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hyunniesgirl · 9 months

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Hot n Cold

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: enemies(ish) to fwb to ?, smut, angst(a bit?)

Summary: after going from annoying each other to fuck buddies, Minho took your situationship from granted, always having you on his beck and call. So imagine how surprised he is to hear you have a date with someone else?

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact.

Warnings: Minho is possessive, a bit manipulative, kind of a jerk too(he's a walking red flag let's be for real), hair pulling, rough sex(?), unprotected piv(this is fiction please always use protection irl), creampie, bites/hickeys, I think that's all let me know if I missed something.

I had to write this plot because it has given me brain rot since I first thought about it so I just really wanted to take it out of my head ☠️ as always let me say that I'm not very good with smut but I keep trying so I can get better at it, so I hope you guys like it.

You didn't like him, not at all. Minho is a known fuckboy, the guy you shouldn't get involved in anyway. You were always surprised with how many girls fell for his tricks, until you did too.

You didn't mean to fall in love, it actually was the very last thing you wanted to happen. You and Minho were always fighting, bickering, provoking each other, it was natural. You were not friends, more like you were part of the same group, so you were always together and that ended in arguing every time.

You can't remember why you thought it was a good idea to fuck, maybe it was all the pressure and snarky comments your friends kept making, saying there was too much sexual tension between you two.

You didn't hate each other, you just didn't agree with everything. It always started with you saying something, anything, and Minho making some stupid comment with that damn smirk on his face.

Your first reaction was to feel embarrassed, blush rushing to your cheeks as you think of a good answer to give him. After that, you would pick on anything he said, making him roll his eyes every time you opened your mouth.

That was your thing, annoying each other.

One night, after everyone drank themselves to unconsciousness on the floor of your apartment, you decided to take a shower to sober up and go to sleep too.

You thought everyone was sleeping, clearly you were wrong because you bumped into Minho as soon as you opened the bathroom’s door. He was waiting outside, turning around to look at you the moment he heard the door.

He checked you out, staring at you up and down, biting his bottom lip before showing you that pretentious smile of his. That made you hold onto the towel tightly around you, afraid that he could undress you with only his eyes.

“Looking good”, he says, leaning against the wall. His comment makes your whole face hot and you just pray you were not as red as a tomato.

“You are drunk”, you scoff, trying to recompose yourself, walking past him.

He grabs your wrist, forcing you to turn around to bump right into his chest. He's looking down on you and you can't muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, just staring at his chest.

“I'm very much sober”, he tells you, mockery in his tone.

“Okay”, you mumble. Even though you're avoiding his gaze you can feel the intensity of his stare without having to look at him, “can you let go? I want to go to bed”

“Maybe I could keep you company”, he whispers, bending down to reach your height, making you look into his eyes now.

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes.

“Are you sure? I'm very good company”, he whispers in your ear, he has gotten even more close now.

You gulp, feeling the warmth spreading through your whole body, making the tingling sensation grow in your stomach and that's the moment you knew there was no turning back.

You woke up alone in your bed, so exhausted and sore you couldn't lift an arm. Flashbacks from the prior night came rushing in, making you want to scream. What the hell did you do? How would you look at his face now?

You look around to find a tray with orange juice and pancakes on top of your bedside table. You snatch the note that's glued to the tray so fast it's embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm up.

“Enjoy the food. I had fun last night, let's do it again. - Minho”

An involuntary smile creeps in while you read his simple and nothing romantic sentence, you don't know why you felt so flustered and excited, was it because he was handsome? Was it the remaining feeling of a great night? You just thought it would be okay to have this kind of relationship with Minho, just pure carnal desire.

Minho was always very good at setting his boundaries and crossing them too, so good it often made you confused.

Minho would call you at midnight and talk to you till 4 in the morning, fuck classes the other day.

Minho wouldn't spare you a glance for an entire week until you received a text from him, telling you to meet at janitor's closet nearby so you could fuck before class.

Minho would buy you flowers, take you on a date and hold your hand, whispering sweet nothings in your ear after spending another night together.

Minho wouldn't want to go out with you on valentine's day, saying he was busy.

Minho would introduce you to his mom, he would take you to have dinner with his family and his cats.

Minho wouldn't ask you to be his girlfriend even after months, actually, he would often tell you how good it was that you were friends.

You were already tired of this situation, he would give you so many mixed signals, messing with your head. The last straw was when you were at his house and his phone buzzed while he was in the bathroom, you mistook it for yours and grabbed it instinctively to look at the screen, seeing texts from a girl.

You shouldn't feel jealous, you're nothing more than fuck buddies and you're not exclusive, you know you're not. Then why did that feel like a punch on your stomach?

You wanted to fight with him, yell, make a scene, but you had no right doing that. So you just collected your things and left without saying goodbye.

You spend a week avoiding him, every time he wants to come to you, you tell him you are out. Every time he asks you to go to him, you tell him you are busy. You finally decided to let him go and you are just mustering up the courage to tell him that.

You even downloaded a dating app, thinking that you could maybe distract yourself, maybe you could think about anything other than Lee Minho. But every man reminded you of him, how they were not him, how they didn't stand a chance against him.

After talking for a few days with someone new, you agree to go on a date. While you're getting ready, your phone buzzes, taking your attention out of your reflection on the mirror.

Minho: come over

Minho: I miss your face

You: Can't

Minho: what's your excuse today?

Minho: I can go to yours if that's the problem

You: I'm going out soon

You: I have a date tonight

You throw your phone on the bed, not in the mood to engage in conversation with him. You're actually afraid that he'll tell you to go on, because even though you know he doesn't care, it's different to have him sending you off to a date with someone else. You finish getting ready, grabbing your phone and purse, giving yourself a last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in place.

The date goes well, the guy is so fun and respectful. You go to a beautiful restaurant, he opens the car door for you, pulls the chair for you to sit before dinner and pays the bill. He smiles the entire night and compliments you, asking questions about everything: school, family, friends, he just seems very interested in anything related to you.

You enjoy his company, he makes you believe that you will be able to get over Minho, that maybe he can help you with that.

It's after midnight when he leaves you in your apartment, watching as you get inside the building safely. The night was perfect, you just didn't expect to find Minho at your doorstep.

He turns around quickly when he hears your footsteps, looking you up and down and scowling, noticing your blurred lipstick.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, scoffing.

“Yes, I did”, you say, walking to your door to open it so you can go in.

“Did you fuck?” He asks, shamelessly, making your head snap to look at him.

“That's none of your concern”, you whisper yell, trying not to wake up the neighbors but shocked by his bluntness.

“It is, I don't like people touching what's mine”, he says, through gritted teeth.

He's so close you can feel his breath hitting your skin, making you nervous, trying to find your keys inside your purse.

“I'm not fucking yours, we are nothing”, you glare at him when you have the keys in your hands.

“You should tell yourself that while I fuck you stupid, I'm sure the only person on your mind at that moment is me”, he spits, his anger growing.

“Well, I'll not be doing that anymore”, you inform him. Unlocking your door and walking inside.

“What? Why are you acting like this, Y/N?” He says, walking behind you. “Things were going great until now”

“It was great for you”, you say, throwing your purse on the couch, turning around to look at him and crossing your arms. “Being just your booty call is not enough for me anymore, I want more”

Your voice sounds more weak than you meant to in your last sentence, you want to cry. You didn't plan to end things like this, not right now.

You can almost see the gears turning on Minho's head, he's trying to find a way out.

“You told me you didn't want to date”, he accuses you.

“I really didn't want to”, you sigh, “but we've been doing this for months, Minho. It's impossible for me to not feel anything other than just horny”

“Well, I do like you”, he clears his throat, looking anywhere but your face, “I just don't want to date anyone right now”, he completes.

“Then we are done”, you tell him, shrugging and smiling bitterly.

“No, no”, he takes a step closer, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing them. “Don't say that”

He places your hands around his neck, sliding his behind your back, wrapping your waist with his arms. You want to tell him off, want to tell him to go away, that you two are really over, but his scent is just so intoxicating, you can't help but take a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” You manage to say, feeling his lips brushing against yours.

“I'm showing you my affection”, he whispers.

You almost melt into his arms, feeling his lips press against yours. He kisses you deeply, his arms holding you tightly.

Minho starts walking, making you take steps back. He leads you to your room, slowly helping you lie down on your bed.

Minho takes his shirt off, looking down on you and leaning to kiss you again, soft lips pressing lightly on yours, his hands traveling through your body, making you shiver to his touch.

He pulls your dress off of you, looking at your chest.

“Didn't wear a bra?” He smirks, “did you want him to touch your tits? Hm?”, he asks condescendingly, leaning closer to your breasts, licking your hard nipples, making goosebumps rise all over your body. One of his hands slide down on your stomach, reaching your covered pussy.

“Oh?” Minho disconnects his mouth from your chest. “Are you sure you two didn't fuck? Why are you so wet? Did you let him play with you?” He's smiling playfully, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's staring deeply at you, daring you to tell him you wanted your date to fuck you.

“Maybe I should have”, you challenge, he has no right to inquire what you did or didn't do on your date.

“Really?” He scoffs, standing up and you just watch, afraid he'll leave. However, he starts unbuckling his pants. “I guess I've been too nice to you this whole time, y/n. Since you apparently don't know who fucking owns you”

You feel your whole body shudder, you should be mad, not excited about what he said. Then why is there a pool forming on your already wet panties? You never really noticed that Minho was the possessive type, but thinking about it, it was quite strange how he always had his hands on you whenever you were out. Other than holding hands, he often would just wrap his hand around the back of your neck while you walked together, like he wanted to claim you, let people know you were not available.

Minho leans over you again, pulling the soaked piece of fabric down your legs. He grabs your waist, flipping you around effortlessly and positions himself in between your legs, caressing your ass as you get on all fours.

He's not really worried with foreplay since you're plenty wet, he's more preoccupied with putting you in your place. So he drags the head of his cock through your folds, soaking his cock on your arousal before pushing it in.

“Min-Minho”, you gasp at his fast thrust. “Slow down”

“I don't think so”, he bends down a bit, sliding his hand through your back until he reaches your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it all together. “The way you're squeezing my cock, tells me you like it when I treat you like the toy you are”, he tells you, smacking your ass in an unexpected slap.

You shake your head, unable to talk. His cock is reaching everywhere, like he always do. That's the worst part, he always fucks you so well and you always want more.

“Fuck”, you groan when your knees give in but Minho doesn't stop. He forces your legs open, leaning on top of you to keep fucking you from the back. His mouth is so close from your neck now, he starts biting your skin, sucking so hard you're sure you won't be able to cover the hickeys with makeup later. “I'm close”, you cry out when you feel his teeth on your shoulder.

“Tell me you're mine if you want to finish”, he tells you, slowing down his movements. But you shake your head, not giving in that easily. Minho sinks his teeth on your neck once more, sucking and licking the sensitive skin, he knows how much that turns you on even more.

“Come on, babe. I know you want to”, he says one more time but you hold it in, making him huff angrily, changing the pace of his thrusts again to deep strong movements that rip the air out of your lungs, “fucking say it”

You feel the tears brimming and running through your cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of the pending orgasm making your mind hazy.

“I'm yours, I am-”, you struggle to spit the words.

You can feel his smile on your skin while he disconnects his teeth, leaving a kiss on the reddened area.

“Was it that hard?”, he says, sliding his hands to your folds, sinking his fingers on your already full pussy to wet them. Minho brings said fingers to your clit, making circling movements accompanied by your moans, choking on the pleasure.

“Please, please, don't stop”, you cry out feeling the tightening on your lower stomach, the heat spreading to all your body, making you moan loudly when you finally reach your orgasm.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that.”, Minho groans, thrusts getting sloppy. He puts his hand behind your neck, pressing the side of your face to the pillow. “I love seeing your fucked out face while I cum, kitten”

Minho moans, releasing his load inside of you, making you squirm beneath him, feeling his warm shot. With no energy, you just feel him pulling out of you and throwing himself by your side.

When your high starts subsiding it hits you that you're still at the same place as before, so even though you just want to cuddle with him at that moment, you turn your face to look at him and ask.

“What are we now?”

------

A/N: as always, feedback is VERY important to writers, so please leave a comment, reblog or stop by my DM, I love to hear your thoughts on my stories!

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m0llygunn · 11 months

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the alligator and the weirdo (eddie munson x fem!reader)

eddie shares some of his imaginative thoughts that he has during intimate moments

cw: 18+! mature language, smut, oral (f receiving), eddie being an absolute weirdo (affectionate) an: i was reading comments on an ig post months ago and there were so many guys who were talking about the alligator thing so yeah thanks random instagram guys for this idea wc: 2.2k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Wanna hear something that you’ll hate?”

Turning your head, you look at Eddie laying the short distance away from you in the bed. The rubix cube that was keeping him busy has been tossed to the side and he smiles toothily at you, brows wiggling as he awaits your answer. Bad news— abort immediately.

“No,” you answer flatly. You move your book to block his view of you but he quickly tugs it away, tucking it under his arm.

“Well, apple of my eye, love of my life,” he starts, smiling wider than ever. You don't even bother trying to get your book back, you know it's no use. Mawkishly corny, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it and you know whatever he's about to say is going to be awful with the way he's working up to it. He looks up at you, “Today is your lucky day, because I’m going to tell you anyway,” he finishes.

“Is it actually something I’m going to hate?” you sigh.

“Yes,” he smiles, thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand that he continues to hold, keeping it hostage in his grip.

You pause, desperately trying to read him. He doesn’t give much away, just that he’s up to no good.

Unsure and honestly afraid, you tilt your head, “but is it going to piss me off?” you ask, needing a sincere answer.

“You won’t be angry, per se” he replies, voice pitching up with his dramatics.

“Then why would I hate it?” you retort.

He shrugs so boyishly you almost forget to keep up your attitude. “You’re just going to hate it,” he sings matter of factly.

“Eddie,” you whine. He squeezes your hand to his chest, rolling his eyes at you playfully.

Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night, he promised you that. It was supposed to be quiet and chill– you were going to read, and he was going to… do something? Anything that he could do quietly. Obviously, he's changed his mind and has now resorted to teasing you.

“Fine, fine, you got me— I’ll tell you,” he huffs as if you’ve threatened him. Dramatic, dramatic, dramatic.

Speaking of dramatic, you swat him lightly for his antics, smacking your free hand to his chest and he overreacts, throwing his head back into the pillow with a pained howl. His face, scrunched up in faux pain, quickly changes to a desperate plea, eyes wide and brows turning up.

“No! Please, I already said I’d tell you. Please, no need for violence— I’ll tell you!” he rushes out, putting his hands together in a prayer to you. With a shake of your head, disapproving his boisterous behaviour, you hold back your smile by biting your lip.

“I’m going home,” you threaten. With your hand free from his grasp seeing as he has resorted to pleaing prayers, you move to roll over him to get off the bed.

“No, you can’t!” he reacts quickly, grabbing both your wrists and pulling them to his chest, keeping you pulled taut against him. “You can’t go, I haven’t told you yet.”

“So spit it out,” you whine.

“Fine,” he huffs with a played up annoyance. He rolls his eyes and you purse your lips in disbelief. Disbelief for the moment, disbelief for the mood he's in.

“Just sit here, and I’ll tell you, okay?” he smirks, dropping his grasp on your wrists but quickly grabbing your legs, pulling at you until your knees bracket his hips and you’re straddling him. You don't resist, figuring that if it truly is something you hate, you'll have the extra leverage to throw yourself off the bed and book it out of his room.

Shooting him a quick warning look, he finally gets to telling you his oh-so-anticipated thought.

