighter. “Fuck you're so tight, Princess—”

“A-And your cock, is thick,” You gasped, your eyes rolling back as you released your arms around his neck, one hand grabbing his own while the other grabbed at the bedding. "But it feels so good, I-I want m-more please.”

Suguru took a second to admire you as a whole truly. How you gently squeezed his fingers, how your other arm wrapped around your head, fingers gripping the pillow behind your head. The way your face was contorting with the pleasure of slowly getting fucked as a growl rose in the back of his throat while he looked down at you. Never in his life had Suguru ever seen someone as beautiful as you.

God, he loved you. He loved you so much that it hurt. He never wanted to do something like this with anyone else. Not when you looked like a literal goddess underneath him. You were taking him so well; it had his cock twitching as he thought of how pretty you’d be in all sorts of different positions.

"Fucking Christ, you look so pretty and perfect—" He started to slide into you again, his mouth open as he tried to breathe regularly. “Like you were fucking made for me, baby, god. I love you, fuck.”

"Y-You're so handsome." You cried softly as he slid further into your tight walls. His eyes narrowed in pure concentration as you shuddered and squirmed. The way his dark, pierced brow twitched as dark strands of his hair fell from his bun to hang in his face would make anyone’s heart palpitate. Geto Suguru wasn’t with just anyone; he was with the girl he loved: you. "I love you~ I—I need all of you Sugu~"

Hearing you say how handsome he was and how you needed all of him, your best friend bit his bottom lip as he shuddered. His head rested on your shoulder as he breathed heavily against your flushed skin. "F-Fuck, if you keep talking like that, I might not even get the chance to do that, Princess." He pressed into you until your hips met, making him moan softly as he was fully buried inside of you. You were his whole world, the only woman he had ever truly loved.

"R-Right, sorry you just—nngh!” He slowly rolled his hips into you, causing you to dig your nails into his back. “O-Oh, god." You said, looking down at your conjoined bodies. "Fuck that feels good." Your walls twitched eagerly around him. "Fuck~"

“Oh, Princess,” Suguru chuckled before he panted against your skin. “You haven’t felt anything yet.” Hot, open, mouthed kisses trailed along your shoulder and up your neck. “Is it okay if I move?” Suguru’s heavy breathing and gentle tone of voice relaxed every tight muscle in your body.

You panted heavily along with him. "Y-Yes, god, yes, please.” You said, kissing his shoulder gently as he pulled back to look at you.

Suguru caught your lips with him in a desperate kiss. As his tongue slowly slid into your mouth, he started to pull out of you before rolling his hips and thrusting back in. You let out a wanton whine into each hungry kiss, your legs shaking as you slowly wrapped them around his waist. God, you loved him; you loved him so damn much. His personality, his looks, his heart. But the way he was gently fucking into you, making love with you, made you fall even harder if that was even possible.

Suguru started to sweat, his face a dusty rose color from the effort he put in to hold back to avoid hurting you. But each time he slid in, and you tightened around him, or your breath caught, or you’d unknowingly rock back against him, it drove him crazy. His kisses became less gentle, harder, desperate against your lips, "D-Does this feel okay? Do you wanna keep this pace, or—“ his cheeks flushed, “W-Would it be okay—if I went a little harder?"

You stroked his cheek and nodded, licking at your swollen and bitten lips. "Y-Yeah, you can go harder a-and maybe—uhm—“

“Uhm, what? What do you need, Princess?”

“Could you go a little faster?”

Suguru swears he feels his balls clench at your request. He wants to take care of you, to be gentle and caring. He wanted your first time to be as unique as you were to him. But he was losing control. You felt so fucking good wrapped around him, your tight twitches trying to milk him for everything he had. Pulling him in deeper, squeezing the absolute hell out of him. That fragile grip he held on to, holding himself back, snapped like a twig in the breeze. His hips slowly dragged out and slammed back into you, picking up a more speedy rhythm. "F-Fuck—Princess—!!"

The increase in speed, Suguru’s deep primal moans in your ear, and the feeling of his body on you had your head reeled. You squeezed your legs around him tighter and harder, trying to rock against him to meet his pace. But your orgasm was building, causing every nerve in your body to catch on fire as you trashed your head back and forth, crying out in pleasure as his cock hit your g-spot with each rolling thrust. His feet dug into the sheets, pushing them down the mattress as he attempted to bury himself deeper inside of you while he pinned your hand to the bed, giving it a hard squeeze as he fucked into you with all of his strength.

The bed creaked under your combined weight, the headboard slamming against the wall as Suguru fucked into you. Drawing sounds you had never made before. Desperate cries., pleased groans, and sharp whines, god, this felt so good. You had never felt so good before. You found yourself in a hazy hue of pleasure as your orgasm began building inside of you, more intense than anything you had felt before.

“Fuck! Suguru!” You screamed out his name, your free hand abandoning the pillow and his hand digging your nails into his back. “O-Oh, my god!" Your moans got louder and louder with each manic thrust Suguru gave you. "I-I'm so close." You reached down with your right hand, rubbing your swollen hard clit.

“No.” Suguru grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from your clit, gently placing it back on his shoulder. “I got you.” His hand rubbed those circles you were craving over your sensitive bud.

“S-Suguru—haaah nnngh fuck! Fuck me!”

“Fuck you feel so fucking good—Princess, fuck, you're so tight, be a good girl and cum on me, cum on my cock—!!"

Your back arched off the mattress as you came. For the second time in your life, you squirted, only this time, it was all over his cock. This, by far, was the strongest orgasm you had ever had, and it ripped through your entire soul. Your walls clenched and hugged around Suguru, making him throb in return. Watching you was all it took to have him moaning, groaning, and whimpering as he came into the condom.

"Princess!!"

A string of your name left his mouth as he continued pushing inside of you. Fucking the tip of his cock firmly against your cervix as both of you kissed each other urgently. Nails digging into skin, fingers rubbing sensitive spots faster as your bodies rutted against each other.

After what seemed like an eternity of pleasurable waves, you whined as you rode out the last trembling waves of your orgasm. "Nnngh." You relaxed against the mattress as your nails stopped digging into Suguru’s back, opting to rub up and down his toned muscles gently.

Suguru hummed softly, slowly pulling back to stare down at you for a moment. Pushing stray strands of your hair out of your face. "Feeling okay?" He whispered as he slowly pulled out of you, taking care of the condom and tossing it in the trash.

"I feel," you looked, meeting Suguru’s watchful eyes. “Great, it didn’t hurt at all.”

There was a certain sense of pride in your words that had Suguru pulling you into his arms to snuggle you to his chest. He was so fucking happy; he just lay there breathing long, deep breaths as he brushed his fingers through your hair. "Yeah? Good, I'm glad it didn’t hurt. All I want is for you to feel nothing but pleasure. Are you sure you’re okay?" You buried your face into his chest, draping your arm over his chest, before turning to look at the palm of your hand.

“I guess I just thought I would feel different.”

“Different, how?”

"I don't know, to change inside and out." You whispered, glancing up towards his face. "Like I would finally be a woman or something.”

Suguru grinned, pressing his lips against yours with a gentle kiss. “Yeah? Are you disappointed that you don’t feel different?” He watched as you gently propped your chin on his chest, your cheeks flushed as you shyly smiled.

“No, because something even better happened than changing inside and out.”

“Oh yeah, and what is that?”

“I got to fall deeper in love with you.” You felt Suguru’s breath hitch as his eyes widened, focusing on your pretty face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Suguru kissed you harder, pulling you tighter against his body before he broke the kiss. “Be mine, please.”

You flushed as he gently stroked your cheek with his hand. “Yours?” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“My girlfriend, please, Princess; I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone but you, Suguru. Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Your boyfriend could have jumped over the moon. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you, thank you.” More kisses were planted over your cheeks before finally meeting your lips. “Do me a favor and just stay here for a second. I'm going to get you some water and a warm rag.”

Suguru did exactly as he promised, putting on a movie in the background as he gently wiped you clean with a warm rag. He insisted you drink plenty of water, filling up your bottle twice before he crawled back in bed with you. As you lay in bed, Siguru gently massaged your shoulders and thighs, easing the burning ache that was starting to settle in them. He was so gentle with you, making you feel as loved if not more, the hours after you had sex, proving to be the perfect boyfriend.

Your relationship with the new title, boyfriend, and girlfriend didn't change much. Aside from the sex, the quiet ‘I love you’ whispered in passing, and the subtle displays of PDA in public, nothing changed. Instead, your friendship seemed to grow stronger. Full of more laughter and love, something both of you had longed before for so long.

Two weeks passed, and you both had been in Okinawa for a month before you knew it. Your days were spent transcribing, working on rewrites, and talking to Nanami and Utahime over the phone while you sat in the aquarium with Suguru as he worked. It was a month full of changes, healing, and love. Coming to Okinawa with you was the best decision Suguru ever made.

The pain of what happened to Riko was still there and would always linger, but with each passing day, Suguru felt his heart and soul heal a little more. That was all thanks to you. With due time, the throbbing stabbing pain would hurt more like a pinch to the skin. As long as you stood by his side, Suguru knew he would get through it.

He put his whole heart into the mural he painted, going above and beyond what he had initially done on canvas. He put so much detail into Riko, the fish, and his friends, whom he hadn’t seen for a month. But his favorite part of the painting was the subtle change he had made to you both. He had painted you holding hands, a simple fix that made his heart swell each time he saw it. A change that both of you loved.

While Suguru’s painting looked terrific, your writing improved tremendously! Nanami had nothing but good things to say about your intimate scenes and how your characters had grown with you. He was sure the next book you worked on would top the first one, leaving you feeling as good as your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

God, you couldn’t get over that your best friend for years had become your boyfriend! Every time you would steal him while he would move his paintbrush against the wall, you’d giggle, hiding your face in your hands, your boyfriend painted. Being with him in Okinawa was the best choice you made, even though you had to make a sacrifice for it. If you were allowed to redo this all over again, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing about it.

After a long, hard day of panting and cleaning up details, Suguru stepped down from the ladder and grinned at the scene with Riko. All the base colors were done on this wall; he just had to add the rest to the other half, and then he could start adding details, followed by shading and highlights. As he admired his work, Suguru felt your arms snake around him as you smothered your face into his back.

“It looks great, baby,” your whisper was almost smothered by how deep your face was in his back. “Good work today.”

“Mmm, thanks, Princess. Only three months to go, but if I keep up the pace, I might get done sooner than that.”

“Well, no matter how long it takes, I’ll be beside you.”

You pulled away only to receive a kiss to the temple. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You were yourself.” You answered without hesitation, smiling wide as Suguru ruffled the top of your head.

“You flatter me; I love you—” Before Suguru could kiss you, he stepped forward, knocking over a paint can. “Shit!” Suguru quickly grabbed some towels he kept around wiping it up. “Baby, could you g—?”