“So,” he begins. “You know when I’m eating you out?”

Blinking your eyes slowly, you resist throwing yourself off the bed already. Definitely not the direction you thought this was going in.

Eddie smiles up at you, waiting for your answer.

“Yes, I think I’m quite familiar with that, thank you,” you respond, keeping your voice purposefully flat.

“Well, you know when I’m eating you out and I’m just doing such a good job that you can’t stay still?”

“Eddie,” you laugh. He raises his brows, awaiting your answer yet again to continue. “Yes. Yes, I am also quite familiar with that.”

“And when you can’t stay still, I hold your hips?”

“Eddie, I swear to god you better spit it out,” you huff, trying to hold back your laugh as you smack a flat palm to his chest again. He grins at you, eyes excited and filled with amusement.

“So, I’m eating you out, holding your hips, and then you’re still squirming around everywhere so I’m like, wrestling you?”

“You’re not wrestling me,” you laugh.

“But I am,” he smiles, raising a brow at you.

“You’re not… you’re just holding me,” you offer abashedly. He shakes his head with verve, and you nod your own head contradictingly. With a small wave of his hand, he continues.

“Well, just wait for the next part,” he smiles. “So I’m wrestling you, and then your legs start closing around my head—”

“Okay.” you interrupt. “I think that’s enough,” you say, feeling your cheeks start to heat up from his brashness. Obviously you know how the whole event goes, you don't need him to break it down for you in a play by play.

“No, I’m finally getting to it!” he laughs, hands squeezing at your hips.

You flash him a forced annoyed glare, prompting him to continue with a lift of your brows. He dips his head in a nod, smirking, and he finally delivers his punchline, words dripped in glee and an air of proudness.

“Whenever your legs start squeezing my head, sometimes I pretend I’m holding open the jaws of an alligator.”

“What?” you scoff, eyes narrowing in confusion. Surely you heard him wrong.

“It’s true,” he nods matter-of-factly. “I imagine a big ol’ alligator trying to clamp my head in it’s jaw, and I’m fighting for my life, trying to hold its mouth open,” he repeats, holding his arms out wide, energetically miming the struggle of keeping an alligator's jaw open.

So you didn't hear him wrong?

That’s what he’s thinking about when he’s giving you head?

Mortifying. Shocking. Not surprising— it is Eddie after all.

He finds your right hand, laying it down flat to his chest, pressing it firmly with both his hands overtop of it. Grounding you to him— nope— making sure you don’t leave is more like it.

“You’re strong, you know that?” he says with wide eyes. “You prance around here, needing me to open jars, and carry your bags, but I swear to god you’re stronger than me. Super-strength,” he says with a wiggle of his brows.

“You… you are so…” You’re at a loss of words. All you can do is shake your head, and feel your mouth go dry as you stare at him, astonished that this is what he decided to tell you. Never in a million years would you have guessed that’s what he’s thinking.

He opens his mouth and it only gets worse. “Sometimes I pretend it’s a bear trap too,” he adds.

“Stop.”

“Or it’s like Excalibur. You know Excalibur don't you? Its like I’m King Arthur and keeping your legs open is like I’m pulling the sword from the stone—”

“Stop,” you say with a more bewildered urgency, pressing your palm to his mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile, crows feet deepening as he looks at you, eyes squinting with his amusement.

He mumbles something under your hand but you can’t make it out— you don’t want to make it out.

“Weird. You’re weird. You’re so weird.” you finally spit out through your shock. He licks your palm and you pull away with a repulsed squeal, wiping the dampness onto his shirt.

“I make you cum, don’t I?” he asks, smug as ever.

“But why are you thinking of that while you’re doing it?” you ask, riddled with mystified shock.

“I don’t know… just kind of thought of it one day and went with it,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of good though– distracts me from blowing my load before I’ve even got it in.”

With heavy blinks, you give yourself a minute to absorb what he’s just told you. Closing your gaping mouth, you swallow back your bafflement. This was supposed to be a relaxing night– not Eddie baring his weird soul night.

“Well… you were right, I hate it.”

“You love it,” he grins.

“Hate it,” you emphasize.

“Oh, but you love me, don’t you?” he retorts with his un-wipeable grin.

“We’re getting divorced.”

“Is this you saying you wanna get married? ‘cause we gotta get married first if you want a divorce,” he smirks, grabbing at your sides, tickling you. Taking his hands in your grasp, you stop him before he can really get started with the tickling, pushing his hands away and returning them to his chest with your so-called ‘super-strength’.

“I’m giving you two choices Munson– you take me home right now, or we stop talking about this,” you say with the best sternness you can muster. Oh to be reading your book peacefully, cuddling in the quietness of the room that was once promised to you.

He doesn't like your ultimatum, you can tell right away with the way his face drops.

“But you were gonna stay the night,” he pouts, purposefully over-jetting out his lower lip.

“Yeah and I want to stay the night,” you respond, tilting your head at him.

“So stay the night,” he nearly whines. Like a punishment, you let him sit in his pout for an extra moment. You could hope that he's thinking over where this all went wrong, but you know he's not. Under all that pout he's still smug as hell, it's in his nature.

“Are you going to keep talking about your weirdo imagination?” you finally break the silence.

“I thought you liked my imagination?” he says, lower lip pushing out even further, trembling slightly as he continues his overdramatic pouting, his eyes round with an innocence that he could never possess.

“I do,” you promise. “But not when it’s working overtime while you're going down on me. I’m not an alligator or a bear trap… or some magical sword and stone— Eddie literally who thinks of that?” you can’t help but smile, shaking your head with a regrettable mirth.

“See, I’m funny. You’re laughing.” Smug.

“You’re weird.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later that night…

His tongue flits back and forth, sending shock waves of pleasure through your system.

“You like that?” he hums against you.

“G-good. Really good,” you reply through huffed breaths. Your stomach tenses, breaths staggering as you feel your impending orgasm approaching.

You stayed the night, no surprise to you or Eddie. One thing led to another, and hours later, your earlier conversation long forgotten, Eddie was between your thighs, racking pleasure throughout your whole body with his tongue on your clit.

His fingers pushed deep inside of you, massage upwards, stroking against your walls, rubbing perfectly at that euphoria inducing spot— you can’t take it, it feels too good, too much.

Your hands, weaved into his hair, resort to an odd combination of pushing him away and pulling him forward. Running from the pleasure but chasing it at the same time.

His lips seal over your clit, sucking, mimicking the throb that trembles through your body. You go ridgid, sliding over your tipping point. Your legs tense, closing inwards as your body gives in to instinct, not having a single thought in your brain at the moment. Every muscle tenses harshly before your spasm begins, limbs shaking and moving all at their own accord.

Hips stuttering, jolting back and forth with your release, a heavy hand closes around your thigh, pinning it to the bed.

“The alligator! She’s back,” Eddie exclaims but you have less than a microbe of steady consciousness to parse his words properly. His fingers continue wiggling inside of you, thumb moving itself to your clit as he continues busying his mouth with his ramblings that you’re too foggy headed to understand. You think for a moment there might have been a pirate impression with an argh, but that can't be right.

A deep, sputtering inhale, your lungs fill, clearing your lust filled brain. His movements slow, and your body relaxes little by little, melding into the mattress until you’re just a puddle of a person.

“And that’s another win for me,” Eddie announces smugly.

“Hm?” you hum, still in a daze.

“I defeated the alligator— yet again.” he says boisterously.

You blink your eyes open to see Eddie smirking from cheek to arousal glistening cheek. At first, what he said doesn’t make sense, but then it all clicks.

An absolute loss of words. You’ve never been so dumbfounded to not have a single word— not even earlier when he first brought up his colorful, unusual thoughts. Never.

Eddie recognizes this because he lets himself fall to your side, pulling you into him, maneuvering you like a rag doll until you're halfways on his chest, face to face, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“You know I’m funny,” he teases, stealing a kiss from you. He pulls back, looking beyond pleased with himself. “You love me,” he sings with a cheesy grin, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Full of mortification and disconcertment, your love for him is undeniable. You love him through and through, and unfortunately that includes his inopportune imagination.

“I’m in love with an absolute weirdo,” you confess.

──────────── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ty for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson oneshot

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starryhyuck · 2 years

Text

closed doors. (m)

pairing: meandom!mark + afab!reader

words: 5k+

summary: when your brother asks if a friend can stay in your spare bedroom, you don’t expect mark lee to show up on your doorstep.

genre: smut

warnings: mark is very mean, reader has slept around, oral sex, messy pussy eating, facefucking, degradation, creampie, squirting

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You agreed to it just a week ago!”

“Yeah, because I thought when you said friend you meant another girl! Not one of your slimy frat boys who plans to bring home a different side piece every night!”

Mark awkwardly clears his throat, each hand carrying two duffle bags. “I can find another place to stay, Jaehyun. It’s no big deal.”

Then, to his surprise, the both of you are quick to turn to him and scream “No!”

“My sister is just being selfish, Mark. Go and unpack your things in the spare room,” Jaehyun says through clenched teeth.

You’re no better — staring down your brother with the nastiest look you could muster. “On the contrary, my brother is the one being selfish by making his sister move in with a random stranger! Go unpack your things, Mark, so I can tell you all the little secrets Jaehyun doesn’t want his frat to know about.”

“Don’t even think about it. You know I have way more dirt on you than you have on me.”

“Really? You want to take that chance?”

Mark clears his throat again, his wrists aching from the weight of his bags.

“So should I go unpack?”

He’s surprised yet again when the siblings turn their heads to glare at him.

“Yes!”

And that’s how Mark Lee became your roommate.

—

When Jaehyun called you last week, he made it seem very simple. He mentioned how one of his friends needed a place to stay temporarily, as their apartment had been flooded and maintenance needed a couple of weeks to repair it. Since Minjeong had just moved out of your second bedroom to be with her boyfriend across town, you didn’t mind loaning the room for the time being to save on rent.

What Jaehyun didn’t tell you, however, was that the apartment that was flooded was actually his fraternity house and his friend who was displaced was actually Mark Lee. Mark was the only one without a significant other to stay with so your brother decided to throw him with you.

Mark didn’t know that much about you since Jaehyun always mentioned you were off-limits. Johnny tried to shoot his shot with you two years ago and it almost ended in a public fist-fight between him and Jaehyun on the fraternity’s front lawn.

Even though you two bickered constantly, Jaehyun hated the idea of his sister being used by one of his friends.

Mark guessed that Jaehyun didn’t know how many guys you actually brought home.

“Oh, sorry!”

It was only a few days into your temporary housing arrangement when Mark came home from class to find you straddling Donghyuck on the living room couch. Donghyuck’s hand was up your skirt and your eyes were a little watery, indicating that Donghyuck had clearly done a number on you before Mark walked in.

“D-Donghyuck?” Mark says in shock, surprised to see one of his best friends here.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans, pausing whatever his hands were doing underneath your skirt. “You’re such a fucking cockblock, Mark.”

Mark pauses at the sound of your whimper. You’re pawing at Donghyuck’s chest, lips pressed against his ear.

“More, Hyuck, please.”

“Um, I’ll come back later,” Mark shuffles awkwardly in the doorway.

“Yeah, you do that,” Donghyuck replies offhandedly, directing his attention back to you.

The last thing Mark hears when he closes his door is one of your pornographic moans.

—

Mark isn’t able to confront Donghyuck about it until they play basketball on the weekend. When he finally spots his fluffy haired friend, he aggressively bumps his shoulder.

“Bro, what the fuck were you doing with Jaehyun’s sister on Tuesday?”

Renjun’s interest peaked from his spot on the bench. He’s not very good at playing basketball, but he always joins regardless to listen to all the gossip Chenle and Donghyuck throw around.

“Jaehyun’s sister?” Renjun clarifies. “Oh, you’re so fucked.”

“Who’s fucking Jaehyun’s sister?” Chenle asks, jogging over once he sees Mark has arrived.

“Everyone calm your asses,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Jaehyun doesn’t know and no one’s going to tell him. And if we’re being completely honest here, I’m not the only guy on her weekday list.”

Mark frowns. The only guy he’s seen you with over this past week has been Donghyuck.

And the menace himself can already sense what’s lingering in Mark’s head. “You know that whenever you play basketball with Chenle, she’s definitely fucking other guys in your apartment, right?” Donghyuck questions.

Mark’s brain temporarily short circuits at the information. That would mean you’re fucking someone right now.

“But Jaehyun-“

“Jaehyun doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to. All her hookups are kept on a hush hush basis,” Donghyuck smirks, cocky at the fact that he gets to fuck you without your brother punching his face in. “And now that you’re her roommate, maybe you can add yourself into the mix.”

Chenle laughs at the idea. “Please. Mark would fuck her and immediately run to Jaehyun out of guilt. There’s no way.”

Mark bashfully scratches the back of his neck, not disagreeing with Chenle’s statement. “Plus, I don’t really see her that way.”

The comment makes all three men chuckle. Donghyuck places a hand on Mark’s shoulder, giving him a serious look.

“Mark, everyone sees her that way.”

—

Mark returns home to see you sitting on the couch, eating some trashy food and watching your favorite reality television show. You look completely exhausted, and Mark wonders if it’s because some other guy just fucked you.

“Hey,” he greets you, slipping his shoes off and throwing his backpack to the ground.

“Hey,” you reply, more interested in whatever’s happening on your show.

Mark awkwardly prepares a bowl of ramen for himself and takes a seat next to you on the couch. You’re wearing nothing but a thin camisole and a pair of sleep shorts, and he tries not to pay too close attention to the leftover cum smearing your thighs.

“What are we watching?” He asks, trying to start up some sort of conversation.

“Some mind numbing show. I need something to distract me since I got bad dick tonight.”

Mark swallows. He wasn’t expecting you to be so direct about it, or even tell him about your escapades when he leaves the apartment.

“Oh?” He tries to level his voice. “Sorry about that.”

You sigh. “It’s whatever. Guys think that just because I’m horny when I’m ovulating, I want to be some sort of cumdump for them.”

He wonders why you’re telling him all of this, but he lets you continue your rant regardless.

“I mean, yes, is it nice to get thrown around and used every once in a while? Sure. But that doesn’t mean you forget about me cumming too!” You groan, and Mark can tell how frustrated you are.

Donghyuck’s evil voice whispers in his ear and Mark can’t help but let the next words slip out of his mouth.

“I can help you if you still need it.”

You pause eating your burger and turn to him. It’s almost like you’re seeing him for the first time, eyes scanning him up and down and checking him out. Mark’s brain suddenly spirals, and he wonders if he’s crossed an invisible line. You’re probably not even into him, and now he has to go apologize to Jaehyun-

“Sure,” you shrug, setting your food down.

His wide eyes watch as you lay yourself down on the couch, shimmying your shorts to your ankles and flinging them across the room. Mark feels like time has completely stopped when he sees the wet patch in your underwear, some other guy’s cum spilling through the fabric.

“Sorry about the mess,” you apologize. “I was too lazy to clean myself up after he left.”

Mark sets his ramen bowl down on the coffee table, unsure of how to approach this situation. He didn’t even think you would agree to his offer.

“He didn’t help clean you up?”

You giggle. “Aw, it’s cute that you think other guys do that.”

He ignores the fact that the tip of his ears are probably blooming red, adjusting the rising stiffness of his cock in his small basketball shorts. He positions himself until he’s face to face with your lace panties, thumb curiously padding over your folds.

“Mm,” you whimper needily, hips bucking themselves upwards. “Don’t tease, Mark.”

He couldn’t help but start sucking you over your underwear, his tongue catching a mix of leftover cum and your wetness. He hears your breathy giggle and your hands tangle through his hair.