“On it!”

You were already running out of the sealed-off area, rushing to the bathroom to grab some damp and dry paper towels. Suguru watched you leave, grinning as he quickly cleaned up as much paint as he could. While he did his best not to smear the teal paint more, your phone on the table you worked at started buzzing.

Suguru groaned, abandoning his messy cleanup and wiping his hands on his shirt before looking to see Utahime’s name on your screen; he knew you had been waiting for her call to let you know if she got your next chapter approved, so he answered the phone. Holding it between his ear and shoulder, he hurried back to his mess.

“Hey Utahime, my girlfriend stepped away, what’s up?”

He chuckled at the sigh that came through the phone receiver. “Could you refer to each other by your first names like normal people? Would that be too much to ask?” Suguru tossed a few dirty towels in the bucket next to him, full of empty paint tubes.

“Yes, that is asking for way too much.”

“Whatever!” Utahime barked before huffing out in annoyance. “Look, can you tell my client that I need her to email me the letter of denial for the cottage? She was supposed to send it yesterday.”

Before the beautiful memories of last night that involved lots of shower sex could cloud Suguru’s mind, he repeated Utahime’s words to himself. “Letter of denial? Why? I thought she was waiting to see if she even got accepted or could stay for a few months rather than two years.”

“Yeah, well, the owners only do a two-year lease. They had been holding off on rebooking the cottage for your girlfriend since she had shown interest in it, and they were repairing the roof.” Papers rustled in the background. “But now that the roof is fixed, she only has until the end of the month to sign all the papers for her stay.” The end of the month was tomorrow. “But since she decided to go to Okinawa, she must send in the denial letter. That way, they can lease it to this other couple that is interested.”

Suguru’s mouth felt dry as he sat back on his knees. “Wait, what?” Sensing the shock in his voice, Utahime blinked.

“She declined the offer and went to Okinawa with you.”

So many thoughts flowed in Suguru’s mind as he put the puzzle pieces together. That’s why you were so upset on that first day here, distant and off. You had given up on one of your dreams to help him. It was a complete and utterly unselfish thing for you to do for him.

Suguru loved you so incredibly much that he knew what to do.

“Geto, are you there?”

“Uh yeah! Sorry, hey, about that denial letter, she actually—.”

Ten minutes later, you returned with a bucket and fresh towels. You were praying the pain hadn’t settled into the floor yet; you hadn’t anticipated it would take you this long to get the materials your boyfriend needed to clean up. But the custodian you had run into was nice enough to help you retrieve some towels and cleaning products you could use.

“Sorry it took so long, babe! I told one of the staff members what happened, and they just got me some towels!

You watched as Suguru hung up your phone, placing it back on your table. “Oh, no worries; I got a lot of it up, so cleaning the rest won’t be that big of a deal.” Suguru watched as you dropped to your knees and started wiping up the remaining paint streaks, taking your happy, smiling face in and saving it to his memory because he’d need to remember you like this.

“Say after this, let me take you shopping for some clothes. Maybe a new laptop and stuff.”

“Huh? But why? My laptop is doing okay.”

“Because I want to spoil my girlfriend for a bit.”

Without hesitation or arguments, you let your boyfriend take you to the store and get you some new clothes, more suitcases, and snacks. You thought he wanted to spend a weekend with you, like a movie marathon, on the beach, where you both lazily stared off into the horizon. While you fantasized about the weekend to come in the warm, sunny Okinawa, Suguru’s stomach was twisted in knots.

The whole helping-you with your book agreement started because he didn’t want to lose you. How could he not be with you for two years? When he hadn’t even told you how he felt. But now that you were his girlfriend seeing how devastated you were over the prospect of losing the cottage that inspired you and knowing that you had sacrificed to help him made him realize how selfish he had been. Suguru didn’t want to be the one holding you back. He didn’t want you giving up on your dreams because you were more concerned about him and his happiness. You deserved to see the place that had inspired your book series in person. He couldn’t deny you that right.

So, as you both headed out of the aquarium, bags in hand while your fingers were intertwined, Suguru took a second to look at your face; your eyes wandered over the aquarium tanks, admiring fishes and whales like you every night when leaving. Your happy smile, the way you occasionally steal glances at him, and how you held his hand as tight as you could as you walked out to head back home. Suguru needed to savor every second of this evening with you.

In the morning, Suguru was going to watch you leave for Europe.

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etfrin · 7 months

Text

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-two | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | canon typical violence, canon typical deaths, murder, coriolanus snow | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus and Sejanus have a talk, and oh! Coriolanus has blood on his hands again

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 most of this chapter is directly from the book! Hope you like it!

Beta read by @nowitsmissing 🩷

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Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth were given the job of taking care of the jabberjays that were sent from the Capitol. It seemed like yesterday he and Dr. Gaul had a conversation about these words. He swallows the bitter feeling down his throat. The things he would do to get that time back.

He sighs, checking out the jabberjays in the cages. Snow and Sejanus didn't talk yesterday when he had stopped him from going after the girl they captured yesterday. Coriolanus looks at Sejanus, only to see him not by his side

Coriolanus finds him a bit further away, near the prison window in which the girl was kept. Coriolanus' eyes widened, annoyance filling in his veins. How stupid was this of Sejanus! Anyone could see him right now and get his ass in prison as well. How fucking typical of him. Of course, he was going to try to be a saint. The privileged stupid fuck.

“Sejanus,” he hissed, “Get here right now.”

Sejanus turns, a surprised look on his face before he relaxes. “Coryo,” he sighed, clearly thinking that it was fine. It's not and Coriolanus is mere moments away from punching him for his carelessness right now.

Sejanus looks at the girl. “I promise I will come back,” he said. Coriolanus frowns as he hears the words. Sejanus follows him near the jabberjays again.

“Are you insane?” Coriolanus asked, his eyes conveying his anger.

Sejanus winces and replies, “She's innocent.”

“She's a rebel!”

“They just wanted to go to the north! They just wanted to escape!”

Coriolanus looked around, nobody was around. “Lower your voice, Sej,” Coriolanus warns. “I have something good going on here. You have something good going on here. Don't ruin it.”

Sejanus' eyes cast down and Coriolanus knows. He knows something is wrong. Sejanus Plinth is gonna fuck up again. Big time.

“What is it?” Coryo asked, trying to soften his voice.

“You told me I could do something. You told me I could make a difference.”

“Like this!” Coryo hisses, “By being a rebel?”

“There is a group of locals getting out of District 12 for good.”

Coriolanus' breath hitches, but he doesn't say a word. His eyes fell to the remote, the button was pressed, then the jabberjays would record the Plinth boys’ exact words. Sejanus is distracted enough by his rage towards the Capitol that he doesn't notice Coriolanus pressing the button.

“You have to impress Dr. Gaul,” your voice reminds him.

Snow signed Sejanus Plinth's death warrant and he prayed that it was enough of a price to get him back to the Capitol. Back with you. Back with his birthright. He is simply taking what is his. This was a golden opportunity. It's really on Sejanus that he's being irrational.

Sejanus continues to talk.

“They're going up North to start a new life, far away from Panem. They need money for supplies. They told me we could go with them if I got it for them. You could come with us.”

“You're giving money to the locals,” Coriolanus said incredulously. His hatred for Sejanus increased greatly, he no longer cared about what he was doing. It was deserved.

“I can't stay here. I won't. They're not planning to do anything dangerous, okay.”

“It’s all dangerous,” Coriolanus replied.

“The leader, Spruce, wants to get his sister, Lil, out of jail."

“Are you insane?”

“Hoff is gonna execute her just because she knows the man. It's wrong.”

‘That’s not your problem!’ he wanted to yell. He doesn't.

“I am gonna help him get her out,” Sejanus continues.

“It's treason, Sejanus.”

“Nobody is gonna get hurt,” Sejanus defends.

“I am just doing what you told him to do at the arena.”

Coriolanus subtly rolls his eyes. He didn't mean it this way. This was all Sejanus. “I was just trying to save you,” Coriolanus snarls, “the first time you did stupid enough to ruin my life.” Coriolanus questions, “What if they catch you bringing this woman off base?”

“It's worth the risk to do the right thing.”

“For you,” Coriolanus emphasizes, reminding Sejanus of his privilege, “Your father will just buy your way out of it like he always does. While I'll be hung just for knowing you.”

Coriolanus takes a deep breath, “Don't do this.” Despite everything Sejanus was his… friend for a lack of words. He would throw away the remote if Sejanus agreed with him. Instead, Sejanus walks away. A silent protest. He will do it. And that leaves Coriolanus with no choice.

He stops the recording before checking if it recorded every word. It did. He places the jabberjay cage on the supply train, knowing that it is to go to Dr. Gaul.

Coriolanus did what he had to.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Coriolanus was in The Hob, along with you. Your head was on his shoulder, his arm possessively around your waist. You both were in the corner, listening to Lucy Gray sing. Coriolanus wondered briefly if he should tell you what he had done but decided later would be a better time.

Coriolanus sees Sejanus walking inside the back door of The Hob. Coriolanus' eyes narrow. “I'll be back,” he murmurs to you, his lips kissing your temple before he leaves you alone to follow Sejanus.

As he took a step in, he froze, suddenly aware of the barrel of a shotgun positioned inches from the side of his rib cage. He drew in his breath and was beginning to raise his hands slowly when he heard the quick tap of shoes behind him.

“So you guys slip in,” Lucy Gray said behind Coriolanus. Before Coriolanus can say anything, Spruce pulls him in and Lucy Gray follows without understanding the danger.

Sejanus jumps in, “No. It’s alright, Spruce. He’s with me. They’re all with me.”

The rebel looked them over. “Thought we agreed this was between us.”

“He’s like my brother,” said Sejanus. “He’ll cover for me when we run. Buy us more time.”

Coriolanus had promised to do no such thing, but he nodded.

Spruce redirected his barrel to Lucy Gray. “What about this one?”

“I told you about her,” said Billy Taupe. “She’s going north with us. She’s my girl.”

Coriolanus could see Lucy Gray clench her fist, then drop it. He had forgotten that she and Billy had dated. “If you’ll take me,” she said.

Spruce considered it, then shrugged and lowered the gun, releasing Lucy Gray from its hold. “I guess you’ll be company for Lil.”

Coriolanus’s eyes fell to the cache of weapons. Two more shotguns, a standard Peacekeeper rifle like the ones they used in target practice. Some sort of heavy piece that appeared to launch grenades. Several knives.

“That’s quite a haul.”

“Not for five people,” Spruce replied. “It’s the ammo I’m concerned about. Be helpful if you could get us some more of that from the base.”

Sejanus nodded. “Maybe. We don’t have access to the armory. But I can look around.”

“Sure. Stock up.”

Everyone’s head snapped toward the sound. A female voice, coming from the far corner of the shed. Coriolanus had forgotten about the second door since no one ever seemed to use it. In the pitch-blackness outside the lamp’s circle of light, he could not say if it was open or shut, or make out the intruder. How long had she been hiding there in the gloom?

“Who’s there?” said Spruce.

“Guns, ammo,” mocked the voice. “You can’t make more of that, can you? Up north?”

The nastiness helped Coriolanus place it from the night of the brawl in the Hob. “It’s Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter.”

“Trailing after Billy Taupe like a hound in heat,” said Lucy Gray under her breath.

“Always keep that last bullet somewhere safe. So as you can blow your brains out before they catch you,” said Mayfair.

“Get home,” ordered Billy Taupe. “I’ll explain this later. It’s not how it sounded.”

“No, no. Come in and join us, Mayfair,” invited Spruce. “We’ve got no quarrel with you. You can’t choose your pa.”

“We won’t hurt you,” said Sejanus.

Mayfair gave an ugly laugh. “’ Course you won’t.”

“What’s going on?” Spruce asked Billy Taupe.

“Nothing. She’s just talking,” he said. “She won’t do anything.”

“That’s me. All talk, no action. Right, Lucy Gray? How’d you enjoy the Capitol, by the way?” The door gave a small creak, and Coriolanus had the sense Mayfair was backing away, about to flee. With her would go his entire future. No, more than that, his very life. If she reported what she’d heard, the whole lot of them would be as good as dead.

In a flash, Spruce lifted his shotgun to shoot her, but Billy Taupe knocked the barrel toward the floor. Coriolanus reflexively reached for the Peacekeeper rifle and fired toward Mayfair’s voice. She gave a cry, and there was the sound of her collapsing to the floor.

“Mayfair!” Billy Taupe bolted across the shed to where she lay in the doorway. He staggered back into the light, his hand shiny with blood, spitting at Coriolanus like a rabid animal.

“What’d you do?”

Coriolanus gave her a push, and her feet started moving toward the door. “Go back. Get onstage. That’s your alibi. Go!”

“Oh, no. If I swing, she’s swinging with me!” Billy Taupe charged after her.

Without hesitating, Spruce shot Billy Taupe through the chest. The blast carried him backward, and he crumpled to the floor.

In the stillness that followed, Coriolanus registered the music coming from the Hob for the first time since Lucy Gray had finished her number. Maude Ivory had the entire warehouse caught up in a sing-along.

Keep on the sunny side, always the sunny side.

“You better do like he said,” Spruce told Lucy Gray. “Before they miss you and someone comes looking.”

Lucy Gray couldn’t take her eyes off Billy Taupe’s body. Coriolanus grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Go. I’ll take care of this.” He propelled her to the door.

She opened it, and they both looked out. The coast was clear. “You were never here,” Coriolanus whispered in Lucy Gray’s ear as he let her go. She stumbled across the pavement and into the Hob. He slid the door shut with his foot.

Coriolanus hears a knock on the door. “Coryo?” He hears your voice call out. Against his better judgment, he opens the door. Letting you walk in. “She's my girl, she won't do anything,” Coriolanus lets Spruce know.

“I…” You gape at the bodies before saying, “You don't have to murder everyone you're jealous of, Coryo. You know that me flirting with Billy Taupe was just me getting back at you, right?”

Coriolanus feels his cheek getting hot, a boyish embarrassment taking root in his mind. “I didn't kill him!” He defended, “It was him.” He points at Spruce. “I killed her,” he reveals.

“That bitch? Good riddance.”

Sejanus whispers your name, with tears in his eyes. You immediately soften, and Coriolanus wonders if he should kill Sejanus as well because he got you to react like that. Then Snow remembers Sejanus' impending future and lets it go.

“It's gonna be okay, Sej.”

Spruce stuffed the weapons back into the burlap bag. “They’re dead. I’m planning to keep this to myself. What about you three?”

“The same. Obviously,” said Coriolanus. Sejanus stared at them, still in shock. “Him, too. I’ll make sure.”

“You might think about coming with us. Someone’s going to pay for this,” said Spruce. He retrieved the lamp and vanished out the back door, throwing the shed into darkness.

You watch the rebel go. He’d successfully made it in and out of the shed without touching anything with his skin. Except for the gun he’d killed Mayfair with, of course, no doubt covered in his fingerprints and DNA — but Spruce would take that when he left District 12, never to return. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the handkerchief scenario. He could still hear Dean Highbottom taunting him. . . .

“Do you hear that, Coriolanus? It’s the sound of Snow falling.”

You and Sejanus follow him. Until Sejanus goes back to the hob to be with Lucy Gray and Coriolanus goes back to you in your room. “What was that? Do we need to hide the bodies?” You asked, “I can do something.” Coriolanus shakes his head, as much as he wants the help. He didn't want you involved, not when he was so close to getting out of here with you.

“The rebels will take the gun with them. There will be no evidence left.”

You nod. You pressed your lips against his lips, giving him the softest kiss he had ever received. “Be careful, Coryo,” you whispered.

“I will. I am sorry that this happened,” Coryo said.

“It's fine,” you smirk, “It's not like I cared about them.”

‘Do you care about Sejanus? He wanted to ask. 'Are you going to leave me for his fate?’

He didn't. He smiles back at you, before leaving.

Tomorrow is a new dawn.

Hopefully, Coriolanus' luck will work out this time.

NEXT PART

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imyourbratzdoll · 4 months

Text

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

part 1 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - you begin to spiral as you are betrayed by the two people in your life, causing you to question if everything was a lie.

warning - ANGST, !SMUT BUT CHEATING!, heavily detailed cheating, heartbreak, betrayal, bad thoughts, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 2

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Do you remember the pain of your crush rejecting you? The pain of a man you like, liking someone else? The pain of your boyfriend leaving you for someone else? Or the pain that you feel when you find out your partner is cheating on you? The pain that only love seems to cause. Because you know that pain extremely well, that pain has only embraced you recently. Like a flame wrapping around your body, slowly slithering inside of you, and burning your insides. That afternoon STILL haunts you, no matter how many times you try to push it out of your mind; the thoughts, the touches, the feel, the smell, everything is still so alive and killing you inside. It was the day you understood how powerful love could be if used improperly. You understood why so many people were afraid, why so many protected themselves against it. Some people don’t change… They just find new ways to lie.

Your best friend, Sarah, who you had known since you both were five, your mum’s having met while watching you on the playground, watching how you both clicked. Your bond had only grown stronger the older you got. Had come into town after having planned to hang out for much needed girl time and you had invited her to stay at yours and Johnny’s house.

You were rushing around the house ensuring that everything was set up, even though Johnny had told you everything was done. You huff. “Baby, are you sure everything is ready and perfect?” You asked your husband, your fingers entangled with one another from nerves as you played with them.

Your husband was Johnny Storm, famous ex–playboy. When you had met him. He was annoying, he was hilarious, he was the world’s biggest arsehole, he made you want to scream, he would ruin your day and save it at the last minute, he drove you crazy, he was out of his mind, you hated his guts, and he was everything you wanted. Somehow, you made it work. You had thought he changed.

Johnny grins, pulling you into him causing you to sink into his hold. “Yeah, babe. It’s going to be fine. Why are you stressing so much?”

You shrugged, biting on your bottom lip. “I haven’t seen her in a while. I just want everything to be perfect. I want her to feel at home.” Oh, how those words would come back to bite you on the arse.

He kisses the top of your head, “She will, babe. Don’t worry.”

Once everything was sorted and checked about twenty times. You hear a car pull up and quickly head towards the door and as you swing it open, arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug. You both squeal, squeezing each other. Your chin rests on her shoulder, eyes closed and smiling. Yet, her eyes were open and set on your husband with a smirk. You pull back, smiling brightly as she mimics yours. “I’ve missed you so much! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Sarah licks her lips, eyes flickering over to Johnny’s before going back to yours. “I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity!” You didn’t know that her words seemed to have a double meaning. You helped her with her bags, leading her over to the guest room which is next to yours and Johnny’s. The two of you chatting away as you catch up, your voice filled with such happiness, such pure joy.

The afternoon rolled around, and you both decided to start getting ready, after spending the day in the pool before dinner, you both desperately needed to wash the chlorine off. You let her shower first while you picked out your outfits, once she was done, a small towel tightly wrapped around her body. You headed into the bathroom, her close behind so that she could do her makeup. It had become a routine that you had grown used to growing up together. Neither of you were bothered by it.

You stripped once you had turned the shower on and ensured it was hot enough, when it was, you got in, the heat caused steam to coat the glass, making it foggy and hard to see through. You could only make out blurry shapes and Sarah’s fuzzy figure. You decided to take a longer shower, dinner wasn’t until later and you wanted to make sure everything was properly shaved, washed, and rinsed.

You were so zoned out while lathering yourself with soap that you didn’t notice Johnny sneaking into the bathroom and standing behind your best friend. His arms moved around her body as he began pressing kisses onto her exposed flesh. He pressed his bulge into her towel covered arse, groaning quietly. Sarah leans back into him, covering her mouth as he bends her over the counter slightly, lifting one of her legs onto it. “Keep doing your makeup, babygirl.” Johnny grunts quietly, running his fingers through her soaked cunt.

You moved under the water, sighing as it hit you, watching the soap roll of your body. Johnny’s head turns as he checks to make sure you haven’t noticed. His hand strokes up and down his hardened member before he slides into your best friend’s cunt. His gaze turns back to hers, watching as her mouth falls open. He smirks, thrusting all the way in as he leans close, whispering into her ear, making sure to keep their eyes connected. “You missed feeling me inside you, didn’t you? You’ve gotten so fucking tight, such a good girl for me.” She moans softly, rocking back into him. Johnny bites his lip as his thrusts pick up, the rush of being caught fucking his wife’s best friend makes him so fucking hard. He wondered if you would catch them, wondered how you’d react.

His eyes roll back at the thought, hands gripping Sarah’s hips tightly as he pounds into her harder. “Fuck, babygirl. I’m gonna fuck you so much while you’re here. Gonna pump you so full, make up for lost time.” One hand leaves her hip and moves up to her hair, gripping a fistful, pulling her back against him, she still tries to apply her makeup as he fucks into her harder and faster. Her eyes flutter, desperately trying to make sure she doesn’t screw up anything, her mouth falls open as Johnny begins to pound into her sweet spot, her hand drops and she grips onto the counter, pushing back into him, meeting his thrusts. “What a little slut.” He grips her hair tighter, nipping a sensitive spot on her neck, groaning when he feels her tighten around him. “You like getting fucked by your best friend’s husband while she’s in the room, huh? Like being my dirty girl?”