“You’re nasty,” you remark. He peers up at you briefly to see your cloudy eyes.

He makes a show of slowly rolling your panties down, cock twitching at the sight of your ruined pussy.

“You’re really swollen,” he comments, fingers pushing your folds apart gently.

You hold back a moan. “Yeah, he did a real number on me. You said you can make me feel better though, can’t you?”

Mark answers by sloppily kissing your cunt, tongue prodding your entrance. His nose presses against your clit and you whine loudly. He doesn’t even need any more guidance from you, delving into your pussy and eating you like a man starved. He starts off by sucking your folds gently, mindful of how the last guy who fucked you probably didn’t prep you at all. When he hears your pitiful moans, however, and your chants of more, more, more, he becomes more desperate.

“Shit,” you gasp. You’ve never had a guy eat you out this good before, and you’re genuinely surprised by how fast you’re reaching your high. “Oh, fuck.”

You panic a little at the familiar tension building in your stomach, and Mark groans when you try to push him away.

“Wait, Mark, I’m going to-“

You collapse into a series of moans when your orgasm hits, your brain turning fuzzy. The only thing you hear is the filthy squelch of your juices and Mark eagerly slurping up your high.

He pulls away and watches as you slowly realize you’ve squirted everywhere. You groan and shut your eyes tightly.

“Sorry about that. It happens sometimes.”

He tilts his head, confused. “Why are you apologizing? That was so fucking hot.”

You giggle and open your eyes again, meeting his lust-filled gaze.

“Really? A lot of guys usually hate it because of how messy it is.”

“They’re idiots.”

You smile, tugging him upwards so you can kiss him. “Maybe you deserve a little treat for making me feel that good,” you whisper, palming him over his shorts.

Mark is about to strip so he can take you on the couch, but stops when he hears a knock at the door.

His body completely freezes when he opens it to see Jaehyun on the other side. The older male raises an eyebrow.

“Dude, did you forget I was coming over to work on our project?”

Before Mark can protest Jaehyun coming in, the man is pushing past him. Mark quickly tries to think of any excuse for why you would be half-naked on the couch, but before he could start frantically explaining himself, he’s surprised to see you’ve somehow located your shorts and slipped them back on. You also knocked over a bottle of water on the couch to make it seem like the remnants of your orgasm was just an accidental spill.

You roll your eyes at the sight of your brother, pushing past him to go into your room.

“Looks like you dragged the trash in, Mark.”

Jaehyun hisses lowly when your bedroom door shuts.

“Devil. I hope she’s not corrupting you.”

Mark swallows, pushing away all thoughts of fucking you to try and get his erection to lower.

“Nope. Definitely not.”

—

Mark avoids you for the next couple of days. The maintenance at the fraternity said the guys could move back in next week, and Mark’s current plan was to avoid you as much as possible until move out day.

He was slightly successful, but also a little hurt since you didn’t seem to care that he was avoiding your presence. You carried on like nothing happened, and Mark saw you walking around campus with a different guy almost every day.

It isn’t until Donghyuck confronts him that he finds out the truth.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Mark’s never seen Donghyuck so frustrated, hair sticking up in different directions and clothing being inside out. Mark innocently continues to dribble the basketball, looking at Chenle for help. His friend stands on the other side of the court, shrugging in response.

“Uh, what are you talking about?”

Donghyuck pushes him aggressively. “You know what I’m talking about! She won’t fuck any of us!”

Mark is more confused than ever and Donghyuck throws his hands up. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Donghyuck murmurs under his breath. “I’m talking about your little roommate! She canceled all of her hookups this week, including me, Jeno, Jaemin, and Yangyang. I want a fucking explanation, Mark, for why I wasn’t able to get good pussy today.”

Mark shrugs. “How am I supposed to know?”

Chenle comes over when he realizes no one’s planning on throwing the ball to him anytime soon. “Hyuck, she probably got a boyfriend. Leave Mark alone.”

“No no no,” Donghyuck chuckles like an evil villain. “She doesn’t do that dating shit. She’s either getting really good dick or Jaehyun found out. So I’m going to ask once again — what the fuck did you do, Mark?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mark puts his hands up innocently. “Otherwise I’d get in trouble too.”

The statement makes Donghyuck and Chenle stop in their tracks.

“No way.”

“You?!”

Mark winces at how loud Donghyuck’s voice can echo.

“You?” Donghyuck repeats in shock. “No way. She canceled on us to fuck you?”

“We haven’t fucked,” Mark clarified. “I just ate her out last week because she wasn’t feeling good and I was going to fuck her until Jaehyun came over. We haven’t done anything since then.”

Donghyuck strokes his chin like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“How did she cum?”

“Huh?”

“Did she pretend to cum? Did you feel her actually cum? Did you use a vibrator? Did you use your fingers?”

Chenle gags. “This is the worst conversation I’ve ever heard.”

Mark awkwardly clears his throat. “I just used my mouth. And she squirted.”

Donghyuck completely freezes and Chenle waves a hand over his face.

“Dude, I think you broke him,” Chenle mutters.

Mark squeaks when Donghyuck suddenly tackles him, the younger boy pinning him down and glaring at him.

“What the fuck?” Mark exclaims, trying to push Donghyuck away from him.

“You’re lying,” Donghyuck growls. “You have to be. There’s no way you made her squirt.”

“What’s the big deal? She said she’s done it before,” Mark says, still failing at getting Donghyuck off of him. He ignores Chenle’s laughs at his predicament.

“Yeah, by herself! No guy’s ever made her squirt before. Trust me, me and Jeno have tried many times. Separately and together.”

Mark ignores the fact that Donghyuck just admitted to having regular threesomes with Jeno.

“But she told me-“

“She lied. So clearly she stopped fucking us to get with you. This is so humiliating for me.”

Mark sees a flash of a camera and Chenle’s giggle.

“And now we have it documented.”

He hears the soft padding of footsteps before Renjun approaches, taking in the sight of Donghyuck pinning Mark down on the floor of the basketball court.

“Um, what did I miss?”

“Oh, Renjun, you won’t believe this but-“

“Zhong Chenle!” Donghyuck finally peels himself away from Mark to chase Chenle around the court, preventing him from telling Renjun about how you rejected Donghyuck for Mark.

Mark’s head is still spinning from the information when he sees Renjun’s head pop into his vision above him.

“You look sick. You should go home, dude.”

—

Mark followed Renjun’s advice and got out of the court as fast as possible. He dismissed Donghyuck’s insistent protests for an explanation on how he made you squirt.

When he arrives home, he’s surprised to see you cooking ramen on the stove. He’s even more surprised to see you wearing nothing but his shirt and a tiny pair of panties peeking out from the bottom. You turn slightly to see him, smiling when he walks through the door.

“Welcome home!”

He tries to ignore how his cock twitches at your words.

“Um, thanks. What are you making?”

He drifts into the kitchen, ignoring the voice in his head that’s telling him to go to his room and lock the door.

“Just some ramen,” you hum. “Wanted a quick snack.”

“Ah,” he nods. “I actually just came back from seeing Donghyuck.”

“Oh?” You say, not sounding surprised in the slightest by the information. “Did he say anything?”

Mark can tell you’re playing a game with him, and he’s not sure if he wants to bite. “He just mentioned how he hasn’t seen you lately.”

You laugh. “I’m sure Donghyuck was more colorful than that. He isn’t exactly careful with his words.”

Mark nervously swallows. “Well, he said that you haven’t really seen anyone since last week.”

You hum. “Interesting. I wonder why that is.”

You shoot him a small smile, and Mark recognizes the mischievous glint in your eye. You reach for some spices on the top shelf of your cabinet, and he gets an eyeful of your ass.

You gasp when you feel Mark press against your back, and you watch as he turns off the stove.

“Why are you teasing me?” He breathily asks in your ear, fingers gripping your hips tightly.

“Am I?”

He can hear the smirk in your voice. “How did you get my shirt, you little minx?”

You giggle, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your core.

“I did a little snooping in your room. You’re such a slob,” you say, remembering all the stray chip bags and old t-shirts Mark has lying around.

“Sorry,” he apologizes as he cups your mound, and he groans when he feels how wet you are. “This is supposed to be a temporary thing, remember? I don’t exactly have to keep everything in tip top shape.”

Your folds are practically spilling out of your underwear. “Don’t you think these panties are too small for you?” He asks, rubbing your clit gently. You whimper and buck your hips up into his hand. “It’s no better than not wearing them at all.”

“I thought you liked seeing my pussy,” you hum, leaning back on him. “You sure liked it when you ate me out last week.”

Mark is quick to move your underwear to the side, inserting a finger into your cunt without warning. You moan loudly and grip onto his arms.

“About that, Donghyuck told me something interesting,” he mentions, focusing on how tight you feel around his finger. “He said no guy’s ever made you squirt before.”

You’re pretty desperate for him at this point, so you barely register what he’s saying in favor of trying to get him to push more of his fingers into you.

“Uh huh.”

He chuckles and the sound shoots straight to your core. He grants your wish and pushes two more fingers into your weeping hole, basking in how he stretches you open. Your mind turns into mush once he starts pumping them in and out of you, scissoring and rubbing against your sweet spot. You wonder how he’s managed to learn your body so quickly.

“It really grabbed my attention when he said that because I was under the impression that someone’s done that to you before.”

Your whimpers turn into cries when his thumb starts to circle your clit, and you struggle to respond to him.

“J-Just my fingers. Not a-anyone else,” you mindlessly say.

“You’re so fucking desperate,” Mark hisses meanly, nipping at your ear. He has to admit that his conversation with Donghyuck has given him a major ego boost. “So what? You fuck every guy on campus to try and get close to the pleasure I gave you? But they’re not me, are they? That’s why you stopped going to them.”

“Mark,” you cry when he removes himself from you, slapping your ass roughly.

“Get on the counter.”

You quickly obey, legs wobbling slightly as you prop yourself up on the kitchen counter. Mark is fast to drop to his knees, spreading your legs apart and diving into your cunt.

“Fuck,” you whimper when you feel Mark’s tongue lapping at your wetness.

He keeps his eyes on you when he sucks your clit, slipping two fingers in your entrance. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your whole upper half collapsing on top of the island.

Mark’s gaze follows you, learning what you like and what your body really reacts to. Every time he curls his fingers upwards, you shake a little and your moans grow louder.

“S-Shit,” you gasp, struggling to breathe. “How are you so fucking good at this?”

That tension is building in your stomach again, even faster than the first time. You can tell Mark is expecting it, opening his mouth wider and sucking you harder. He revels in the sound of your loud cries, begging him for more and desperately asking to cum.

“Please, please, please-“ you plead, pushing Mark deeper into your cunt.

He pulls back briefly to direct you. “Squirt for me, baby. Show me how I’m better than everyone else.”

When he grazes your clit with his teeth, you fall off the edge. Mark eagerly fingers you while your juices spill on the kitchen floor, his cock straining in his shorts.

Before you can regain your senses, you find yourself being turned around, and your feet hit the kitchen tile.

“Mmf,” you mumble blearily, your vision blurry.

He shushes you, hands exploring your ass as he pulls your underwear down. “It’s alright, baby. I got you.” You feel the tip of his cock prod your entrance and you whimper, pushing yourself back on him subconsciously.

“Please- I want-“

“I know, I know,” Mark assures you, voice sounding slightly smug. “You want my cock, don’t you? Dripping for it, acting like a whore just to get it.”

Your cheek presses against the counter, mind empty and thinking of nothing but Mark’s cock. When he finally eases himself into your cunt, you swear you see heaven.

“Shit, baby, you’re soaking. Makes it so easy for me to slide in,” he mumbles, watching as he easily disappears into you.

“M-More, more-“ you plead, reaching behind yourself in an attempt to get him to bottom out.

When he finally does, he’s laughing condescendingly in your ear. He brushes your hair away from your face when he thrusts in the first time so he can see how you fall apart.

“You’re so fucking easy,” he snickers, and you’re amazed by how you unlocked such an evil side to Mark Lee. “No wonder all the guys pass you around like a new toy.”

It’s embarrassing how fast you reach your second orgasm. You scream and shudder when your body snaps. He shows no signs of stopping either, railing you through your high. You reach the point where you can’t tell if you’re begging him to stop or to fuck you until you pass out.

And Mark has no idea where this burst of confidence comes from, but he finds himself pulling out of you and tucking himself back into his shorts.

“What-“ you whisper, suddenly feeling empty. “Where are you going?”

“Clearly, a brat like you only cares about her own pleasure. I guess I should find someone else to take care of me.”

You begin to panic even though Mark has no intentions of actually leaving. “Wait- Wait, no-“ you desperately cry, legs shaking as you try to stop him. You immediately sink to your knees, hands gripping his thighs. “I can take care of you.”

Mark scoffs, eyes challenging you. “I doubt it. Look at yourself — kneeling in a puddle of your own filth, thinking you can suck my cock and be decently good at it. I’m not like Donghyuck, you know. I don’t cum easily.”

“I don’t want Donghyuck,” you sob in despair. If he’s surprised by the sudden tears running down your face, he makes no show of it. “I want you! Please, I’m sorry I was so selfish. I won’t be like that ever again.”

He runs a finger down your face before cupping your cheeks harshly.

“Then tell me I’m the only one who gets to fuck you from now on. No one else.”

You don’t skip a beat. “Just you. I’ll only fuck you from now on, I promise.”

“Show me.”

You quickly take his cock out, angrily red and leaking from the tip. You gasp when Mark grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs cruelly. You get the message, opening your mouth wide and loosening your jaw.

He has absolutely no mercy on you, shoving his cock far down your throat. He ignores your gagging, saliva dripping from the sides of your lips. He begins a brutal pace in face fucking you, his cock consistently hitting the back of your windpipe.

Venom drips from his voice. “I want you like this from now on. Ready on your knees as soon as I walk through that door. Understood?”

You try to nod but it only comes out as a mix of garbles and choked noises. He finally grants you mercy and allows you to breathe for a few seconds.

You wheeze, coughing and sputtering. Mark decides it’s enough recovery time for you, however, pushing you up against one of the kitchen cabinets on the floor. He completely folds you in half, throwing your legs over his shoulders and lining himself up to your entrance once more.

“Beg for it.”

“Please fuck me!” You cry, not caring how pathetic you sound. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be a good girl. Please!”

“And?” He says, leaning closer to you with a waiting gaze.

“And you’re the only one I’ll be with from now on! I promise!”

Mark ignores that his knees are soaked in your juices from earlier and that he’ll probably get bruises from the kitchen tile. He fucks you at a brutal pace, slamming your head into the wooden cabinets over and over at the force of his thrusts. Your neck aches but he makes you watch him pound into you, his cock abusing your pussy as he likes.

“If you’re nice, I’ll let you cum again,” he hisses, balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “If I think you’re being a brat again, I’ll make you lick your cum off the floor.”

“G-Good, I’m g-g-good,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “Good girl!”

He chuckles. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He leans over you and you take the hint, opening your mouth and allowing him to spit on your tongue. You swallow eagerly, showing him how you obey him.

“You’re such a perfect little doll, aren’t you?” He snickers, your wetness starting to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock. You can’t tell if he wants you to answer, but you’re too fucked out to reply anyways. “When Jaehyun told me to come live with his sister for a few weeks, I never thought you’d be such a campus whore. He always talked about you like no one’s ever even allowed to speak to you. Guess he’ll never know how most of his friends have already spitroasted you, huh?”

“I-I need-“ you whimper, failing to come up with what you want to say.