Their heads snap over when you open the shower door slightly, their movements not stopping, Johnny only fucks into her faster, a shiver rushing through him at the thought of your eyes connecting with theirs, watching him ruin your childhood friend.

You grab a small cloth to rub some shampoo out of your eyes, not noticing the two in the room. You close the door and go to continue your shower until a moan cut through the air. Your brows furrow, wondering if you imagined it or if someone really did moan. Your question is answered as the moan is followed by a muffled shut up and you begin to focus on the glass, squinting to try and see who is making the noise.

Johnny growls lowly, his hand covers Sarah’s mouth, cupping it roughly as he fucks into her faster. His other hand slides between her and the counter before finding her swollen clit, rubbing it. Their eyes focused on each other’s as he rests his chin on her shoulder. He fucks and looks at her so intimately, more intimately than his own wife. Johnny’s thrusts become rougher and sloppier as he feels his end approaching. He had missed her sweet, tight cunt. Leaning forward, he whispers. “You better fucking take my cum and keep it in you while you are with my wife, I want to see it still there when I come into your room tonight. Understand, slut?” Sarah whimpers, fucking herself onto him as she nods.

Your eyes widen and tears immediately fill them as you see the figures through the glass. You had wiped some of the steam off only to see your husband fucking your best friend and your hand shoots up quickly to cover your mouth as you try and muffle the sob that tries to escape. You couldn’t pull your eyes away, no matter how much you wanted to. It was like watching a car wreck, you wanted to look away but no matter what your eyes would not stray. You felt sick, your stomach twisted and your heart broke. They didn’t seem to care that you were in the same room, that you could catch them at any moment. You DID catch them…

Johnny grunts, fucking deep into her soft cunt. He feels his tip twitch and his balls tighten, she felt like heaven to him. “I’m going to cum, babygirl. You gonna be a good girl and obey me?” She nods and he lets go, burying his cock deep inside of her, his cum spurting out and painting her walls white. His head falls back, cock still twitching as cum continues to leak from his tip, his hand still rubbing her clit as she cums around him, squeezing his thick cock with her tight walls. With a groan, he slides out of her and tucks himself away. “Good girl.”

Sarah spins around and smiles, she gets on her tippy toes and places a rough kiss on his lips, as though she was claiming what was hers. His arms wrap around her, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss. Johnny pulls back, smiling down at her with a look not even you had seen. With a wink, he leaves the bathroom and Sarah rushes to fix herself, trying to make it look like nothing happened while you sit broken on the shower floor.

You pull your knees close to your chest as silent sobs slip from your lips and your eyes close. You couldn’t get the image out of your head, them fucking and kissing was engraved into your brain. You don’t want to think about it, but you know deep down that this was probably not the first time, especially with how comfortable and familiar they already seemed with each other. Your throat clenches as the need to throw up hits you, you gulp as you try to stop it.

“Hey! You nearly done? We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late!” Sarah’s voice cuts through the rushing water and the tower of thoughts filling your mind.

“Y–” You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the quiver that attaches itself to your voice. “Yeah!” You reply, not having the strength to say anything else. You watch through the glass as she leaves the bathroom, probably to get dressed or fuck your husband again. The thought causes another wave of tears to fall, how had your life turned upside down so fast? You quickly finish up, not daring to go close to the area they were. You could see there was some cum still on the floor and it had made you feel like throwing up again. You couldn’t bother with makeup at this point, you hurriedly got out of that room and into your bedroom.

You could hear the game on downstairs as well as Johnny’s shouts, so you guessed that he was down there and your supposed best friend was here, in your room… Where you sleep next to your husband, falling asleep to whispered, ‘I love you’s’. The clothes you had picked out for her were already on and showing off an extreme amount of skin. You could’ve sworn those clothes were bigger. “Finally! How do I look?” She turns, hands on her hips.

You had to pull yourself out of your thoughts when she spoke, you could feel yourself slipping. You swallow and nod your head. “...Great.” How were you supposed to act around her now? She was staying for the weekend, and it seemed they probably weren’t going to stop. Was this why Johnny hadn’t slept with you since your wedding? Your eyes widened as you thought back, you hoped your thoughts were wrong, prayed even. “Uh… I might have to cancel for tonight.” You cough, hands falling to your stomach as you put on your well–practiced sick face, you had to play it out that you felt sick. Which wasn’t really a lie… “I think I might’ve come down with something… Or the food I ordered last night might’ve not been so good…”

Sarah pouts. “Well, that sucks.” She looks down at her clothes. “I don’t really want this outfit to go to waste though, do you mind–?” You shake your head, wanting, NEEDING her to leave. If it were any other situation, you would’ve questioned her selfishness and lack of care, but it really just made sense on why she was fucking your husband. Your grip on your towel tightened as you held it closer to you, following her out as she leaves. You didn’t miss the way Johnny looked at her or how she smirked at him. Has it always been like this? Were you really that blind? You quickly utter a bye before hurrying past your husband without sparing him a look.

But you weren’t so lucky. “Aren’t you supposed to be going with her?” He had followed you, watching as you slipped your pyjamas on. You didn’t like him seeing you naked, not that you now knew you weren’t the only one. You hadn’t looked at him once, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I… I felt sick so she went herself.” You chewed on your bottom lip to the point it began to bleed, but before Johnny could see, you sucked your lip into your mouth. You crawled into your bed, suddenly feeling dirty as you peered down at it. Had he brought others into it? Was it tainted like your marriage? You quickly shook off the thought and laid down, curling into the mattress, and pulling the blankets closer to you. You needed to think and cry, you didn’t know what to do. Your life had just been flipped upside down and you had no one else, where would you go if you left him? Have other wives felt this? Had they stayed until they had things sorted or left and figured it out on the way? Johnny nods, shrugging before he leaves. How could he switch up so fast? You didn’t sleep with each other, but he still at least gave you a kiss or made it seem like he cared. Was it all an act until she got here? Or did he care but she had clouded his mind?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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makeyoumine69 · 4 months

Text

Before You Fade (Memory Reboot x3)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After moving to Chicago, you thought you had left your former life behind. But when you receive a mysterious invitation one day, you realize you still have unfinished business in New York.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, penetrative & oral sex, biting, spanking, creampie, masturbating, mild praise kink & degradation, body worship, pet names, dirty talk, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation, cheating.

WORDS: 6.8k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Before You Fade

A/N: Hello everyone! A new chapter is finally here! This story has me in a chokehold! I highly recommend you to read the first chapter and the second one for a better understanding and as always I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

A new city, a new life, new people and new opportunities—all this was supposed to bring some relief, to ignite a new flame in your chest, to set a new goal, to make you forget everything that happened in New York. It was supposed to, but it never did.

After a few months of living in Chicago and working in a prestigious financial corporation, you began to notice that your life now looked like a vicious circle and the days blurred into one long day that never ended. That was probably the price you paid for running away, for being too cowardly to face the truth that what you shared with Bateman was not just a history—it was a goddamn passion and obsession that most people could only dream of. But you, you were not like them. For you, this obsession was like a plague, a disease, and you were sure that Patrick felt the same way. Still, the words he said that day were like scars on your mind. The poor guy really thought that you would stay with him, that you would miss a chance to reboot your life. Since you couldn't reboot the memory, this was the only way out.

Was that it?

The sleek interior of your office greeted you with the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee waiting for you on your desk made by your lovely assistant—a handsome guy named Vincent—he was quite modest but smart and sometimes you even thought you should have asked him out for something more serious than coffee. But then again, the shitty memories kept ruining all those weak impulses to try something new.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and took off your coat, placing it on the nearby hanger and glancing at the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the small coffee table next to the big black couch. These flowers…you bought them for yourself just because you wanted them, not because you felt lonely or…

'Fuck, not again,' you shook your head, not giving yourself a chance to spiral again, knowing how quickly that could happen. Today was the worst day for self-digging, because you were going to present a final plan for a future quarter, and you couldn't fail. Not today, not ever. The moment you finally settled into your favorite armchair, you heard a soft knock at the door. You knew who it was even before you let the guest in.

Vincent, smiling as if he saw the brightest star in the midnight sky, opened the door and entered with cat-like grace. "Are you busy?"

Embarrassed by the man's persistent gaze, you folded your hands and leaned down on the table. "No, not really, I just came," you brought the coffee cup closer and wrapped your elegant fingers around its handle. "…and realized I have the best secretary in the world."

A sonorous chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest. "Oh, you're too kind," the man walked into the office holding a pile of documents. "I brought you some fresh correspondence you might like to see."

"Uh, yes, thank you. Put it here, please."

The brown-haired secretary complied, and soon there was a large white envelope in front of you, next to the documents. There was something odd about having such a large envelope of mail since it was almost the end of the work week, but you just tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of the table in a slightly skeptical manner before turning your attention back to Vincent, who was standing in front of the desk, ready to assist you with anything you might ask.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I think that's about it for now," you answered, staring at the envelope from time to time out of the corners of your ears, sipping the hot drink and letting the warmth flow down your tensed body. "Oh, did you hear that our CEO won't be at the presentation today?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he…has some unfinished business in LA…with a hot blonde chick."

You both laughed in unison, everything was clear as a bell. "Well, that sounds important." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, the Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though you tried not to focus on that little detail that constantly reminded you of Bateman. As if he was the only yuppie to wear such glasses. "Have you…"

As soon as Vincent started to speak, your phone rang—the loud sound even startled you a bit, but you quickly shook yourself and picked up the call, being extremely curious who could be calling you like this. "I'm listening."

"(Y/n)!" Paul Allen's cheerful timbre came from the other end of the line, making you almost jump in your seat.

"P-Paul?" You gave Vincent a worried look, and your nervousness seemed to affect your assistant as well, because he didn't look relaxed anymore. "Did something happen?"

"What? No! Of course not," Allen chuckled, and a female giggle could be heard in the background. "I'm calling to ask when we can see each other in New York…"

A noise grew louder, making it difficult to hear Paul's words, so you had to close one of your ears and furrow your brows in irritation. "Where are you calling from? A brothel? I can't fucking hear a word!"

Such a remark made Vincent laugh a little shyly, but then the man bowed his head and retreated in his professional, polite manner.

"Can you repeat…" You began to speak at the same time as Paul.

"…so when can we meet?"

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes. "Why did you even decide that I would visit New York?"

"Didn't you get the invitation to the wedding?" Paul's question made you feel something heavy in your stomach.

"Wedding? Who's wedding?"

There was a moment of silence that left you so nervous that you didn't even notice a pencil in your hands that was about to break because of how desperately you were squeezing it.

"Halberstram…" another pause, then another female snicker. All of it made you sick. "He's marrying a hardbody named… Cecilia, if I'm not mistaken."

Somehow you felt strangely relieved.