“Aw, baby wants to come?”

You nod, hoping he’ll grant you permission. He smiles as he stares at you, fully cockdrunk and wanting more. He knows he has you in the palm of his hand now.

“Go ahead.”

When he feels you tighten around him, Mark goes with you, ropes of his cum shooting deep into your cunt. There’s so much of it that it spills out of your folds.

When you come down from your high, you pay no attention to the searing pain in your neck. You look up at Mark with wide eyes.

“Are we together now?”

He still feels a little mean, so he pushes you a little more. “Donghyuck said you don’t do the dating shit.”

“B-But I want to be with you,” you say softly, looking like you’re going to cry again if Mark rejects you.

He takes pity on you, lifting up your chin and kissing you gently.

“Alright. But you have to protect me from Jaehyun.”

You giggle and nod.

—

When the frat house is finally repaired, you show up to help Mark move in, hand intertwined with his. Every single fraternity member stops at the sight of you in the doorway, jaws open.

“You’re so fucked,” Johnny laughs, getting out his phone to film Jaehyun’s reaction.

Your brother comes into sight, carrying one of the moving boxes in his hands. He immediately drops it at the sight of you two, his eyes locked in on your joined hands.

“You look like trash,” you laugh at the sight of Jaehyun’s hair sticking up in multiple directions.

Mark swallows when Jaehyun angrily stomps over to the two of you. Mark internally prepares himself to get his ass beaten by Jaehyun, but he’s shocked when instead of fighting him, Jaehyun drops a hand to Mark’s shoulder, frowning.

“I’m so sorry, Mark. You’re one of the good ones and I failed to save you from the pits of hell. Instead, I led you directly into her arms and for that, I’ll be eternally apologetic.”

“Oh, you stupid fucker!” You scream, grabbing your sibling by the ear and pulling him outside.

Mark watches as you and Jaehyun throw hands on the front lawn, spitting insults at each other. Johnny comes up next to him and sighs.

“You’re such a lucky bastard.”

#nct smut #mark #mark lee #mark smut #mark lee smut

4K notes · View notes

wolfiesmoon · 9 months

Text

What a fate

Ran x good girl! reader

this is a part 2 to my fic "i can't sleep", dont worry i'm feeding ur families they will no longer starve. apparently people are really into ran considering how many notes that fic of mine got (and who can blame them honestly)

unrelated but i cant believe it took me this long to get into housewife radio by ghost i love the horror vibes because of course i do

You've had a turbulent few days recently. Ever since you agreed to do that stupid dare Ran hasn't left you alone.

He did promise to do so but you didn't think he was actually serious about "making you his". How could you let this happen?

Things turned out completely opposite to what you expected, though. Instead of dragging you to his gang meeting to beat the crap out of you, he's taking you there to threaten his lackeys that if they even so much as lay a finger on his girl (you), they'd feel hell on earth.

You suppose that it's nice that he wants to protect you but you feel extremely out of place and uncomfortable at a gang meeting of all places.

Your parents think you're studying at a library right now. Somehow, you feel like you're commiting a crime.

You also met his brother at that meeting.

It seems being a good-for-nothing delinquent runs in their family. You feel sorry for their parents. If they even have them.

"Wow, I would've never thought the nerd would be your type." Rindou teased Ran. Actually, maybe it was both of you he was teasing.

"She's the one that kissed me first." Ran smirked at you.

"You're the worst. Both of you." you furrowed your brows, not finding either of them amusing in the slightest.

"Your girlfriend hates you, man. Personally I would not put up with that." Rindou seemed disinterested, checking his nails as he said that.

"I am not his girlfriend, either!" you defended yourself but Ran just looked at you like he pitied you and Rindou looked like he didn't believe you.

"Right, okay, if you say so. You two have your lover's quarrel on your own. I'm going elsewhere." Rindou just casually left, leaving you all alone with Ran in an abandoned storage unit. Oh boy.

"Umm, I should get going- ack!" you felt your wrist getting grabbed, preventing you from leaving. There's your only exit up in smoke.

"Leaving so soon? But we haven't even had our fun yet." Ran smiled at you and you honestly felt scared at that moment. Oh no, you shouldn't have yelled back at him so daringly just now. Now he's going to beat the crap out of you and drop you off in front of your parents doorstep as a warning to never mess with his gang again.

He leaned in closer and you braced yourself for the pain, but instead of that you felt his lips on yours.

Kissing...?! Again?! Well, atleast it's better than a punch to the face... You can't believe it's come to a point where you're glad to get kissed by Ran.

But still, does he have to kiss you in the least romantic place possible? Even if you did have feelings for him you'd totally find this moment cringy.

"You suck at kissing." He comments heartily, pulling away.

"I'm not the one who kisses a new girl every day. Maybe I actually have some self-respect." You crossed your arms. He was your first kiss after all.

"Every night is an exaggeration. It's like, every week." You couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious, even if you saw his expression.

"Oh, wow. Glad to know that I'll get cheated on in about 3 days. Way to make your 'girlfriend' hate you less."

"I'll stop for you." He smiled.

"Uh huh, whatever." You rolled your eyes.

Though, his kisses are actually kind of making you.... No, no! Don't fall for that! You can't believe you almost admitted that you'd fall for him if he kissed you more.

"How's it going with your new boyfriend, girl?"

"God, do not call him that." You held your forehead in frustration.

"I think he's taken a liking to you." Your friend nudged you, pointing at Ran who was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria and smiling at you as he ate.

"Great." You said sarcastically, immediately looking away when your eyes met.

"See? It ended up well. Now you have a hot bad boy boyfriend." Your friend kinda wished she'd done it instead of daring you.

"Didn't I just... ugh! I don't think my parents would agree with you." You placed your forehead on the table, groaning. "You date him if you want a bad boy so bad. But I hate you for dragging me into this." Your voice was slightly muffled.

"Yeah, we'll see. You'll be the happiest couple ever in like, two months."

You raised your head, looking back at Ran once again. You're in quite the pickle, aren't you? The next thing you know, you'll fall for Haitani Ran.

How scarily exciting.

"Hop on." Ran stopped on his bike in front of the library. How he knew you had a study session there today? Don't worry about the details.

Another motorcycle ride... You feel like you barely survived the last one.

"My parents expect me to be home in 10 minutes." You crossed your arms. You weren't lying, either.

"Who cares? Live a little." Ran rolled his eyes playfully. Clearly he isn't going to let you back down.

"I'll do it, but only if you keep it to ten minutes." He was right, backing down isn't your thing. You wonder how much resisting him you could get away with if you weren't special to him.

Special to him... huh.

"Killjoy." He insulted you lightly as you sat down in front of him. Again, neither of you are wearing a helmet. This is the last time you'll let it slide.

"I prefer to not get scolded endlessly." You held onto him tightly because you knew what was coming and didn't want to almost fall off the bike again. He felt proud when you held onto him like that.

Like you're finally his. To be honest, he didn't really care much for you until you kissed him out of nowhere like that. How bold of you, the top-of-the-class rule stickler. But he likes that. And that's why he decided to make you his.

Isn't the fact that he lets you ride on his motorcycle enough to see that?

You felt the wind blowing against your face as you set off. Now that you feel it again, it doesnt feel too bad. It's kind of nice, actually. And Ran is warm, too.

The scenery moves past the two of you and strangely, you feel really calm and at peace. It feels like your parents don't exist in this moment and that you can just... live, and feel the adrenaline of the high speed.

This is so scarily exciting.

"You look relaxed." He said, looking down at you.

"I am. And look at the road, will you?" You scolded him but your voice was still relaxed. You look up at him again.

He actually isn't that bad looking. You kind of understand why some girls would fall for him. You, on the other hand...

Are unfortunately befalling the same fate.

He didn't say anything but you had a feeling he knew you were staring.

"You look like you're in love."

"What?! How would you even know?!" You looked back at the road, hiding your face from him. You can't help but get defensive of such a thing.

God, you hate that he's right.

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sylusjinwoon · 6 months

Text

{ 132 }

crush, crush, crush.

megumi fushiguro x fem.reader

no curses | college au.

{ and i'm like, yeah | everything you heard is true | everybody knows i'm hung up on you. }

much like half of the female population of students that attended this university, you had a crush on megumi fushiguro.

something about him was just so appealing to you (and many others). from his deep, emerald green eyes to the way his spiked hair fell across his pale face.

his full lips were often seen set in a permanent scowl, indicating his absolute disdain for something-

and his deep voice was painted in nonchalant tones, as if nothing in the world could ever bother him-

but it was enough to fuel your desire to get closer to him.

being somewhat of a smart cookie, you ended up sharing quite a few classes with the enigmatic megumi. from ethics to advanced calculus, you were honestly just happy enough to be in his presence.

because you knew that the chances of megumi returning your feelings were slim to none, that didn't stop you from doing something a little silly (and quite stupid, really) to get closer to him.

in your advanced calculus class, you purposely failed a sequence of pop quizzes, each and every one of them serving to be like a test drive before the real deal: the first exam worth nearly 20% of your final grade.

your professor, feeling exasperated on your depressingly low averages, finally decided to enlist the help of the student who consistently scored a 100% on every assignment and pop quiz-

megumi.

she calls you to the front of her desk while stopping megumi from leaving the classroom. megumi's eyes were furrowed in confusion, and you did your best to put on a sad face, jutting your lips out in a disappointed pout and all.

"fushiguro, you're one of the best students in my class- actually, you're the only one who has ever had consistently high scores on my homework and quizzes."

your professor gestures over to you, all while saying your name with a disappointed sigh. "she needs your help. her scores have been embarrassingly low, and i'm afraid if this continues, she will not have a chance to pass this class and may need a retake. so please, when it's still early in the semester, can you help her?"

you take this chance to meet with megumi's gaze, seeing them flash with an unknown emotion for a brief moment before returning back to his blank, emotionless gaze. he places a hand within the pocket of his jeans, looking away from you to see each one of your written quizzes spread out against your professor's desk.

you had to fight back the heat against your cheek when his bored, emerald gaze looked at the 0's written in a deep red ink, the anger and disappointment your teacher felt for you seeming to create a harsh dent, with each bold x seen scattered across the problems on the papers, nearly ripping through each sheet.

"so, as you can see, i don't wish for this student to be a hopeless case. if things go well, the highest grade she can make is a 70. but... i'll allow it if you can help her."

without another word needing to be spoken, megumi gives the professor a stiff nod before collecting your quizzes together in a single, neat stack. he meets with your gaze and says a simple "follow me." before walking out of the classroom.

and despite how you could feel your heart pounding from within your chest, you kept your cool and followed megumi from close behind. you continue to walk in silence for several seconds when he turns around to face you, seeing you standing behind him while letting out a sound of annoyance.

"don't walk behind me like i'm better than you." he gently grabs a hold of your wrist so that you were now walking right next to him. "i hate that shit. we're in the same year, so act like it."

the way your heart suddenly jumped into your throat was enough to make you feel dizzy, and the fact that megumi didn't show any hints of letting you go made it all the more overwhelming for you.

with his hand loosely gripping at your wrist, he leads you to your university's library, the silence was once deafening as you thought that your ears were close to ringing-

but the moment several students laid eyes on megumi holding your hand, you felt all eyes turn on you. their studying all but forgotten as whispers and giggles were heard throughout. seemingly unbothered by the sudden change, he keeps holding on to your wrist before going towards one of the hallways that held several study rooms. the first empty room he finds, he enters it while shutting the door.

in the middle of the room was a large, square table with four seats surrounding it. megumi takes an extra seat and settles it on the same side as him, silently gesturing at you to sit to his left. you nod and heed his words, feeling somewhat shy as you took out a fresh notebook along with some pencils and pens from your backpack.

megumi settles himself beside you and takes out his notebook. as you trail your eyes over those meticulous pages, you saw just how much care and detail he put within them, the black ink seeming to bleed through each page as evidence of his dedication.

he takes one of your quizzes and points to each concept you missed within his notes, and you found yourself following along quite well. you end up completely correcting your errors within 20 minutes, and was simply basking in megumi's presence when a deep chuckle was heard.

"heh, i knew you were suspicious..." megumi had placed his lips against the shell of your ear, tone dripping with an uncharacteristic amusement. the feeling of his hot breath against your ear was enough to make you shiver in response, your wary gaze meeting with his.

"ah... i... don't know what you mean?"

he gives you a scoff, telling you that he didn't believe your bluff for a single minute while shutting his notebook. "you know, professor irie has told me to tutor some of her other students in different classes several times. and i can't tell you how we often spent two hours working on a single problem."

"yet you... you corrected each and every one of your mistakes, redoing all 10 problems and giving me the correct answer within a mere 20 minutes."

you were frozen, eyes going wide, as if you were a deer caught in headlights. a smirk was seen gracing megumi's handsome features when you could feel his large hand against your back, pushing you forward so that you could see your past quizzes. he spreads out each and every one of the pages that averaged a 0, taking his signature black pen as he filled them all in with 100's.

"it takes a different type of genius to purposely choose wrong answers, so tell me... why?"

you begin to blush profusely, unable to meet his gaze as you felt your heart pounding faster with anxiety, nearly coming out of your ribcage. you lost all nerve, unable to even look at him when you shakily manage to tell him.

"i-i think you know why."

"i do, but i'd much rather hear it from you."

you could feel his gentle hands rubbing against your cheek, making you sigh as you relented.

"i-i did it so that i could be closer to you...because i know that you wouldn't notice me otherwise."

"and who says i didn't notice you?"

you gasp upon feeling megumi take a hold of your chin, forcing you to face him as his eyes were shining with a look akin to... adoration for you. he allows the pad of his thumb to trace at your bottom lip before admitting to you, "i've seen the truth of your studious nature and your hard work. and those glances you've been sneaking at me when you thought i wasn't looking... so how could i possibly ignore your presence so easily?"

you watch when he slowly narrows his gaze, suddenly inching himself closer to you as you could taste his breath against your lips, giving you little choice but to cave in to your feelings for him as you met with him halfway.

and as his lips perfectly slot themselves against yours in a perfect kiss, you found yourself sighing, thinking to yourself that failing a few quizzes was completely worth it in the end.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x you #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro imagine #.stories

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bloatedandalone04 · 5 months

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Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 1.5

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which anakin and the guys are granted a break, but that still didn’t give him any hope that he could actually fix things between you and him - but that also didn’t stop him from trying.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.2k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4.6K FOLLOWERS

Anakin was sitting quietly on the couch as he half listened to Theo and Helena talk at the table on the bus.

They had been discussing something in hushed whispers for a while now, but Anakin still had no idea what they were talking about. He couldn’t focus on anything right now as he scrolled through the text thread he has with you, his expression one of misery and agony.

He knew you were back in LA by now. You had to be. You were probably packing your things as he sits and lets his eyes flicker between his bandmate and manager.

Anakin had left you so many messages by now, and you haven’t replied to a single one. He felt pathetic and worthless, and he hated himself.

He dropped his phone with a huff, instead deciding to trace his index finger along your handwriting on his wrist. It can’t be over between the two of you. It just couldn’t be. You were everything to him, his entire world. How was he supposed to do this without you?

“Helena, please, just a few weeks,” Theo begged, and Helena sighed as she rubbed her forehead harshly. “My sister just told me that our mom is getting worse. I can’t let her go through that by herself anymore. I can’t not be there for them anymore. Please.”

Anakin’s mood deteriorated further at his friend’s pleas, and he wished there was something he could do for Theo, but he can’t even fix his own mess. “I know, Theo, I know,” Helena mumbled, standing up and rummaging around in her bag. “I’ve been trying to get this thing pushed back ever since you know who decided to touch broody over there.”

The not so subtle dig had Anakin rolling his eyes and picking at the threads on the blanket he threw over his lap. “Well, can you?” Theo asked desperately. “Get it pushed back? Just a few weeks. I need to be there if my mom-” he cut himself off as he refused to say it out loud.

Anakin felt tears prick at his eyes as he stared at the floor. His heart ached for Theo, and it ached even worse for you. How had things gotten this bad? Just to make things that much more tragic, it seems like Clara and Vinny’s relationship was on its way out, too. She had left last night on a flight back home, and Vinny hasn’t been out of bed ever since.

Seriously, how the fuck had things gotten this bad?

Helena looked at Theo with poorly concealed pity, and she sighed as she ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, Liz’s contract will end soon, and I think I’ll be able to get the next few weeks pushed back, so she won’t be welcomed back on the tour once things go back to normal,” she started, sitting back down at the table and looking between Theo and Anakin. “So that might help fix his problem.”

She gestured over to Anakin, and he just scoffed, wondering why she was talking about him like he wasn’t sitting less than three feet from her.

“I think I can have all of you on flights back home by the end of the week, I just need to make a few calls,” she stated and Anakin’s scowl disappeared almost instantly.

“What?” He asked in disbelief as Theo made a beeline to his bunk to begin packing. “Really?”

Helena nodded, flipping through a notebook with various names and phone numbers in it. She was old fashioned that way, despite being not much older than Anakin. “Don’t quote me on that, but I think I can do it,”

Anakin sprung up, the blanket falling to the floor as he pulled her out of the chair and wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you,” he rasped, aware that she might not be able to get the tour pushed back, but she was going to try, and that’s what counted. “I owe you. For everything.”

Helena huffed quietly, pulling away to look him in the eye. “We’re a team, Anakin. You guys are like my family at this point,” she murmured and Anakin felt more tears gather in his eyes. “You know I’ll try to do anything I can for you three.”

“I know,” he whispered, “Still, thank you.”

The next morning, after Anakin got about an hour and a half of sleep, he was waiting anxiously to hear if Helena had managed to get the tour postponed. He was sure Theo had been up all night, too, if the way he couldn’t seem to get comfortable in his bunk across from Anakin’s was anything to go by.

When she announced that she was able to push the tour back a few weeks, Anakin booked the first flight back to LA and had Theo beside him on the plane. Vinny was in no rush to go back, so he decided to stay behind for a few more days.

Anakin had sent you a quick text before he boarded the plane, which read,

I’m coming home. I’m going to fix everything, I promise, Princess. I love you so much.

And when he got into an Uber after the flight, he saw that you had read his text, but didn’t reply. That was the first text of his that you had read, and as pathetic as it sounded, it gave him hope.

Theo was in the car with him since they had decided to ride together. He lived a few minutes away from yours and Anakin’s apartment, so he would be dropped off after Anakin. He didn’t even care that Theo would involuntarily be listening to the voicemail Anakin is forced to leave you as you had once again ignored his call. “Baby, it’s me,” he started, glancing over at his friend and feeling grateful for the way Theo turned his body towards the window so Anakin could have at least a little bit of privacy in the car. “I’m ten minutes away from our place. I’m so sorry, for everything.”

He ended it after that, even though he had so much more to say. He wanted to save himself the embarrassment of pouring his heart out to you over the phone, just to have you delete it without even listening to it.

When the car pulled up outside the apartment complex, Anakin reached over and hugged Theo. “I hope things get better for you and Mary and your mom,” he mumbled, hearing Theo sniff quietly in response as he tried to hold off tears. “Text me if you need anything, okay? I mean it.”

Theo nodded and pulled away. “Same to you,” he says with a forced smile. “Y/n will forgive you. You’ve been together for too long to just give up on it now.”

Anakin returned a half smile, squeezing his friend’s shoulder before grabbing his bag and getting out of the car. He watched it pull away from the curb as his hand dug around in his bag for his keys, and he almost cried when he finally found them. He hadn’t used them in so long, and he was hit with the memory of the last time he was here. It was the day he left for the tour with you by his side.

If he could go back and do it again but better, he would in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t. He just had to deal with the consequences now.

Anakin blinked a few times as he entered the lobby and headed right over to the elevators, taking one all the way up to the fifteenth floor as he tried to think of what to say to you.

Would you even be there? Did you read his last text and flee the second he got on that plane? God, he hoped not.

He was a shaky, sweaty mess as he reached the floor you and he lived on, and his nerves were slowly taking over as he neared the door. Anakin couldn’t believe how nervous he was about entering his own apartment and facing you, the girl he’s loved for five years now. It had never been like that with you. Ever.

As he stuck the key in the lock and turned it, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He hadn’t seen you since that night in the dressing room nearly four days ago. He had so much to make up for, so much to apologize for, and he could only hope that you would listen.

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside the quiet apartment, his heart fell at how dark it was. He was sure you weren’t home and hadn’t been for a while, but then he heard some movement to his left, and he dropped his bag instantly and entered the living room. “Princess,” he whispered when he saw you sitting on the couch, your old Uni hoodie covering your upper half while a blanket covered the rest of you.

Your hair was tied back and your eyes were sad and empty, and when you looked up at him, you dropped your phone onto your lap with a quiet huff. “Oh, you actually were ten minutes away,” you mumbled. “I thought you were lying.”

Anakin shook his head as he scanned the dark living room. It looked like you had been living in here since you got home. Water bottles, your mugs he teased you about on the day you moved in, and cracker boxes were scattered on the coffee table he and Vinny put together. “Why…why would I lie about that?” He rasped, stepping further into the room. “Why would I lie to you?”

You tore your eyes away from him and shrugged. “Because you’ve done it before,” you simply answered, looking back up at him with tears in your eyes. “You said you loved me. And that I was the person you wanted forever.”

“Baby,” he gasped and made it over to you in three strides.

“Why are you home, Anakin?” You asked, making him stop a few centimeters away from the couch. And you. “Why are you here?”

Anakin felt hopeless and on edge. How was he supposed to fix this when he didn’t know where to start? “Because I love you. And I want you forever. Just you,” he answered. “I never lied about that.”

You bite down onto your lip and reach up to wipe at your eyes with your sleeves. “Um, Kenneth read my short story. I finished it on the flight back to London,” you tell him and he stood still, letting you say what you needed to. “He loved it. Um, he wants to get it published.”

“Y/n,” he said quietly, feeling so proud of you even though he was also feeling terrified. “That’s awesome, baby.”

You drop your hand onto your lap and look up at him with a heartbroken expression. “It’s about you,” you confess. “About us. About…how much I love you and…it’s our story, Anakin.”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped at that. You were so sweet and kind and too fucking good for him. He never deserved you. “Then publish it,” he mumbled, his own eyes welling up with tears.

“I can’t,” you cry, covering your face with your hands. “It’s too much. It reminds me of us too much, and I don’t even know what we are anymore.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, unsure of what to say to that. How does he make this better? “I’m yours,” was all he could come up with. “Even if you’re not mine anymore.”

Those words physically pained him to say, and they only made you more upset. “Fuck, Ani,” your voice broke as you called him the name he only ever let you call him. “Why are you back?”

Anakin cleared his throat and pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes. “Theo’s mom…she got worse and they don’t know if she’ll be okay or if she’ll make it,” he whispered, knowing that his friend wouldn’t be mad he told you that. Theo was your friend, too, after all.

Your eyes widened at that and you sat up, sniffling as you began looking for your phone. “That’s…that..” you trailed off as you lifted the blanket and grabbed your phone. “I should call him. I should..call him and..”

You were becoming less and less in control of yourself, and Anakin could see the way you were getting yourself worked up. “Hey,” he mumbled, grabbing your wrist as you started to stand up. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whispered and he saw tears roll down your face again. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you? What could I have done?”

A broken gasp left his lips and Anakin fell onto the couch next to you, pulling your body into his arms as you cried against his neck. “You’re enough,” he promised, cradling the back of your head and holding you tight. “You’re more than enough. Baby, you’re…you’re everything to me. My whole world. I’m so fucking sorry for what I did, for what I allowed to happen.”

You cried harder against him, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in your fists.

“I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve been there to support you,” he mumbled against the top of your head. “I’m so proud of you, of everything you’ve done. I’m sorry if you feel like you can’t bring yourself to get your story published because of me. I don’t want you to hold yourself back because of me.”

You cling onto him and lift your head. “I don’t know what to do, Ani,” you sobbed. “Please, tell me what I should do. Please.”

He could see just how much you needed help, and how you needed to be guided right now. And he would help you for as long as you needed, even if it ended up with you kicking him out afterwards. “What will make you feel better? Do you want me to leave? I can give you some space or time or-”

“No, I don’t want that,” you shake your head and crawl onto his lap.

“What do you want, princess?” He desperately asked. “What can I do?”

“I want things to go back to how they were,” you cried. “I want to feel like I did before when I look at you. It hurts, Ani. I can’t do this anymore.”

Tears fell from his eyes and landed in your hair as he held you impossibly closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You were shaking against him and he felt terrible. This was all his fault. “I want to hurt her,” you mumbled. “I hate her. I fucking hate her, Ani. I hate her for what she did to you.”

“I hate her, too,” he pathetically agreed and you lift your head.

“What are we going to do, Anakin?”

He lifted his hand and smoothed out your messy hair, trailing his thumb down to your lip afterwards. “That depends,” he murmured. “Do you still want me? Could you ever forgive me?”

You brace your hands on his shoulders and nod. “Maybe…eventually,” you answer. “I still want you.”

A breath of relief left his mouth, but he still wasn’t happy with himself. “I’m back home for a couple weeks, and I’m going to spend every single day making this up to you,” he promised.

“Then you’re back on tour?” You quietly asked and looked down. “With her?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Helena said something about pressing charges before I came here, and I might go through with it. She won’t be there, I promise. She’ll never be around me or you or us again.”

“Do it,” you encourage, grabbing the hair on the back of his neck with shaky fingers. “I don’t want her near you ever again. I hate her so much.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” his lips curved upwards just slightly as he gently massaged your hips. “That was quite the nose job you gave her.”

You laugh quietly, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I need to know that it was a mistake, Anakin,” you went back to being serious. “If you felt anything for her, even a little bit at all, I’m out.”

Anakin panicked and shook his head. “Never. I never felt anything for her,” he assured you. “She means nothing to me at all. You’re my girl, the one I want to be with for the rest of my life. I’ve known that since I was seventeen years old.”

You nod, trailing your fingers through his hair. “You promise?” You asked and he nodded instantly. “Okay…okay. Ani, these next couple weeks…I need this to be okay. Maybe not completely fixed, but…okay.”

“I’ll fix everything,” he swore, pulling you against his body again. “I promise you, I’m going to make everything okay again. I love you so much. I always will, you’re it for me. My one and only.”

You give him a small smile, tracing your fingers along his cheek before leaning up and kissing his jaw. “I love you,”

Hearing you say that had his heart skipping a beat. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to fix this,”

Anakin kisses you all over your face before letting you sit in his lap for as long as you wanted to.

It wasn’t okay, what he did. He knew that. But he was going to make damn sure that he made everything right again. He had to.

Three weeks later…

Being back on stage after the brief break Anakin was given felt great.

He loved being on stage, loved the lights and the screams of fans and the feeling he got from it all.

But it wasn’t what had him feeling so happy right now.

Theo’s mom had pulled through and was getting better by the day, and was able to stay awake for most of the day now. When she regained control of her voice, she practically forced Theo to go back and finish the tour, and told him that she would be there when it was over.

Vinny and Clara broke up, but are still friends, and Vinny decided to focus on music and the band. He had even started writing a few songs about the experience that he couldn’t wait to get out there.

And as for Anakin, he was getting ready for a court date that was set for a few months from now. He did press charges against Liz, and though she claimed she was going to fight it, he knew he had a whole team behind him. There was no way she was winning this thing.

And you. His sweet, beautiful and smart girlfriend. Well, he was gaining your trust back more and more as the days went on. You allowed Kenneth to send your story to his publisher, and it would be released by the end of the year.

He was so proud of you, and when he began singing the first verse of Wrapped Around Your Finger, he glanced over to his right and saw you standing next to Helena backstage, a smile gracing your lips and the red rose he had given you before going on stage in your hand. He knew you were proud of him, too.

And he knew things would be okay.

Goodbye, my Rockstar and Booknerd. Til we meet again.

Thank you to everyone who read and followed along with this series. I loved writing it so much ! And thank you to my sweets, @everydaydreamer for the original fic idea. Who would’ve thought we’d end up here?

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loserlvrss · 4 months

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꒰ 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 ꒱ 김동현

summary : you and your boyfriend were truly opposites, but the saying has always been that they attract, hasn’t it?

genre : fluff, leehan x afab!reader, college!au, slice of life tws : language, zombies (yeah..), pet names, mentions of not eating (could be linked to a eating disorder but also idrk) author notes : cringe couple alert (that should be me) word count : 1.4k

your hands were covered in clay, grey-brown coating your skin. you could feel the uncomfortable, but familiar feeling of it drying on your wrists, and you were glad you wore something you were okay with getting messy; because today you had done so many pieces, you were covered in muck.

you had just finished a vase, the bottom a thick sphere, tapering off as it furthered to the top. you spread the wire, after picking it up from beside you, and ran it along the stone. you picked it up carefully, grabbing the damp sponge to smooth out any finger prints.

pottery was your hobby, and you were glad you majored in art. you loved doing pieces on the wheel, and you loved sculpting unconventional things. it never felt like homework to do, and you often found yourself forgetting all about time and spending hours in the schools basement; dusty and dirty, haired tied back, back and shoulders sore, and sweats caked over.

that being said, you also often forgot to have meals as collateral to your happiness, spend time with your friends, and do things that people would deem normal. you hated the saying that you weren’t like other girls but truthfully you’d rather be in this dimly lit room than a club, like the people your age were.

but there was also one person who refused to let you starve to death in this poorly decorated room. and truthfully, he hated the flashing lights just as much, if not more than you did.

“y/n,” you looked up, a smile plastering to your features at the sight of your boyfriend who had been doing work on his computer waiting for you to finish for the last however long. “you’re done?” you nodded, moving the piece to the side, preparing to take it over by your others waiting to get glazed and fired. “it’s pretty.”

“i was thinking about painting little fishes on it and putting it inside our apartment after it gets graded, what do you think?”

“only if you eat first.” he stated, making you laugh in response. “going to die in this ugly place one day, y/n. i swear i’m going to find your body, and that wheel’s still going to be spinning.”

you walked over to the sink, opting to listen as you felt your stomach growl at the thought of eating something for, maybe, the second time today.

“my girlfriend would be a zombie, oh my god, an artsy zombie. wait, what does that even mean?”

you tried your best to scrape the clay from under your nails, however you both were used to finding it in weird places—laughing about it like it was an inside joke.

“actually, i think you might be hot like that. imagine all the rotting skin—you’d never have to do skincare ever again because it’d be falling off all the time—messy hair, but i think you’d hate this being your forever ghost outfit.”

you made a grossed-out face at his obvious jokes; however if he had said this to, or around, anyone else, it would’ve seemed genuine due to his monotone nature and straight face.

“you’re so strange, donghyun. if zombies were your type, i could’ve done my makeup differently.” you pinched his cheek with wet fingers. “but i love you anyways… even if you wouldn’t make a hot zombie.”