"But it's been several months since I quit, why was I invited?"

"Gee, (y/n)," now it was time for Paul to grumble a bit. "You think a few months are enough to forget you?" He laughed shamelessly into the phone. "Okay, okay, maybe I chose the wrong time to call you. But seriously, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you when you get here."

"Argh, fine," you muttered, finally letting go of the pencil only to grab the annoying envelope. "I'll call you later, today is really a fucked up day for me."

When you heard nothing but women laughing, you just hung up. 'God, it's only ten in the morning and Allen's already having fun. What am I doing wrong with my life?' You vented to yourself, twisting the envelope in your hands as if you were about to open Pandora's box.

With a deft move, you pulled out a postal knife and carefully cut open the envelope to gain access to its contents. Time stood still for you as your hands involuntarily reached for a beautifully decorated card that could definitely be a wedding invitation. After a short exhalation, you opened it and it took you several minutes to process what you had just seen, as you thought you were hallucinating.

The card had the following text:

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Evelyn Arwyn Williams And Patrick Pierce Bateman

Saturday, the twentieth of October nineteen hundred and eighty-seven at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Ziegfeld Ballroom 141 W 54th St New York, NY 10019.”

The card fell from your hands without any resistance. You felt dizzy, even nauseous, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the office and you were literally suffocating.

'How dare…' you cursed to yourself, grabbing the collar of your blouse in a feint attempt to unbutton it from the burning itch on your skin, '…you…fucking bastard!'

Dazed, you stood up faster than you should have, making your head spin and nearly knocking you over if you hadn't leaned on the back of your chair. You need some fresh air or a sip of heavy alcohol or a fucking gram. Something that will take you out of this situation, even if only for a moment.

"Boss?" Vincent's worried voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

Panting, you shot an angry glance at your table, then at your lovely assistant, whose bright eyes were like two glowing beacons. "Vincent, listen," you stammered, unable to find the right words. "Can you please order me a ticket," you closed your eyes for a second, counted to ten and gripped the back of your chair. "…to New York."

"New York? Something wrong?"

"N-no," you managed to laugh off your tension and stop grazing the leather under your fingernails. "It's just… seems like I have some deals to settle in New York, some old ones I thought were closed."

"Only one ticket or…"

"I need a ticket in both directions, of course," you mumbled nervously before taking a coffee and finishing it in one go, thankfully it became less hot. "I won't be there for long," you said as if you were trying to convince yourself, desperately trying. It was only when you met Vincent's eyes that you noticed his sad look and realized that you might have upset him. "Uh, I really wish I could take you with me… but I want someone to look after things here and…"

The dark-haired man smiled sympathetically, and that helped to calm you a little. "Oh, please, don't apologize; it's my job," he said, visibly relaxed, considering his casual pose with his hands in the pockets of his Armani trousers. "I'm just worried about you, I don't want anything bad to happen."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help but grin sincerely. "Ah, Vincent, you're such a sweetheart," you rumbled with undisguised amusement. "Everything will be fine. I promise, you have nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," Vincent pulled himself up and opened the door. "I'll let you know when I have information about your flights."

After that you were left alone again. The muffled din of the city outside the office could be heard faintly whenever you walked past the windows, restlessly making circles around the room.

'Maybe I should just ignore it? Maybe it's just a bad joke and I should call Tim and ask him about it?' You covered your face with your palms before sighing tiredly. Once again, Bateman was forcing you to make strange decisions and you hated it. You hated him, you hated the wedding that hasn't even happened yet, and you hated yourself for being so easily overwhelmed.

No way in hell did you expect to visit New York too soon after you left the city and everything that happened there behind your back the moment you took your seat in an airplane to Chicago. And who would dare to judge you for that? Right, no one but you.

The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, so you had some time to prepare for… for what? Yawning, you stretched your legs in the uncomfortable backseat of the taxi, the driver asking you where you were from and if you had ever been to New York. And at some point you felt sad because you really wanted to say no, you haven't. But you did, and only God knew how hard it had been for you to survive the past months of constant self-digging and dead-end conversations with your vicious subconscious.

Thanks to Vincent, you didn't have to worry about where to stay in New York, as he booked you a luxury suit at the Plaza Hotel. Ah, Vincent…that boy was so sweet that sometimes you could even believe in supernatural beings, as if life was trying to make amends for the unpleasant situation with Bateman.

Sitting on the big bed, you tried your best not to have a panic attack or, even worse, go crazy and empty the minibar, drinking as much as you could as if tomorrow would never come. 'Gosh, I'd sell my soul to see Bateman's face if I came to the wedding being completely drunk.’ With a silly smile on your face, you kept dreaming about some nonsense to distract yourself until the night came and you had to get some sleep before the wedding.

The next day started terribly when some random maid came early and mixed up your suit with someone else's. In the end, you couldn't say that you were rested enough, but you didn't have much time and you still had to come up with an idea for your outfit. 'Should I wear something extravagant or perhaps something more modest?' You spun around in front of the large mirror, the clock was ticking and that sound was really getting on your nerves.

"Uh, to hell with it…" you cursed to yourself and finally picked out a blue Gucci suit that fit your figure perfectly. "I don't want to overshadow the groom."

Winking at your own reflection, you added a few accessories before leaving the Plaza, where a beautiful Cadillac was waiting for you. A driver opened the back door for you, smiled politely, and at some point you even began to think that this day wouldn't be as shitty as it promised to be.

By the time you arrived at the Ziegfeld Ballroom, it was already quite crowded, with many luxury cars lining the street, delivering more and more stylishly dressed guests. With a heavy heart, you held an invitation in your hand and fought the urge to tear it apart and tell the driver to drive away. The sudden appearance of Courtney and Luis in your vision pulled you out of your doubts. 'So that bastard even invited Courtney,' you hummed and slowly opened the door to get out of the car.

All the way to the Ziegfeld Ballroom, you tried to be careful not to bump into anyone you didn't really want to interact with, like Timothy, Craig, David, Paul… Even though you were sure it was going to happen one way or another, you still didn't want to face reality too soon.

Inside the huge hall, you stopped near the long banquet table decorated with white and red roses—the whole style of the wedding screamed Evelyn. Nothing special, though, Bateman probably didn't care about such things as wedding decorations.

Taking a glass of champagne, you moved deeper into the hall and watched the guests split into groups. Still, you were lucky because you didn't see any familiar faces, even Luis and Courtney got lost somewhere among the faceless yuppies and their dates. Everything seemed fine, you had a plan to see the couple get married and then… slip away? It was such a stupid plan, but at least you had one.

Puzzled, you told yourself to leave all thoughts to the latter, when you wouldn't be so vulnerable, staying in the middle of the ballroom and watching the several waitresses bringing more and more appetizers. You were even about to try one of them when you accidentally noticed Tim and Craig coming your way. Trembling, you almost dropped the glass, but somehow you managed to put it on the nearby table, startling a waitress with your erratic behavior, but you didn't care.

As fast as you could, you rushed in a different direction from the group of your former friends, desperately searching for any room you could get into. Your pulse pounded in your eardrums, forcing you to open the first door and enter.

Breathing heavily, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them in a blood-chilling shock as you met a pair of hazel, dark eyes as bewildering as your own.

"You?" Bateman's startled voice bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, his face frozen in a confused grimace as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Me? You invited me, you fool!" You barked back, pulling away from the door and moving toward the brown-haired man. "Have you forgotten already?"

Patrick looked absolutely stunning in his wedding tuxedo, the black bow tie being the cherry on top of his impeccably styled appearance. For a brief moment, Bateman studied your angry expression, his thick eyelashes batting like bird wings.

"It was Evelyn," he replied curly, standing still. "How delusional you must be to think I would invite you?"

Crossing his arms, Patrick smiled, and at first glance he seemed calm, but his slightly trembling lips betrayed him. With a soft chuckle, you moved closer until you noticed a beautiful bride's bouquet—a combination of roses again.

"So did Evelyn get what she wanted? I can see her in every little detail of this wedding. The Ziegfeld Ballroom was her idea too?"

The man sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "No, my mother insisted."

"Oh," you beamed, carefully taking the bouquet in your noticeably shaking hands. "How sweet."

With a quick movement, Patrick snatched the flowers out of your hands and placed them back on the bathroom counter. "I had to walk around with this bouquet like an idiot, because I didn't even see Evelyn all this time!"

Such an outburst made you pause for a moment. "Relax, Bateman," you pretended to cheer him up. "Soon you'll be a family man."

The words forced him to clench his teeth as if they caused him physical pain. "Why did you come here, (y/n)?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

The distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller, melting like ice under the burning sun. You didn't even notice that every time he spoke, you couldn't take your eyes off his plump lips, his perfectly shaped chin that you wanted to touch, the way his eyebrows curled… God, you shouldn't have come here in the first place…

"I'm not gonna play your games anymore," Patrick suddenly blurted out, pulling you out of your lewd dreams. "If you came here just to get on my nerves, I'll tell security to kick you out."

"Woah, woah," you jerked back as Bateman stepped closer, your foreheads almost bumping into each other. "You seem very tense, marriage is a stressful thing, right?"

You continued to back away until you hit the wall behind you, and in the next second, the man caught you between his arms, placing them on either side of your trembling little form.

"Bateman?" You asked him breathlessly.

Frowning, he leaned down. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he just gasped and turned away. "I hate you," those words hurt you more than you could ever imagine. "Do you see these hands?" He asked, raising his hand and bringing it closer to your face. "I could break your neck so easily and watch your dead body fall to the ground."

A creeping fear rippled through your chest as he spoke. "You're kidding, right?" You tried to make a joke out of it, but as he tightened his grip around your throat like an iron ring, a muffled whimper escaped your tense lungs. "Ahh, w-what…"

Instead of actually hurting you, the dark-haired man brought you closer, so that your lips finally collided and the way you kissed was beyond any normalcy of kissing. Growling like a beast, Patrick literally bit into your trembling lips, almost tearing the soft flesh away, his grasp on your neck never loosening, only tightening when you dared to hug his shoulders, snuggling against him.

"Fuck," you cursed as he pulled away to nip at your neck. "You… scared the shit out of me! You psy…"

His hand abruptly covered your mouth, not letting you finish what you were about to say. "You came here because you couldn't forget me, huh? Because you are so fucking miserable in Chicago and no one gives a fuck about you?"

With your eyes shut tight, you whimpered against his palm at the faint physical contact with his hard groin. It was already too much, but then you heard a soft click of the door lock. 'Am I really going to die?' The thought alone made your knees weak. Meanwhile, Bateman was nuzzling against your cheek, inhaling your scent like an animal in rut, and you couldn't do anything, trapped in the strong arms you'd been dreaming about all these months.