“what?” he exclaimed. “no way you think this!”

you were taken aback. “i didn’t know you were so serious about us being zombies… we could be a silly-little zombie couple if you want.” you giggled.

he scoffed. “how romantic, y/n. truly,”

“shut up.” you stuck your tongue out at him. “what’d you bring today?”

he took out a glass container; because he refused the plastic ones, saying something about the consumption of microplastics and fish long before you two had even entertained the idea of being in a relationship, to which you replied, save the turtles, and thrusted your fist in the air.

“leftovers from last night.” he stated, uncovering the pizza you two had shared over a couple episodes of game of thrones. you were late to the hype, but you liked the show nonetheless. he had fallen asleep on top of you after your hand had made its way into his shaggy hair, half an episode in, small snores echoing against the drama.

you two woke up on the couch in the morning.

“do you want me to heat yours up?” you questioned, motioning to the microwave that was probably older than either of you. “you know i’d rather have it cold as leftovers… but if you want me t—”

he took a bite, focusing back on his laptop. “don’t worry about it, love.”

you, too, took a bite. “what are you even working on?” you asked curiously, looking over his shoulder.

his face was inches from yours when he turned. “can you chew any louder in my ear?” you scoffed, pushing his head lightly to the side, and mocking an obnoxiously loud chew at him. it was probably the least sexy thing you could do. he laughed. “it’s my research final. twelve pages in. i’m writing about aquaculture and its impacts on the environment—did you know that they’re actually bigger than agriculture? not that either are greatly sustainable.”

you admired how different you two were, but you loved listening to him go on and on (and on) about the ocean and fish, even if you had no idea what anything truly meant. he really did suit being a marine biology major in your eyes. his enthusiasm was your enthusiasm.

you did love his little fishtank though. and despite him denying it, you knew he loved that you named them all.

“my final is much better than yours,” you laughed, watching his eyebrows furrow behind his glasses. “all i have to do is make a couple pots—which we’re gonna use for our herb garden after! our green onions and garlic are getting so big!” you cooed. “i was thinking about using their old pots for our basil and rosemary plants, do you think that they would work?”

he took his last bite, using both hands to type now. “i think that would be fine, love.”

“and we can use our new vase as our table centerpiece? your mom’s going to come over for dinner soon, i think she’d like it—maybe i’ll make her one.”

he knew that once you put your mind to it, there was no stopping you. “i’ll get you some pretty flowers for both of them.” he was just glad that you had eaten something before the idea popped into your head.

you pondered. “what’s her favorite color, baby? do you think i should make her a couple mugs or a vase? or a cutesy little plate collection? or a pot? fuck it, i’ll just do them all, she has a gar—”

“y/n,” he cut your ramble off. “you’ve already made her a cutesy plate collection for christmas, and a mug for mother’s day, and a couple pots last semester.”

you pouted. “but those plates are deco—”

“make her the vase, love. her favorite color is purple.” he smiled sweetly. “i’ll help you paint it after you’re done turning it. we can give it to her as a slightly-early birthday present when she comes over, yeah?”

“we’ll get her calla lilly’s, right?” you pleaded.

his hand rested against your cheek, taking a break from the keyboard. “yes, and you can tell me all about the meaning while we stand in line.”

you grabbed his wrist. “great… now c’mon!” he eyed you as you pulled him up with you. “you made me watch that fish documentary with you the other day, so i’m going to show you how to make this vase now.”

“baby, i have three pages left,” he tried to compromise, but you blocked it out. “i’ll just help you paint it.”

“no,” you whined, which he found more adorable than annoying. “she’d love it so much more if you helped me spin it, don’t you think?”

he knew that there was no use arguing with you—after all if this whole art-thing didn’t work out, law had always been your alternative.

“fine,” he gave in, sitting down on the stool as you happily skipped over to grab him an apron and collect an adamant amount of clay. “but if i find clay inside my keyboard after this, you’re in for it.”

“terrified. so scared. i’m shaking in my boots, donghyun.” you shuddered playfully. “i guess you’ll actually get what you want if that happens—a zombie girlfriend—luckily for you, though, this zombie girlfriend of yours has a toothpick and a lot of love for her living boyfriend.”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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atsumulogy · 2 years

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synopsis: kdrama cliches & tropes u would experience w/ ur haikyuu boys.

pairing(s): various x gn!reader

content warning: mentions of being drunk, pinch of angst at the bonus end, wrist grabbing, mentions of a fight

naia’s footnote: first post 4 this blog … Feeling: Nervous 😹this probably a bit ooc but let me live! also?? the read more thingy gives me these stupid glitches and i had to redo this for so many times

likes & reblogs are appreciated!

PIGGY BACK RIDES — scenario wherein you probably got injured or got too tired to walk and he carries you on his back (either begrudgingly or happily, either way you’re both warmer than usual in the face but no one says anything.)

→ BOKUTO, tsukishima(is part of the begrudgingly part, you’re probably too tired to walk or injured and he’s totally NOT worried about you okay? he just finds your whining annoying and wants you to shut up.) noya, asahi, aran, kita, akaashi, daichi, aone.

FORCED COHABITATION — you guys probably hate each other, and somehow, someway, you guys end up in a situation where you guys have to live together. this was not a part of his or your plans, but so is falling in love with each other but i guess fate has other plans!

→ SAKUSA, atsumu, shirabu, semi (you think he plays his guitar way too loud not knowing it’s the chords of the song he wrote about you)

CONFESSION OF FEELINGS BUT … — either you or he fell asleep, blackout drunk or just sleepy as hell. or he gets interrupted before he confesses by a phone call that will lead to many scenarios from misunderstandings to an emergency that will set back the confession a few more episodes until he actually gets to confess. or at this point, you have to be the one to confess because things just won’t go his way!

→ OIKAWA (LMAO, wanna see him suffer), ennoshita, kyotani, iwaizumi, goshiki, makki, tanaka, asahi, hinata, lev, atsumu, kuroo.

SHARING AN UMBRELLA — it rains but you forgot your umbrella, and he so happens to have one with him. and somehow you and him end up under his umbrella, close proximity as you could literally feel his hot breath and he wonders if you could hear his heart beat drumming like he just ran a whole mile. he would angle the umbrella in a way that you wouldn’t get wet by the rain while his shoulders soaking wet but it’s okay, as long as you’re fine and dry he doesn’t mind getting wet by the rain <3 (bonus if next day he gets sick and you visit him and take care of him AND maybe an almost kiss happening … 😁)

→ AKAASHI, KITA, semi, goshiki, tanaka, yamamoto, kuroo

WRIST GRABS — grabs your wrists to get you to talk to him because you walked out on him OR OR HE GRABS YOUR WRISTS BECAUSE HE GOT JEALOUS WITH THE GUY YOU’RE TALKING TO OR (they try not to be as forceful or harsh tho ☹️)

→ iwaizumi, osamu, suna, yaku, kyotani, tsukishima, kageyama, oikawa, atsumu, kuroo (?) atp i’m just saying anyone that comes into my mind LMAO

OLD CHILDHOOD FRIENDS THAT MEET AGAIN (AND FALL IN LOVE) — okay so you guys either remember each other not, but that really doesn’t matter in the end because either way, you guys would end up together. hashtag fated soulmates!

→ ushijima (I JUST FEEL LIKE HE COULD FIT THIS TROPE .. or probably he reminds of this male lead in a kdrama i watched with this trope LOL), sakusa, noya, oikawa, tendou.

SHOULDER NAP — he falls asleep in your shoulders, whether he meant to or not won’t change the fact that you could hear the beat of your heart increasing, your breath hitching, and suddenly the room feels hotter than ever.

or you fall asleep in his shoulder and suddenly he can’t move a single muscle anymore, but it’s fine, he thinks, as you nuzzle yourself unconsciously into his neck.

→ SUNA, kenma, kyotani (you fall asleep on his shoulders and instead of pushing you off him, he lets you sleep there and glares at anyone who stares at you guys.), kageyama, tsukishima.

BONUS: THE LOVE TRIANGLE TROPE — my guilty pleasure but also my most behated trope ever.

the male lead — the one who got the love interest in the end.

→ oikawa, tsukishima (it’s giving asshole male lead but gets the girl in the end anyway!), bokuto, terushima, tanaka, kageyama, atsumu, osamu, shirabu, goshiki, ushijima

the second lead — probably deserves the love interest as much as the male lead OR probably deserves the love interest more LMAO

→ akaashi (he treats the love interest so well and he just?? loves them sm?? even though he’s not the one that they picked?? crying he doesn’t even expect anything from them. he's the type of second lead every viewer was rooting for), iwaizumi, kindaichi, lev, yamamoto, and if i say suna, ennoshita, noya, konoha, koganegawa, semi, kawanishi

#atsumu x reader #oikawa x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyuu drabbles #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #kuroo x reader #tsukishima x reader #ushijima x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x you

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adventuringblind · 7 months

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Misinterpreted

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: Fluff and Crack

Summary: She couldn't see what everyone else could. Not until it hits her all at one.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, a whole lotta blushing

Notes: Thanks to the requester for this idea!! Sorry it's so short...

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It's not like she meant to hate him. She just couldn't see what everybody else was.

Charles is just another person like the rest of them. Yet people still fawn over him like he's been sent from the god's.

At least, that's what she thought growing up. Going through karting and the feeder series with Charles was torture. She was just there, trying to carve her way into formula 1. He had everyone chanting his name, loved by many, the future golden boy of Ferrari.

She'd made it a point to stay far away from him. Simply because she never saw the point of conversing. Definitely not because she is terrified of speaking to people in general.

"Watcha staring at?" Max sidle's up next to her and wiggles her eyebrows. She squeaks out a noise and lets herself calm down from the startle. Leave it to her teammate to know what she's doing.

"None of your business."

"Really? Because it looks to me like you're staring at Charles."

She violently hushes Max. "Shh! Someone could hear you!"

Max rolls his eyes before smirking at her. He looks pointedly at the Monegasque with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Don't you dare-"

He whistles, successfully grabbing Charles' attention. He smiles and waves him over. "You'll be fine!"

She can feel the blush spreading across her face. Her hand slaps Max's shoulder playfully. She moves to make an escape, like she has to be anywhere else but here.

Max grabs her wrist, looking playful, but there is that look in his eyes that says he will force her if she doesn't comply. Needless to say, she sits back down. Her eyes fall in love with the dirty grey of the cement ground.

"Hello you two!" He sounds so happy for this early in the morning. She briefly looks at her watch.

Correction: He's so happy at two in the afternoon. Why is he even happy at this time? Charles, apparently.

"Charlie! We were just talking about you." Max jabs an elbow into her side.

"All good things, I hope. I know I'm not a favorite to some." She can feel his obnoxiously pretty eyes burning holes into her.

Max barks out a laugh, then looks between the two of them. "Okay, I can feel the tension. Which is saying something, since normally I'm the one creating it."

Charles gives a wary look to the female still sinking into herself. "I wouldn't be opposed to lessening the tension."

"Great! I'll send her your way tonight at eight."

"Sounds like a plan."

Charles leaves the two alone finally and she sobs in relief. "Why are you crying? I though you liked him!"

"I do! That's the problem."

~~~~~

Max drags her to some restaurant, sits her at the table with Charles and threatens to ram her off the line if she tries to leave. He followed through with his last threat. She's not willing to risk Christian's wrath for her pride.

She attempts conversation with Charles. It feels awkward and tense. The regret and insecurity rattles around her mind. Why is he even here? He could be off doing other things with people he actually likes.

"Why do you dislike me? I've been wanting to ask you for years so I could apologize for whatever I did."

And.... what? She stares at him in disbelief. Unsure of how to explain that she didn't have an interest in anything but racing until she got to F1 and finally realized how ethereal he looks?

"Didn't know you thought that way!" Charles is glowing.

"Did I say that aloud?"

"Yeah, but it's nice hearing such a compliment you."

She hides her face behind her menu, only to have Charles take it away from her. He reaches further and gently pulls her gaze towards him-

She's going to combust. This is how it ends. Death by forced and prolonged eye contact.

"So, if I asked you out again, would you say yes this time?"

She nods her head yes. A little too enthusiastically.

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oleander-nin · 9 months

Text

Yandere ROTTMNT Vampire Headcanons

A/N, not important: I am so sorry this is so late. I haven't been doing very well lately. I have one more vampire thing in the works, and I'm also going to start getting as many of my requests done as possible. Feel free to ask questions if you need clarification or want a certain thing answered. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Food insecurity, withholding of food, vampires, bites, dark themes, violence, yandere

Words: 1696

Summary: Yandere ROTTMNT Vampire Headcanons

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay

Michelangelo:

Mikey tries to hide it from you for a while, mostly because he doesn’t want you to be aware of his added abilities. He thinks it’s just funny now when you try to plot an escape or fight back, since now you really have no chance. Most likely, you never even realized he was a vampire until he first sinks his fangs in your wrist.

He thinks biting you is like, subtly romantic since you’re more or less blessing him with your blood. You’re allowing him to live off your own life, and it just pulls him further into his delusions of love. Obviously you’d fight back harder if you truly hated him. I mean, so far, he only has to chain you down!

Mikey will constantly talk about your future with him. Now that he’s going to live forever, he knows he actually means it when he says he’s never leaving your side. He’ll track down the original mutant to get them to infect you, ensuring that you’ll be with him until the sun goes out. He’s absolutely giddy at the thought, updating you every day on his hunt for the mutant until he finds them.

Before he can infect you, he’s even clingier than before. His skin always feels cold now, so he’s drawn to your natural warmth and just likes to be near you.

Watches you sleep a lot as he lays with you. Now that he can see in the dark, he doesn’t want to waste a single moment where he could be admiring you.

Once he finally turns you, he’s ecstatic. His only grief is that he can’t feed from you any more, but he’s plenty happy with the certainty you’ll never be able to leave him.

If you complain about being turned, he’ll get upset. He did this for you! He ensured both of you would be together forever more, and now you’re being ungrateful. He’ll pout for a while, trying to convince you of all the ways your life is better now.

He’ll withhold blood from you if you misbehave. Because you obviously can’t hunt yourself, you rely on Mikey to get you your food. If he thinks you’re being unfair, or aren’t listening, he’ll conveniently ‘forget’ to get enough food to feed you as well.

He gets surprised when you fight back more after being turned, your enhanced strength and speed making him question his choice for a small while. He doesn’t like that you have a better chance of leaving now. He obviously wins, but he’s afraid he’ll slip up and you’ll get away. He keeps you chained tighter for a while, at least until you’ve calmed down. No matter how long that takes.

Donatello:

He doesn’t tell you of his new infection, but he doesn’t hide it either. It’s just another mutation to him, one that’s more beneficial in a lot of ways once he realizes how much more he can do. He doesn’t really see why he should tell you, especially when you’re fighting him at every turn anyways. You’ll probably find out after seeing him storing blood bags in the fridge in his lab, which causes you to freak out.

Once you’re aware he’s a vampire, he’ll start feeding off you more since he finds it more convenient than going out. He likes holding you and just sinking his teeth into your shoulder while he works. It keeps you both still and close, and it prevents him from having to find his own food. He claims the prolonged contact helps you both bond whenever you try to fight him.

Donnie is obsessed with getting you infected as well. He’s terrified of losing you somehow now that he knows he doesn’t ever have to. He’ll hunt down the original mutant to get you bit, not even telling you of his plan until you’re already bit. He doesn’t want to give you a chance to try something stupid before he’s able to secure your place by his side, even if he knows he won’t be able to feed on you anymore.

He has two new punishments for you now that you joined him in the undead. While he isn’t afraid to withhold blood from you for misbehaving, he’s more likely to either force feed you normal food, which tastes awful and can make you nauseous, or he’ll only give you human blood. Both options leave you paranoid with the blood/food he gives you. If you ever try to refuse what he gives you, he’s not afraid to force it down your throat himself.

Threatens to give you blood from your family or friends if you continue to try and cause problems. While he wouldn’t ever really want to actually give you blood from a loved one, he’s not above lying and telling you the blood you're drinking is from them.

The new strength and speed you gain from being turned makes Donnie paranoid. Theoretically, you now have a better chance at escaping. To negate this problem, Donnie makes you wrist and ankle weights to slow you down. At least, until you give him a reason to slow you down permanently.

Raphael:

Raph only feeds off you when he’s too tired to go find his own food. He’s paranoid he’ll drain you, even when his brothers insist it’s impossible. He doesn’t see a reason to feed off you when he has a supply of animal blood at the ready. The difference in taste isn’t a big thing to him, and he doesn’t mind having to find his own food while he’s out. The sewers have plenty of small critters living around.

He’s terrified of hurting you. Raph knows he’s strong, and he’s not always the most sure footed because of his large size. When he accidentally hurt you before, he would coddle you for weeks, but now that he’s nearly twice as strong normally? He knows he’s going to have a lot of accidents, so he practically babies you until he’s adjusted to his new strength. He doesn’t care how suffocating you say he’s being, he refuses to let you be hurt when you don’t need to be.

Waits till you're older to turn you. He wants you to stay human for as long as possible. While he knows turning you would be beneficial as you’d be less likely to get hurt, he doesn’t like the idea of taking your humanity until he has to. Refuses to argue about turning you when he finally does. He mentions it once and doesn’t care how much you protest. He’s let you stay human for years longer than needed. You should be thanking him in his eyes.

Likes to hold you a lot more. He’ll keep you in his arms as he moves from room to room, or be cuddling you whenever you’re both alone. Having you with him forever makes him so happy, and he doesn’t want any time to go by without you feeling loved, or how he perceives loving you anyways.

Hates you when leave his sight. Now that you’re faster and stronger, he’s afraid you’ll do something stupid and try to run. He sees keeping you near him as him protecting you from yourself.

Doesn’t let up on his protective behavior, even though you’re now tougher. He’s not taking any chances with you and your safety. Any plea to leave and go outside is instantly shut down. You’re no longer human, you don’t need to go up top anymore. Your place is with him, forever.

Leonardo:

He doesn’t tell you until he feels it’ll help him. He likes having the extra strength you won’t know about, at least until telling you benefits him. If you’re throwing a fit or have refused to talk to him for a while, he’ll flash his fangs and threaten to drain you until you pass out. After you know, he’ll constantly remind you of his heightened senses and strength. He doesn’t want you to forget how hard it will be to ever leave his side.

Is always a bit worried he’ll get too rough with you and hurt you more than he means to. His upgraded strength makes him more confident, but he doesn’t always remember how much strength he gained. Even as he teases you, he’s hesitant to actually try and mess with you in case he goes too far.

Dry bites a lot. He likes just sinking his fangs in your shoulder while he holds you close, liking the fact you’ll have the imprint of his teeth in your skin for a while. He doesn’t like to feed from you, since it makes him feel like a parasite, but he likes to see the faces you make when he touches the holes his teeth made in your skin.

Waits a while to turn you, mostly because he knows you’ll be able to run faster if you ever do get away. Before he turns you, he’ll start keeping you locked away more. He’ll have you turned while you’re asleep so you don’t even know what happened. In Leo’s opinion, the less you know about this, the better.

He’s ecstatic now that you’re going to be by his side forever. His worst nightmare was losing you, and now he’ll never have to worry about that again. You don’t have to worry about most diseases, death, or being alone now that you have him. Leo treats turning you like a huge favor, ignoring the fact he knows you never wanted it. He plays off hiding it like it was a surprise.

Pretty much solely feeds you animal blood at first, only giving you human if he feels you’re acting out too much. He doesn’t tell you of the change, but he knows it tastes different, and you do too. He doesn’t want to mess with your food too much, since blood is now the only thing you can consume.

If you ever do escape, he’ll probably go straight to an extreme now. You’re stronger, and you're more agile due to the mutation, which makes you harder to contain. He’s not willing to lose you, even if it means hurting you.

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kissitbttr · 1 year

Text

exhale

summary: miguel’s trauma doesn’t stop you from loving him

a/n: fluff and bit of angsty? enjoy!

the first time you met miguel, you learned that he’s indeed a complicated man. haunted by a trauma that he can’t seem to let go nor move past from and you were okay with that.

you learn to live with his anger and grief that he has to carry everyday. he warned you beforehand that he is a complex being, how you won’t be able to take the amount of ‘burden’ he has weighing on his shoulders because it won’t be fair to you.

but your stubborn self refuses to go. your arms crossed, face forming an annoyed expression as he gave you a long speech about how he doesn’t deserve you. and he hates the fact you had an answer to everything. why were you so keen to loving him despite the flaws he has.

through that, you told him that you were willing to wait until he’s healed. no matter how long it takes.

from that moment, his soul burns for you. his love grows each day because you were indeed patient. luck had been in his favor ever since.

even that one night, where you watched him sit on his chair. watching clips of him and his late daughter ‘gabriella’ being replayed over and over. his expression soured each seconds with tears forming from the corner of his eyes.

who could blame him? grief is one hell of a feeling.

as you stand by the doorway, already in your nightgown getting ready for bed, you softly knock on the door.

“my love, are you coming to bed?”

hearing your soft voice speaks, miguel regains his composure. head craning towards you and you watch how his frown forms into a small smile,

you look like angel. how is it even possible?

“in a second, mi amor. just need to revise a few technical problems that keep happening back at the HQ, i’m sending the reports to Lyla right now” he confirms, eyes looking directly to you.

with a nod, you stride yourself closer to him. taking one good look of his state. and he looks exhausted.

“how are you, baby?” you sound concerned, kneeling down in front of him as you observe the details of his gorgeous features. “you look tired. what is it?”

as your knuckle reach out to thread lightly against his cheekbone, he sighs in contentment. eyes closing momentarily and feel your soft touch.

“nothing” he lies with a smile, grasping your wrist before giving it a kiss,

one thing you hate. you don’t like being lied to. especially by him.

“don’t lie to me, miggy” your tone sounds stern yet still soft. “what is it?”

he contemplates for a while, only finding himself get lost in your beautiful eyes. heart soaring at the sound of your concerns, which makes him feel like the only person he belongs to is you. and he loves the fact that his heart only beats for him and yours for his.

but, there are times where he wonders is it worth it? to drag you into his mess and makes you wait for him to finally break free from the grief that has kept him cages for a long period of time.

is he a good person to you? are you actually meant for him? he doesn’t want to let you go. you’ve become a part of his life and he sees a future with you,

“how could you always tell, cariño?” he breathes a small chuckle. he tends to feel amazed at how well you could read his mind

“you’re my person, miguel… of course i could always tell” you give him a smile, fingers softly running through his hair, earning a sigh from his mouth.

you watch how his eyes move down, gaze empty as he lightly shakes his head. a sob breaks from him and the way he hides himself from you makes your heart torn. because you know what has been occupying his mind,

‘dear god please let me heal him’ you think to yourself

“i just—I miss her— very much” his voice begins to crack, chest heaving as the tears now start to freely roll down his cheeks. “and fuck—lo siento mi amor—this is not…It’s been done too many times now and i—“

“hey no, stop” you hate how he has to say sorry for something he can’t control of. you move your body closer to him, palming his cheek. “you don’t have to apologize. never, miguel. do you hear me?”

“but it isn’t fair to you” he speaks, jumping his eyes back to yours. “it isn’t fair because—“

“what, because we’re married?” your eyebrows raised, seeing him nod with confirmation. “no. that is nonsense. you don’t have to put up this Mr.Tough guy with me. you get that? you can be vulnerable around me. I’m allowing you to be vulnerable around me.”

and it is true. you don’t find him crying is a sign of weakness nor is being tough is some sort of act like manliness. you want him to be comfortable around you because you love him.

“we made a vow to each other, remember?” your hands are cupping his face now, thumb grazing under his eyes. “ ‘through good shit and bad shit—

“ ‘i’ll pick you up when it gets too heavy’ “ he finishes the sentence before you do, remembering the vow you both took the night at your wedding.

his lips pulls into a smile. he remembers how the crowd erupted in laughter at your both silly antics, and how miguel had his hands around your waist and dipped you for a kiss before the revenant could even finish the ‘you may kiss the bride’ speech,

he couldn’t wait to make you his, that’s why he had to do it.

you let out a small laugh, nodding as you find the tears starting to build in the corner of your eyes as well. “that’s right baby.”

both of you gaze into each other’s eyes. millions thoughts of love comes into your minds and hearts, it feels like an eternity watching each other like this but none of you care.

it’s home.

“and i am telling you once again… that you get to exhale now. you get to breathe with me, and i will be there by your side and allow you to express you feelings and be whatever you want to be because you are my husband and i love you.”

he adores how you speak to him. a true poet that you are who manage to give him warmth and closure. things that he has been longing for and he had no idea he would be this lucky.

“i love you most, mi alma” he mirrors your expression before leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips,

lust, happiness, adoration… he’s pouring it all into that kiss.

for the longest time miguel had prayed for an angel, instead he received something better.

he received you.

and nothing could ever compare to that feeling.

a/n: fun fact that vow? it was one that my parents took at their wedding night hehe, I’ve consulted with my mom about that. anyways hope u guys love that😚🫶🏻

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Forget-Me-Not 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You sit in the cold room, shivering as your fingers pulse numbly, toes too. They’ve taken your shoes, your clothes, and your freedom. You won’t let them break you though. You won’t let those damned Odinsons win. This isn’t a victory. There are some things they can’t win.

You shift, taking some of the weight off of your bound wrists. You lean against the wall, shoulders pressed to the plaster, ankles crossed as your keep your knees to your chest in an effort to stay warm. The dampness of the hotel basement adds to the deep chill in your bones as the noise of rumbling washers and dryers whirring from down the hall. You would scream if your could.

The cloth is dry and gritty in your mouth, remnants of dirty caught in the fabric from your struggle. You fought as hard as you could. You always did and yet it always turned out like this. You were never strong enough.

You hang your head. You always knew the Odinsons were scum. That there was something twisted about them. Their entitlement always reeked, but this, you couldn’t predict they’d go this far. And for what? A dead woman’s rotting old house.

No, this isn’t about the house. This is about you. This is because you didn’t let their spoiled little son break you.

You snicker darkly. How it must burn him to know he couldn’t crush the town slut with his wormy dick. That the girl who was already cracked, didn’t just shatter against his inflated ego.

He’s not as clever as he thinks. Look at you. This is not great trick. This is arrogance. This is desperation. It’s the Odinson way; if you don’t get what you ask for, you take it.

Your laughter trickles off as you hear the footfalls approach. You hate that you know his gait. That you’re certain it’s him before he even appears. You don’t look up, you won’t suffer the sight of him.

“I tried to play nice,” he taunts as he closes the door. “I even asked...”

You lean your head to one side and close your eyes in a yawn. He huffs and his toes taps, the polished leather glinting in the corner of your eye. He steps nearer and looms over you.

“It didn’t have to be like this.”

“It does,” you say blithely, “do you really think you are the worst thing that ever happened to me?” You snort, “please.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t believe so. It must be hard to compare between so many,” he mocks, “do you even recall how many there were? Hm?”

Your lips tauten and you clench your jaw.

“You always were a pathetic little loser, Loki Odinson,” you sneer.

“I’m certain you thought so when we met by the river, hm? When you cried to me--”

“Oh, get on with it,” you snap. “I’m over this. I’m over you,” you lift your chin and glare up at him defiantly, “I haven’t thought of you in twenty years and if you weren’t standing here in front of me, I’d not even know what you look like or how your voice makes my skin crawl. I do not think of you. You are nothing. We both know if you left this forsaken village, you be just another snake in the grass and soon enough you’d be trampled under someone else’s boots--”

He moves quickly. You can’t react, can’t defending yourself as he kicks to in the chest, putting his sole flat to it as he pins you to the wall. You wheeze and cackle. That’s it. You got him.

“Let’s think about who is under who’s boot, dear,” he slithers.

“I...” you rasp, “you know... people talk...” you take tight, tortured breaths under the crush of his boot, “so much and I never heard... of a wife... or children... nothing but... dejection...”

“Shut up,” he barks.

“You’re trapped here,” you croak, “by your own fucking... fear. Because you’re scared... that Loki Odinson... is no one--”

He brings his toe up to your chin, kicking you so your jaw snaps shut and your teeth pinch your tongue painfully. You taste blood as you land on your side. You groan and try to blink away the silver stars in your vision.

“Aw, baby...” your legs fold over limply, “did I hit a nerve--”

He squats down and fists your hair, ripping your head up violently. Twisted on your side, your eyes roll with the lingering impact of his kick. You grin with blood coated teeth.

“You never used to talk so much--”

“Ptah!” You spit your mouthful into his face. He lets you go and you barely keep your head from hitting the floor. He wipes his cheek and grimaces. “You always talked too much.”