The question he asked hung in the air for some time, even after Patrick removed his hand, waiting for your answer, you couldn't speak because… he was right. But to admit it would mean that you had lost. Lost in your own game.

"Why did you run away from me?" The man asked unexpectedly, his whole mood changing from wild to sad, bordering on despair. "Tell me!"

"I thought it would be better for both of us, okay?" You hated yourself for not finding better words, but it was so damn hard to think in a situation like this. "And I still think so."

With a wry grin, the man distanced himself a bit. "And that's why you're here with me… in some random bathroom… in the middle of my wedding?"

It did look familiar. That fleeting moment you gave in to temptation in the Tunnel that changed your life forever and for which you're still paying the price.

"You don't love her, do you?" You didn't even recognize your own voice.

"It's none of your business," Bateman replied before lowering his palm to your hip and squeezing it. "Now get on your knees, I don't have much time."

The audacity of this man was unbearable. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, you stifled a moan from the way he stroked your ass, encouraging you to obey. Biting your lower lip, you remembered how delicious this man tasted—a memory that haunted you every day—you should have resisted, you should have just stopped everything here and now, because there would be no happy ending.

‘I should have, but I can't,’ these six words flashed through your cloudy mind as you slid down the wall to meet the visible bulge in Patrick's tight pants.

"Good, good," he praised, casually unfastening his jacket and then his belt, just as you saw his white suspenders hugging his shoulders so deliciously that you had to hold your breath. "God, if I knew Evelyn was going to give me a wedding present like that, I'd postpone the wedding."

"You're a sick man," you murmured, but he just chuckled. "I hope you know that?"

"So are you.”

There was a small lounge chair in the other corner of the bathroom, and the moment Bateman saw it, you knew what he would do. Smirking mischievously, the man lifted you up with practiced ease and moved you to the chair, sitting down and spreading his toned legs so you could take your place between them. Patrick used all the self-control he had left to undo his pants without actually tearing them apart, his erection jutting out the moment he lowered the confines of his garments.

This scene made you lick your lips with undisguised hunger. Slowly, you leaned down between his wide-open legs and teasingly took his swollen tip into your mouth, then pulled away. "You're going to marry a woman who can't suck you off better than me, aren't you?"

Instead of taunting you back, the man grabbed the back of your head and made you take him deeper until your nose rubbed against his thick pubic hair, but it was still not enough, his cock was too big.

"Ahhh, what's that? Your mouth is too small to take me in?" Bateman commented cheekily as he watched your eyes get wet as you gagged. "You can only use it to say shit, but when it comes to real business…" the man pushed into your mouth again, fixing your head in one place. "…it doesn't seem to be useful."

"Mhmm," you tried to slip out of his grip, but he held you deadly tight. At one point you even wanted to use your teeth, but fortunately a loud commotion from outside attracted Patrick's attention and he let you go. "You…you are so pathetic…" you coughed several times, understanding that your end was near. "Even in a moment like this…you can't keep quiet! Like a fucking chatterbox…"

You wanted to say something else, but the way Bateman's dick pressed against your cheek, the weight of it, the warmth, it was all too overwhelming for both you and him, considering how tense Patrick's face was when you let his erection slide along your jaw as you descended lower to tease his sensitive balls with your tongue.

"Oh-fuck…" The man gasped, tilting his head back to lean against the wall and mumbling something incoherently.

Ashamed of what you were doing, you paused for a second, wondering what consequences awaited the two of you in the future. But all your attempts to stop yourself from falling into the abyss of consuming depravity were mercilessly crushed by reality— Bateman, all spread out for you, his cheeks blushing slightly as he enjoyed the oral pleasure you were giving him. This reality hit too hard. After all, you were enjoying that dick as well.

"So let it happen," you murmured suddenly before you wrapped your wet lips, covered with your saliva and his pre-cum, around his blushing shaft once more, your hands still rubbing his heavy sac. His skin was so soft there that you literally wanted to scream.

"W-what?" The man asked suddenly, as if he had just woken up from the enticing spell. "What are you talking about… are you so cock drunk that your brain can't function?"

At first, dirty talk like that could be really arousing, but now, hearing it for the hundredth time in a row, it was more amusing than hot. Without saying anything, you raised your eyes to him, your sneaky fingers delving deeper between his legs to stroke the rim of his tight muscles. A throaty moan escaped his suddenly dry lips. 'Cock drunk, huh?' You were proud of yourself, having a man like Patrick in a chokehold with your deliberate ministrations.

"Look at you, Bateman, you're such a naughty boy who loves it when someone plays with his ass?" You teased in between heavy gasps, as sucking such a huge cock was quite a challenge. "Does Evelyn even know about this?

Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull at your hair, but you dodged, pressing your finger persistently against his tight asshole before gently probing it, and you could swear to God, if heaven really existed, you wanted Patrick's moans to be music there.

"Uh, you're such a brat, babe," that nickname made you freeze. "This is going to end you one day…" His eyes rolled back into his head as you pushed your finger deeper into him, using a small amount of liquid on it as a lubricant. "(Y/n), you seem to need to bother your hands with something else…" you gave him a questioning look and he grinned in satisfaction, admiring the way his veiny, leaking dick slipped in and out of your lips. "Touch yourself… I know you want to…"

Fucking bastard. Why did he have to say it now? His words involuntarily triggered the memories of the lonely nights you spent in Chicago, masturbating almost every day when you thought of Patrick, telling yourself that he probably did the same. After all, maybe that was true?

As you pulled his cock out of your wet mouth, you quickly undid your belt and then your pants, pulling them down like an obstacle standing between you and mind-blowing pleasure. Locking your eyes with his walnut ones, you got up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend over so you could kiss him. Bateman didn't flinch, kissing you back, tasting himself on your lips and sucking on your tongue as you moaned shamelessly. Afterwards, you slipped a finger into his mouth and he licked it obediently before taking it inside.

"Oh, Patrick," you gasped before sitting down. "Why can't it be like this all the time?"

The brown-haired man smiled, exactly that smile that could make you commit a crime, how charming it was, it made you want to cry here and now.

Silently, Patrick leaned down to take your hand and place it between your legs, then he took your other hand and brought it back to his engorged dick, forcing you to resume your ministrations and from that moment on, you just let yourself go.

Rubbing your most sensitive spot, you whimpered and closed your eyes as you jerked him off, feeling the drops of his warm pre-cum dripping down your palm. Your orgasm was looming somewhere near, but it felt like the pleasure of your own hand was not enough. Bateman, as if he could read your mind, suddenly lifted you up by your shoulders, made you straddle him, and in the next moment you let him impale you on his thick cock, giving you the abundance you thought you had lost forever. A loud shriek echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, a sound that made Patrick grin even more arrogantly as he knew that no one but him could make you feel complete.

He fucking knew it.

Groaning, the man grabbed your hips and set the pace, and at some point you found yourself riding him with pure abandon, literally bouncing on his beefy cock. "A-ahhh, Patrick, yes! Fuck-fuck me, just like that!" You mewled into his ear as he spanked your ass, squeezed your buttocks and spread them. "Mmhm…holy…shit…"

Another slap made you tremble on his lap. "So fucking needy for me," Bateman purred in a husky voice, his hair a mess, you managed to undo his bow tie and several top buttons to stroke his bulging chest. "Argh, you gonna make me cum, babe."

With that, he began to thrust his hips up, meeting yours with a shameless slapping sound. Dumbfounded, you were also so close, but you wanted him to fall first. Passionately rocking back and forth, you wrapped your hands around his neck, catching him off guard.

"You…you missed me just like I missed you…" That was more a statement than a question but the man didn't say anything, he just nodded with his eyes closed as he was completely lost in the embrace of incoming rapture. "SAY IT!" You nearly beat him into his chest. "Say…it…you bastard!"

Your crying compelled him to open his brown eyes which now were so dark, you could draw in them. "Yeah…" Each word was so hard for him to pronounce as his hips began to shake. "…I…I've missed you…too!" Patrick had to hide his face into the crook of your neck and before you knew it, the man bit into your soft flesh to the point of blood.

"A-AWWW, PATRICK!" You whimpered when you felt him exploding inside of you, shooting his hot load and sinking his teeth even deeper, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

"Shhh," the man strived to shush you, licking the fresh wound on your throat. "Just…take it…"

Still trembling, Bateman squeezed your hips so painfully, that you instinctively tried to pull away but he didn't allow you to. Sobbing, you cursed yourself for forgetting how rough he could be or…maybe you simply didn't know about this side of him? By the time Patrick stopped shaking, you were pumped with his seed till the brink, it was pouring out, staining the furniture beneath you, but no one cared. You sat like that for a moment until you began to move again as you still didn't reach your climax. With every buck of your hips against his, you hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but as soon as you reached out to kiss him, the man indifferently pulled away, tapping on your hip.

"Get up," Patrick commanded you, a bit annoyed.

"W-what?"

Bateman didn't repeat, taking you off from his lap before standing up on his feet and zipping his pants. Lost and confused, you sat on the floor, watching him sliding his hair back, opening the faucet and cleaning his face.

What the fuck was that?

"Bateman?" You stammered, finding yourself in the most humiliating position ever.

"You better clean yourself up, too," he commented briefly without looking at you, his voice drenched in venom. "You don't want the guests to think someone brought a hooker here, do you?"

Furrowing your brows, you ran a hand down your tear streaked cheek. "You're going to stop talking to me like that, or…"

"Or what?"

Anger and despair mixed together in a cocktail of pure madness. You wanted to fucking beat this man until he begged for mercy, but unfortunately, it was you sitting on the cold floor with your bare ass, his cum flowing shamelessly between your thighs.

"Fucking scumbag!" You yelled, picking up your shoe to throw it at him, but he quickly moved aside. "You're going to regret this…pathetic…"

Bateman started to say something but was distracted by several female voices. He checked himself in the mirror for the last time and finally spared you with his pitiful look. "You're going to walk around my WEDDING with my SEED inside you. Maybe you should look in the mirror and think about who's really pathetic in this room?"

And then he left.

Being left like that has set your body on fire, your nervous system was on the verge of bursting, but you managed to pull yourself together, gritting your teeth to suppress a loud scream. You felt nauseous, the bite on your neck was bleeding and aching, you were even afraid to touch it. Knowing that the door was now unlocked, you couldn't sit there any longer, so you gathered all the strength you had left to pull yourself up and get dressed. Then you slowly moved to the place where Patrick had been standing moments ago…but it felt like it had been so long ago, as time had stopped. After you cleaned yourself, you were really lucky to find a first aid kit, so you managed to clean your wound as well.

The ceremony had already begun when you finally decided to leave the bathroom. Dazed, you stumbled around like you were drunk. You couldn't remember how you found your way to the main event, where a large altar awaited the newlyweds.

All the guests were in their seats, and you moved stealthily, trying not to attract unwanted attention. The last row of chairs was almost empty, and when you suddenly recognized Timothy Bryce, lonely sitting there, you didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

"Well, well, well," you mused, a little cheered up. "Hello, Bryce."

The dark-haired man almost jumped in his seat when he saw you. "Jesus Christ, (y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Mmhm, Evelyn invited me."

Timothy visibly grew sadder. " Right…she probably tried to invite all the people in New York."

This sudden change in his demeanor confused you. "Tim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The music began to play exactly when you opened your mouth to ask some more curious questions. Soon, the priest and several other people appeared in the alley. They walked up to the altar, everyone around was excited to see the main stars of this event. And as if that were not enough, some women in front of you began to cheer so loudly that you had to cover your ears.

"Stupid bitches." Tim grumbled as he sat back.

"Craig and David…where are they?"

Bryce pointed to other seats that were almost next to the altar. "They're with their chicks and they want the best seats."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, avoiding craning your neck when it wasn't needed because it still hurt. "I see…and I thought they were doing coke without you."

"They did."

"Really? And what about you?"

The man sighed. "No coke is enough to get lost."

Now it was even stranger.

Another loud reaction from the guests signaled that something was starting to happen. You have to stand up a little to see the tall figure moving down the alley—it was Bateman, looking like he was not the one who fucked you in the small bathroom an hour ago. The way he smiled at the guests made you want to puke. Timothy noticed your trepidation and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not paying attention to what was happening near the altar. "You look unhealthy."

"I… I'm fine, it's just… it's very hot in here." You wanted to loosen your collar, but then you remembered the bite, so you had to sit like that.

In a few minutes the music changed and then Evelyn appeared, accompanied by her father who led her to the altar where Patrick was waiting for her. You held your breath and bit the inside of your cheek, but you forced yourself to look at the way Bateman took Evelyn's hands in his, touching them with absolute tenderness. A single drop of sweat trickled down your forehead and you probably intended to chew your cheek until it bled, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered now, nothing could hurt you, you felt like a ghost destined to walk the earth in search of its salvation. Only when the priest said that the newlyweds could kiss now, you turned away and so did Tim.

When the official part of the ceremony was over, Patrick and Evelyn walked out of the room towards an unknown destination, you and Bryce just sat there, not even talking, just sitting, as if you had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some drinks." Timothy suddenly rumbled and stood up as quickly as the idea had occurred to him.

You didn't even have a chance to answer. You closed your eyes and rubbed your face tiredly when you heard a child's voice next to you. Turning sideways, you opened your eyes to see a little girl with a small bag in her hands. "Oh, hi…could you please repeat what I need to do?"

The girl smiled and opened the bag in an inviting gesture. "Pull your hand in and choose your destiny advice!" Giggling, you did as she said. Soon you were unfolding a small piece of paper. "What does it say?" The girl asked with undisguised curiosity.

After you rolled up the paper completely, you could read the text. "Find the courage to face your destiny." You swallowed nervously, on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't like it?" The little girl asked you, her face turning sad as well.

"No! Of course not, thank you very much!" You tried to smile. "You're so sweet, thank you!"

The girl suddenly hugged you. "Please don't be sad!"

And with that, the little child picked up her bag and ran to another person, doing the same thing she did to you. Nervously holding the piece of paper in your sweaty hands, you reread the text until several wet stains appeared on the paper. 'I am such a fool.' Wiping away tears, you heard several footsteps behind you. 'God, what if it's him?'

Excited, you turned to see Tim holding two cocktails. "They don't have anything strong."

You took the drink and watched Bryce sitting next to you. "Thanks Tim."

"No problem," he took a sip before looking at the piece of paper in your hands. "What is this?"

"Uh, nothing, just a childish game." You mumbled and took a sip of your cocktail.

After a minute of total silence, Timothy suddenly rested his arm on the back of his chair. "You know, maybe some coke is not such a bad idea after all," he looked at you, his dull eyes now glinting with a mischievous spark. "And since you're here… do you have any plans?"

"No," you replied frankly. "I… I have no plans, Bryce."

Nodding to himself, the man sat a little closer. "What about you coming to my place?"

Fidgeting in your chair, you wanted to turn to face him, but instead you hissed in pain, how crazy must the man be to leave such a mark? You crumpled the piece of paper in your fist and felt your nails digging into your skin, but still no pain came.

"Why not?" You finally replied, giving Bryce a smile he couldn't ignore as he smiled back.

'When one door closes, another always opens.' Was that what the taxi driver told you yesterday? A quote that had made you cringe in skepticism now played with different colors. But in the end, life was a good thing, even when you thought it was not.

Right?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

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anonymousewrites · 4 months

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Sixteen

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Sixteen: Taking Teruhashi Out (on a Not-Date)

Summary: Makoto (ew) shows up, and Saiki has to take precautions for his own life to not have more trouble. Luckily, he has (Y/N) to help him.

Saiki crossed his arms and contemplated throwing Makoto out the window for the hundredth time since he met him. Saiki had been looking forward to this event all week. (Y/N) had finally come over and was going to show him how to properly make coffee jelly at home, but as soon as they’d gotten set up, Makoto Teruhashi had barged his way in crying about how Teruhashi was angry at him (rightfully so, he was being perverted as usual). He had ruined the entire night, and Saiki’s sanity wasn’t certain it could take much more of Makoto’s rambling.

A single glance at (Y/N)’s weirded-out face confirmed they felt the same way and wanted him gone as soon as possible.

“So, that’s what happened, and Kokomi hasn’t said a word to me since then,” said Makoto, finally finishing.

“Go home, you perv,” said Saiki.

“Please, please, do.” (Y/N) nodded aggressively.

Unfortunately, Makoto ignored them to wallow in his own sadness and decided to talk some more. “To think we’re having a lover’s quarrel—”

“You’re really not,” said (Y/N).

“—I’m in such a pickle,” said Makoto. “Oh, by the way, when I say ‘lovers’ quarrel,’ I mean between Kokomi and me.”

“We wish you didn’t,” sighed (Y/N).

“I’m the only one who can have a lovers’ quarrel with Kokomi,” said Makoto.

“Get to the point so you can get out,” said Saiki.

Makoto leaned forward. (Y/N) leaned back. “Tomorrow my drama will be filming in my neighborhood. A lot of industry people will be there, too. Once they notice Kokomi’s beauty, that’s it. What do you think will happen if they scout her?!”

“Don’t care,” said Saiki.

“She’d be very successful,” said (Y/N), knowing Teruhashi would do very well due to her beauty and people’s love of her.

“Yes! Right after her debut, she’ll be cast as the heroine in a TV drama,” said Makoto. “She’ll be the heroine in plays and movies. She’ll be in many commercials! She’ll even be stealing work from other popular actresses.” He scoffed. “I won’t allow it! Kokomi has no interest in showbiz. So, I’ll give you permission to tell her to avoid the filming location at all costs. But don’t say anything else, four eyes. Don’t even make eye-contact. You can’t even get within ten meters of her!” Makoto glared at Saiki.

“That’s unreasonable for anyone,” said Saiki.

“Well, I’d prefer to tell her myself, but we’re having a lovers’ quarrel, so don’t screw this up.” Makoto rose and left the room.

“I don’t usually dislike people, but he really creeps me out,” said (Y/N), shivering.

“And now he’s gotten me involved,” said Saiki.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’ll tell Kokomi so you don’t have to be more involved,” said (Y/N) brightly.

“Thank you.” Saiki was so grateful to have (Y/N) in his life. They really were incredible.

“My brother came to see you?” said Teruhashi. “Oh, I’m sorry he caused you trouble.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” said Saiki.

“It’s nothing,” lied (Y/N).

“But, uhm, why is Saiki standing all the way over there?” said Teruhashi.

(Y/N) looked behind them where, ten meters away, Saiki stood. “Your brother.”

“What?” said Teruhashi. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry about him.” She smiled sweetly. Stupid big brother! He’s giving Saiki trouble! I have to offer a token of apology. Hmm Ah! She looked up to see (Y/N) and Saiki walking away since they’d given the message. “W-Wait, Saiki, are you free after school today?” That’s right, apology. Saiki, how luck you are to get this opportunity. I have to apologize, so my hands are tied.

Why aren’t you considering (Y/N)? thought Saiki.

“Would you like to…go out for some tea on our way home?” said Teruhashi, looking eagerly at Saiki. “Or go to a neighboring town since they’re filming here?”

(Y/N) felt their heart drop since this was so much like a date, and no other guy in school would even think about saying no. They hoped Saiki would, though. It would hurt if Saiki wanted to date Teruhashi and not them. It really would.

I’ll treat you for a date! Now feel honored! Even though this is only as a token of apology. Teruhashi glanced at (Y/N). And (Y/N), although I like you, you get a lot of attention from Saiki, and it’s my turn as the perfect pretty girl. Now, come on, and say “oh, wow.”

Saiki, about to say no, paused and decided to say something else that would create problems for him, but it would make a point to Teruhashi about her thoughts about (Y/N)—that was one thing he didn’t let slide.

“(Y/N) and I are free this afternoon. We’ll accept your apology.” Saiki turned and walked away.

Teruhashi’s jaw nearly dropped open as Saiki, seemingly (and actually) unperturbed, invited someone else out with him and her when she had given him the chance to be alone with her.

(Y/N) found themself grinning. “See you later, Kokomi!”

“Right, yeah.” Teruhashi raised a hand, still in shock. But he should’ve said, “oh wow…”

“Didn’t want to be alone with her?” asked (Y/N) teasingly.

“If I said no, her followers would’ve hated me. I don’t want that attention,” said Saiki. And, in a more truthful sense, the rudeness would hopefully make Teruhashi stop liking him as much (which, apparently, he’d have to try some more). Also, Saiki got more time with (Y/N). He didn’t mind that.

After school, Teruhashi, Saiki, and (Y/N) ended up at the next town over. Unfortunately for Saiki, attention was coming to their group as everyone watched the perfect pretty girl grace their streets with her mere presence. Additionally, Saiki was dealing with Teruhashi’s fantasies of him saying “Oh, wow” and how she believed he was totally in love with her and freaking out about the chance to be close to her.

Luckily, Saiki had (Y/N) walking alongside him, and Saiki could put up with a lot to spend time with them.

“What’s that guy near her doing?” whispered one guy.

“I bet he’s her funding source,” sneered another.

“I wanna punch him from behind,” said a third.

I don’t want to deal with that, though, thought Saiki.

“Kusuo, Kokomi, do you like sweets?” said (Y/N), saving the day (in Saiki’s mind) yet again. “I saw an ad for a café nearby that looks super good.”

I’ll have some cake with (Y/N) before leaving.

Closed. The café’s sign was turned around to say it was closed.

(Y/N) sighed, disappointed. “I really thought it would be open. Sorry, Kusuo, Kokomi.” They really were sorry. They wanted to have a nice time with Saiki (and Teruhashi), but it hadn’t worked out.

“Well, we can always go over to the shopping district,” suggested Teruhashi, eager to try to get some of her own ideas in to impress Saiki. “We came all this way. Let’s find some good new places. Let’s go!”

Unfortunately for Teruhashi, an hour of walking at her direction passed, but they found zero restaurants. Teruhashi’s glowing smile had fallen into a sickly attempt at one due to exhaustion. (Y/N) was feeling peckish, and Saiki was also losing interest in continuing to follow Teruhashi. That being said, it was fairly fascinating to see everything not work out for Teruhashi.

“E-Excuse me.” A boy nervously stepped forward and blushed. “May I help you with something?”

“We’re looking for a place to get some tea,” said Teruhashi sweetly, her glow returning.

“O-Oh, yeah, sure!” said the boy excitedly.

“Hey, I saw her first!” shouted another.

“I’ll show you the way,” offered another from the crowd.

Never mind. Everything worked out for her.

“The sun is harsh today. Please borrow this parasol,” offered a man.

“Here’s a coupon to the café,” said the first boy again. “I’ll go ahead and reserve a table for you.”

“Wow, thank you,” said Teruhashi, smiling.

“Oh, wow!” said the entire crowd.

“It’s amazing how everything works out for her,” said (Y/N). They laughed. “I need some of that charisma.”

“I think you’re fine the way you are,” said Saiki. Besides, he’d watch out for them. As long as he was around, they’d be alright.

At the café, Teruhashi continued to be surrounded by other men while (Y/N) and Saiki sat across from her eating cake and drinking tea. She was satisfied, though, for now, since she had a whole group of people going “oh, wow!”

Saiki made me totally forget it, but now I remember. I’m a perfect pretty girl! Having recharged her confidence, she turned back towards (Y/N) and Saiki, eager for more “oh, wows.”

Yare yare. Teruhashi really is tough. I’ll just get through this and hurry home with (Y/N). I wonder if they’re done filming.

(Y/N) sighed happily as they finished their tea. This is nice. I’ll have to come back here at some point when there aren’t as many people crowded around. And I should bring Kusuo.

Saiki straightened as he heard Makoto and his director thinking about how they were changing location. They’re coming this way?! He took another bite of his cupcake. I should really do something soon. He took his time savoring the sweets.

“These were delicious, weren’t they, Saiki, (Y/N),” said Teruhashi.

“Yeah, they were super good,” said (Y/N), smiling.

We took our time, but this town is big. Hopefully we won’t run into him.

Nothing worked out for Saiki, though, and due to the ground, Makoto and his assistant decided to stop at that café.

Saiki stood. We better leave quickly.

“Are you ready to go, Kusuo?” said (Y/N).

Saiki stared at them and then out the window. (Y/N) observational skills paid off, and they saw the blue hair of Makoto Teruhashi in the van outside.

“You’re right, it’s time to go,” said (Y/N), standing. “We finished everything, after all.”

“Can we wait a bit?” said Teruhashi. “They want me to shake hands with them, so…” She smiled and let the line form, focusing on being the perfect pretty girl.

“Kusuo, what do we do?” whispered (Y/N).

“I’ll flip the sign.” His psychokinesis flipped the open sign to closed.

They tensed, but the two men walked back to their van instead of walking in.

“We did it,” said (Y/N).

“We should still probably leave in case they return,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) nodded vigorously. “Good idea.”

“6,850 yen, please,” said a waiter.

“Oh, I’m paying!” said Teruhashi, smiling and walking over. “How much is it?”

“Oh, you are? Two hundred yen, I guess,” said the waiter, blushing.

“Oh, that cheap? And I have coupons,” said Teruhashi happily.

“Then it’s twenty yen,” said the waiter.

“I hope I get reborn as a pretty girl in my next life,” said Saiki.

“I think you’re fine the way you are,” teased (Y/N), smiling at Saiki.

“I wonder if they’re done filming,” wondered Teruhashi. “But Saiki, (Y/N), what do you think?”

“We’ll go straight home,” said Saiki.

To support him—since (Y/N) knew at this point Saiki wanted to really go home, so they wouldn’t push his boundaries—(Y/N) nodded. “I should probably get my homework done sooner rather than later.”

Saiki paused, his clairvoyance showing him that the film crew was at the train station. He nearly sighed. It appeared they’d be stuck here a while longer.

Teruhashi perked up, deciding that Saiki must be fighting with his own insecurity about hanging out with her.

(Y/N) tilted their head, understanding they were facing another obstacle.

“Hey, if you’re not in a rush, you and I could hang out some more, Saiki,” said Teruhashi. She smiled. “Even if (Y/N) heads home, you don’t have to go.”

“Well, Kusuo and I were going to do homework together, so I guess I have to wait,” said (Y/N).

Teruhashi deflated slightly. I thought I’d get some alone time with Saiki. It’s almost as if (Y/N) knows to stick around.

They are good at covering for me. Saiki liked that—yet another characteristic in a long list that he liked about them.

“Oh, look, I haven’t been to a place like that for a long time!” said Teruhashi as she led them to an entertainment arcade. “There are so many choices!”

This might actually be a fortunate turn of events in terms of making Teruhashi hate me, thought Saiki.

“A karaoke place, so cool!” said Teruhashi, trying to hint to Saiki. I don’t feel like bowling. I wanna go karaoke.

With that, it was decided.

“Another split? I have no luck today,” laughed (Y/N) as they, once again, had a terrible turn in bowling.

Since Teruhashi didn’t want to, Saiki had absolutely wanted to. This would help get her to lose interest in him.

“Strike!” announced the computer screen after Saiki went.

Teruhashi deflated.

The entire game, Saiki made sure to humiliate (Y/N) and Teruhashi with his “skill” (psychic power). That way, Teruhashi would really lose her feelings for him. It was a little mean, but Saiki was eager to have her stop chasing him around. It caused him trouble. At least (Y/N) wasn’t embarrassed and just laughed at their own lack of bowling ability.

Still, Teruhashi wasn’t done yet, but Saiki was up to every challenge.

When she saw a claw machine with a gorillabbit, he instead won the strawberry stuffed animal and handed it to (Y/N). They turned red and fought to thank him normally, trying to rationalize that Saiki was just trying to frustrate Teruhashi. (Obviously he did it just to annoy Teruhashi, not because he saw them looking at it earlier and thought they’d like it). Teruhashi deflated once more.

When she challenged Saiki to table tennis, he beat her terribly. History repeated itself in darts and video games. Soon, Teruhashi was just sitting on a bench with a blank look on her face, disinterested and disappointed in everything.

Maybe we went a little far. “Is she going to be okay?” said (Y/N), looking at her faraway stare.

“She’ll rebound once someone says ‘oh, wow’ to her,” said Saiki.

“Let’s head home,” sighed Teruhashi.

“Good idea,” said Saiki.

“It is getting late,” said (Y/N).

“I’m exhausted,” sighed a voice behind them on the bench facing the other direction.

(Y/N) and Saiki’s eyes widened, and they whirled.

It was Makoto and part of his team. Because of all the people, Saiki hadn’t differentiated Makoto’s thoughts from anyone else’s, and now they were right there near them and Teruhashi.

“Four eyes?” said Makoto, blinking. “Other one?”

I don’t even get a name?

“Kokomi?!” cried Makoto, seeing his sister walking away. His surprised gaze turned to anger as he assumed Saiki was on a date with Teruhashi (which was bizarre since (Y/N) was also there, but Makoto doesn’t have a good head on his shoulders).

“What’s wrong?” asked his assistant, walking over.

“We have to go,” said Saiki, standing and grabbing (Y/N)’s hand. He pulled them behind him, and they followed quickly.

“Hey, Kokomi, come on!” said (Y/N) brightly, and when she looked confused, Saiki made a drastic move and dragged her along by the hand.

“They held her hand! Get those two!” shouted Makoto, and his people looked around wildly to try to spot them.

I thought he didn’t want her to get attention! thought (Y/N) as Saiki pushed Teruhashi into a photo booth.

“Hey, what—” The flash went off, and Teruhashi blinked before looking back at Saiki. In the haze of light, she drew her hand back. Oh, my! How dare he take my hand and push me into a photo booth. He wants photos of me that badly?! So selfish. And yet…why am I this excited? To know he was willing to be so confident, so forward…wow.

Saiki nearly stared in astonishment as Teruhashi went back to liking him even more, but he just retreated to another photo booth to avoid the search party Makoto had instigated. He and (Y/N) stood silently as the men ran past and the photos flashed in the other booth to keep Teruhashi distracted (and, now, invested in her fantasy that Saiki wanted something to remember her by).

Saiki sighed. “Yare yare. She likes me even more now.”

“I’m sorry, Saiki,” said (Y/N), giving him a half-hearted smile. “But she does seem to really like you.” And although I think I like you for other reasons and am more aware of it, I can understand.

“I should have let you take her hand,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) shrugged. “Everyone makes a mistake.” They smiled and lifted their hands, still holding each other. “And my hand was already taken.” They spoke teasingly, but there was a warmth that, if Saiki knew their thoughts, he’d see as affection above that of friendship.

Saiki looked down at their hands and contemplated it for a moment. Although he was not one for physical touch, he’d initiated this, and now that he was holding (Y/N)’s hand, he found he didn’t want to let go. They were warm, and it was comfortable. Just like talking with them or spending time with them, it felt natural to be this close to (Y/N).

“Do you want to take a photo?” said Saiki.

(Y/N) brightened and looked at him. “How did you know I wanted to?” They knew he couldn’t read their mind with their germandium earrings on (which they would never take off).

He didn’t. He just knew that he suddenly wanted to capture this moment, to remember how nice it was to be with (Y/N), the person he had a crush on. “You mentioned you like having photographs to remember moments to Yumehara while we were Okinawa on the beach.” And I hope you had fun with me, even if I was focused on getting Teruhashi to stop liking me.

(Y/N) smiled. “I’d love to, Kusuo.”

Saiki really liked hearing the word love and his name in the same sentence when it came from (Y/N).

Saiki looked at the photobooth pictures in his hand in his room. Carefully, he placed it on his desk, leaning against his plant, so he could see it clearly. He sat quietly and looked at it with a now-familiar warmth glowing in his chest.

Three photos stared back at him.

One had Saiki looking emotionless as usual while (Y/N) beamed and raised their hands—still entwined—like a superhero in the air.

The second had (Y/N) making half a heart with their pointer and middle finger while Saiki looked at it.

The third has Saiki completing the heart, still no expression, but his gaze was firmly on (Y/N)’s joyful face.

As he looked at the pictures, Saiki smiled.

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