He doesn’t say a word. You hear a metallic tink, the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle. How many times had you heard that? How many times did you close your eyes and just wish it was over?

You brace yourself and use all your strength to move. You roll onto your back and plant your feet. You turn yourself as fast as you can, leaning your weight on your shoulders as you use your legs to maneuver. You fling your foot up and land your shot true.

Your foot crunches into Loki’s crotch as he stands pompously over you. He gurgles and goes rigid as his legs lock. He grips tight the leather of his belt and trembles before he falls to his knees. You kick again, this time catching his stomach. He puffs out with a gasp and you go for a third.

You miss his face as he shields himself with his forearm. He grunts as he cups his pants with one hand and grabs your ankle with his other. He yanks you, twisting your foot away from his face as you aim your heal at his jaw once more. He latches onto your other ankle and flips you over, swinging around to straddle you as you flail your legs.

Your knees hit the floor painfully as he pins you. He turn himself around so he’s facing your head and he smacks the back of your skull. He growls and lifts himself slightly. The buckle clinks again and leather swishes against fabric. You snarl as he hooks the belt around your neck and pulls it tight, forcing your head back.

“I know you remember this feeling,” he bends to hiss against your scalp, “I know you think about this every night. I want you to think about it every second of every day...” he yanks the belt until you can’t breathe, “you will never forget me. Never.”

#loki #loki x reader #dark loki #dark!loki #forget-me-not #series #drabble #au #backwoods #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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yourantag · 6 months

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The Red Means I Love You (Edgar×Reader)

AN: This was supposed to be finished and posted on Valentine's Day. However, as you can see from the word count, that was a fool's errand. I wanted to delve more into yanderes since I find them fascinating in writing, and now, here we are. Staining White Day red, I present to you the most generic title for an Edgar fic you will ever see. (Btw, I apologize to Edgar fans- I might've massacred your boy but I swear I tried my best.) Word count: 4.9k words TW: Blood, violence, murder, yandere themes, and blackmailing. Summary: Accepting the invitation of a dubious letter sounds just about as bad as it actually was. Oletus manor is not a name spoken without notoriety, after all. Was that where it all began? Was this your first mistake? No, it was further down the line, wasn't it? Yes, perhaps it was when you became the muse of an artist with no inspiration.

Reality has disappointed you time and time again. The expectations of a life of peace was crushed easily under the hands of society. So, you fled. You fled inside your head, transporting yourself into worlds of fiction. Romance, mystery, fantasy, and the likes kept you alive. It was the only thing you could really call safe.

Among many genres, you favored one above the others.

Horror.

There’s a certain comfort that comes from these fictional tales. You know they aren’t real, that the killer can’t find you, that these psychopaths don’t exist. Are there people similar to them? Sure, but they aren’t in your life. Thus, they merely stay as silly little people within a book.

But, it’s not quite enough. The thrill of words upon a page cannot compete with the real deal. While you weren’t stupid enough to seek out murderers or the like, you were still dumb enough for Baron DeRoss, apparently.

The envelope is white as a dove, a blood red stamp sealing it shut. It whispers promises and praise, false hope and rewards. It’s an enticing offer, truly. Would you let it guide you astray?

Well, you were never one to turn away from the call of the abyss.

“I really don’t get it. I know it’s game changing, but it’s not helpful for anyone else but me! Why do they want me to team up with them?” You huffed, resting your face on your palms. Edgar merely rolled his eyes, flicking his wrist. Focused on the canvas in front of him, he let the brush streak red through white.

“You said it yourself, your abilities are game changing. We don’t even know the full extent of your abilities– who knows? Maybe you could completely uproot the current meta. Besides,” He smirked, peering at you from the corner of his eye. “The hunters are terrified of you.”

You paused, letting your arms fall flat against the table.

“Scared? Of me? I’m just another survivor– what do they have to be afraid of?”

Edgar hummed, tapping the handle end of his paint brush against his lips. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t quite fancy being stabbed.”

Okay, yeah, that was fair.

Most survivors didn’t possess the ability to fight the hunter, not really, yet here you were. When Jack had first chased you, he had the reckoning of his life. You wince at the phantom feeling of stabbing steel into flesh and bone. That was, admittedly, not what you had expected to be your special skill.

You pouted, cheek against the cool wood of Edgar’s table as you glanced around. His room was an odd combination of an art exhibition hall and an actual bedroom. It was big and extravagant, but you wouldn’t expect any less from him.

Well, kind of.

Edgar confused you. Intriguing, even among the sea of other unique characters within the manor. You suppose that’s why he’s your favorite comrade and closest friend, if you could call him that. He’s never kicked you out of his room or flat out yelled at you, so safe to say he didn’t hate you, at least.

He’s neutral on all matters within the manor, composed regardless of what he faced. All he cared about was his art, nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps that was how he was unaffected by everything.

You suppose that’s natural for an artist. You can’t claim to understand it perfectly, but in a way, you truly understood.

“It’s like… you’re a moth drawn to a flame, right? Art is something you’re willing to give your life to, dedicate your whole body and soul to. Even if you have to sacrifice your time, energy, or health, for the perfect outcome, you’d do it.” You had said it off handedly, not thinking much of it then. In some respects, wasn’t his passion for art just like your obsession with thrill?

But then he had grabbed your hands, looking into your eyes with such fervor. His gaze burned, a certain desperation flickering within it. What was he seeking so fiercely? What was making Edgar, apathetic, snide Edgar, act like he had found an oasis in the desert?

“You get it?” He whispered, almost pleading.

“Maybe,” You responded.

That had been enough for him.

Since then, you and Edgar had become an odd pair. Not quite friends, but too close to be acquaintances. You gravitated towards him, as he did to you. More often than not, you’d ask him if he’d like to team up for matches. More often than not, he’d say yes.

You suppose that’s another reason why other survivors regard you with care.

Edgar isn’t the most difficult person to work with, but definitely not the easiest. He’s all too much and too little: haughty and snide, distant and cold. He’s a reliable teammate, not a likable one.

Still, the playful sparkle in his eyes as he led the hunter straight to you made you beg to differ. You’d curse him out as you ran, glaring at him after the match was over, before begrudgingly thanking him for supporting you with a painting or two.

However odd it was, you wouldn’t trade your friendship for the world.

There’s a letter in your mailbox.

That isn’t especially weird, considering that’s what a mailbox is for. Letters, mail, packages, whatever. Still, you can’t help but pause as you stare at it. A white envelope with a lovely red seal, the stamp itself in the shape of a camellia. The embossed flower is outlined in gold, shimmering softly in the low light of your room.

Gently, you pry open the seal, careful not to damage it or the envelope. Once you’ve successfully extracted the letter without destroying everything, you stare at it with uncertainty.

It seemed like this was a love letter from the presentation alone, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit unsettled. You couldn’t understand why, however. It was beautiful, but simple. It wasn’t overwhelming, nor alarming. So why, from the depths of your heart, was your subconscious screaming at you to run? As though you were about to open Pandora’s box?

You unfold the letter and read.

Edgar gives you the nastiest side eye you’ve ever seen. Perhaps you deserve it after the stunt you pulled. Then again, what else were you supposed to do? He was going to be sent back to the manor if you hadn’t let yourself go down.

In the end, thanks to your sacrifice, the potential tie had turned into a win. Sure, you were the one sent back to the manor instead, but a win was a win! Though, Edgar seemed to disagree.

“You’re an idiot.”

You would be offended if it weren’t for the fact that he was wrapping your wounds. The tender touches were barely there, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. He was being careful, making sure you didn’t feel even an ounce of unnecessary pain. The concentration he was putting into taking care of you was something you had only seen when Edgar was painting.

The subtle quirk of his lips, eyes barely narrowed, and relaxed shoulders expressed more to you than any words ever could. The guilt that pooled into his chest, made evident by the quiet sighs he’d let out, seemed to manifest itself as kindness and gentle care.

It made you really want to tease him.

“Ow!” You hiss, flinching slightly away from the man. Edgar freezes, staring at you with concern.

“Shit– sorry, I didn’t mean to.” The sincere remorse in his voice immediately makes you regret your decision.

“Wait, wait, wait, no, I– gah, sorry. I was just messing with you.”

The painter’s formerly soft expression faded into a scowl, a glare sent your way even as he finished wrapping you up. Edgar immediately stands up, leaving you scrambling to do the same as he leaves the infirmary.

“Ahhhh, wait, I’m sorry! Wait, Edgar, I’m sorry, I swear I won’t do that again! C’mon, don’t leave me like this! I–” You trip on something, stumbling as you lose balance. You fully expect to kiss the ground, what with one of your arms in a cast, when lithe arms catch you.

You glance up at Edgar with a sheepish smile, gazing upon the apathetic look upon his face. Apathetic, to anyone else but you. You can see the little curl of his lips, the faint swirl of amusement in his eyes.

He helps you reorient yourself, hands on your shoulders. Once you’re safely standing, Edgar turns and continues down the hallway. His steps are slower than usual. It’s probably the closest you’ll get to an invitation.

You grin, chasing after him once more.

“So does this mean you forgive me?”

“No.”

“How do you manage to stay sane, painting the same thing over and over again?” You ask, half dangling off a couch. Edgar’s room is still as grand as ever, but you can see the changes. It seems more lived in, more homey. There’s a table that isn’t covered in paint, brushes, or other art supplies. There’s shelves with books instead of art supplies. Then, those cabinets have, wait for it, something other than art supplies.

It seems like a small shift to others, though that’s probably because they don’t visit Edgar half as often as you do. The first time you saw the couch, you thought you were hallucinating.

The Edgar Valden, using something other than a stool? Incredible, revolutionary, absolutely groundbreaking.

He did not appreciate your dramatics, or so he claimed, but you knew he was covering his mouth to hide his smile.

“I’m not painting the same thing, and I am, in fact, going insane.” Edgar responds, frown deepening as he mixes a few colors together. You hum, peeking at the canvas as much as you can from your position. From the sketch, you could tell it was a portrait. A rare occurrence, considering Edgar preferred landscapes.

“Why the sudden interest in portraits?” You ask, sitting more comfortably on the couch. Glancing at the shelves, you skim through the books. Edgar wouldn’t mind if you read one of them, right?

The man pauses, his expression almost bashful. It’s so bizarre you can’t help but raise a brow. Edgar has never been afraid to draw attention to himself. He’s no pushover, willing to fight for what he wants while still remaining relatively neutral. To see him like that, a dust of what can only be blush upon his cheeks, twists something in your heart.

Before you can untangle what exactly you were feeling, the painter coughs.

“Well, I tried talking with Victor about expressing oneself. He suggested letters, or other mediums I’m comfortable with. So…” Edgar stares at his canvas, his smile more so a grimace. “I’m trying out his suggestion, I suppose.”

You tilt your head, humming to yourself as you nod. Sliding off the couch, you grab one of the books on Edgar’s shelf. “Well, then I wish you the best of luck.”

His eyes linger on you, closing softly as his expression relaxes. When he opens them again, he starts creating new hues with more focus.

“I’ve been getting letters recently.” You mention, flipping another page in your book. Edgar paused, turning to look at you.

“And?”

You closed your eyes, contemplating. This really wasn’t something you had to tell him. But, well, nothing too interesting has been happening lately. The matches have finally grown duller, the thrill fading as you stayed longer. You were running out of things to ramble about, so why not?

“They’re love letters. Nicely decorated, with neat handwriting. If I had to guess, someone born into privilege.” You think Edgar flinches at that.

“It’s really sweet, honestly. A shame they’re anonymous.” You skim over the words on the page, brows knitting themselves tight. The main character was oblivious to the danger so close to them. How frustrating.

“A shame, really.” Edgar echoes back, delicately brushing shadows along the red camellias. His painting seemed nearly finished, if you only stared at the beautiful flowers. The rest of the canvas was rather barren, a figure still not yet painted whole.

“C’mon, theorize with me! Who could it be? I put my bets on Jack.” You sighed dramatically, head thrown back with your hand on your forehead.

You received no response, however.

“Hear me out! He called me darling, dear, and tried to kill me. Obviously, he fell for my sick kiting skills and great looks. I rest my case.” Still, nothing.

You were getting really worried with how unresponsive Edgar was being. Usually, when you started overexaggerating like that, he’d make a snarky remark. Something like “please, you get terror shocked at 5 ciphers” or “you make amphibians look appealing.”

The silence was really getting to you.

“I mean, he’s got confidence in spades so it probably isn’t him. Still, I kinda hope it is, he’s rather attrac–” SNAP!

Your head snaps up from your book, turning to Edgar so quickly you nearly give yourself whiplash. There, in his hands, are the remains of a broken paint brush. Blood oozes from his tightly clenched hands, slowly trickling down his palm and under the cuff of his shirt. That was reason for concern as is, but the most startling thing of all was his eyes.

Blue, like the sky. Blue, like the sea. Blue, like the wings of a morpho butterfly.

Blue, like the swirling vortex of the night sky.

You rush over, grabbing the first aid kit you know he keeps for you, before standing next to him. You’ve never seen him like this, eyes so dark and blank. It’s honestly scaring you a little, but that means nothing when he’s hurt.

So, you kneel, pulling out tweezers, disinfectants, and bandages. Gently prying his hand open, you discard the larger pieces of the brush. With the tweezers, you pick out splinters of wood embedded in his skin. You whisper apologies as you do, knowing this definitely hurts, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.

By the time you finally disinfect his hand and wrap it, Edgar seems a lot more like himself than before. He gazes at you with quiet consideration, blinking slowly. Languid, calm, almost cat-like.

“Are you okay?” You ask, holding his hand. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him react like that. The kinder side of you hopes it’ll never happen again, if only so he won’t needlessly hurt himself like that. The morbid side of you wants to see him like that again, what you can distinguish as cold, searing rage threatening to consume him whole.

Edgar leans his head forward and onto your shoulder. The scent of citrus, chamomile, and something chemical tickles your nose, brushing against you as the painter sighs. He seems… tired.

“Let me rest my head, just for a bit.”

You don’t have the heart to say no.

The next few letters you get are… odd. Passionate as always, but far more obsessive. The first few had been sweeter, more tender. This was escalating in a weird direction, and as much as you loved yourself a good horror story, romance and horror never mix well. They were starting to threaten you, saying they’d hurt the people around you, and that was where you drew the line.

So, you start ignoring them. It sounds foolish, especially for a connoisseur of all things freaky, but life is more mundane than fiction. If this person doesn’t have the guts to confess to you, does it make sense that they’d have the guts to actually go through with their threats? Logically, no.

Besides, even if they did, the people of the manor are strong. They can hold their own. Even if they can't, that person will get outcasted for hurting a survivor, regardless of if they’re a hunter. “No violence outside of matches,” that was the first rule both factions set.

So, it was safe to assume you had nothing to worry about. You have more important things to deal with, anyway, especially with a new survivor arriving. His name was Orpheus, a novelist. You were thrilled, especially since he was the author of some of your favorite series.

You were busy with preparations, practically skipping with joy. The other survivors poked fun at you, both for your enthusiasm and the lack of a certain painter at your side.

Edgar was concentrating on his art, as per usual, and you didn’t want to bother him. He seemed a little lonely, though, so you tried to convince a few people to talk to him. They all just looked at you as if you grew another head.

“Are we… looking at the same person?” Mike asks, smile strained. You frown, turning away from the banners you were fixing.

“Yes! Edgar Valden, our resident painter, our sassy rich boy, our lovely old friend. I say he is lonely, and I think you should talk to him. I mean, you’re easy-going, fun, and silly. Who wouldn’t like you?” Even if half of it was an act. Still, Mike was one of the people Edgar tolerated better than most. Perhaps it’s because he’s another form of an artist?

“Why can’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him yourself? You guys get along just fine.” Mike looks away, fiddling with his hands. You narrow your eyes at the sight.

Mike Morton, local funny man, someone with dedication and deceit running through his veins, nervous? It’s not faked, the sweat rolling down his neck and the faster breathing all indicating he was genuinely nervous. Maybe even scared.

“Edgar, I really do love him, but he needs more friends. I think the only people who talk to him on a regular basis are Luca and I. Adding a few more people to that list would be nice, so…” You bring your hands in front of you, clasped tight as if you’re about to pray. “Could you please talk to him?”

Mike deflates, sighing as he nods. You smile brightly in response, promising to make it up to him.

“Hey bestie! You excited for the new survivor?” Demi croons, grinning as she tosses an arm around your shoulder. You laugh in response, leaning into her.

“That’s about the dumbest thing you could ask me. Of course I am! He’s written so many good books. God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around him. He’s made some stories that have basically shaped who I am now!” You sigh, smiling so widely your face hurts.

“Well, don’t forget your boyfriend in all the excitement! I can see he’s basically seething with envy.”

You pause, turning to look at Demi.

“Who?”

Now, it’s Demi’s turn to look confused.

“Uh, you know, Edgar? Are– are you guys not together?” She asks, genuinely shocked. You feel your face heat up, your hands itching to cover your blush.

“Wh– no! We are not! Why would anyone ever think that?”

Demi gives you a deadpan expression in response.

“You two are basically glued to each other’s side, go into every match together, hang out almost every day– Hell, you’re the only one Edgar has allowed in his room without it being necessary!”

Well, that’s news to you.

You furrow your brows, blinking in shock. Sure, you two hung out a lot, but it wasn’t like you guys were friends exclusively with each other. You had Demi, Mike, Melly, and even Violetta while Edgar had Luca, Victor, Andrew, and Galatea. It wasn’t like you… hung out… every… day…

“Oh fuck, we really do look like a couple.” You mutter, having half a mind to smack Demi as she laughs. She’s completely unapologetic about it, struggling to breathe as slowly calms down and giggles.

“So, you two aren’t dating?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows. You huff, fighting back a smile.

“Nope, not at all.”

“Then in that case, I’m allowed to flirt with you as much as I want!” Demi cheers. She spins you around, causing a laugh to bubble up from your throat. The two of your twirl around in a silly dance, the faint sound of Frederick playing the piano the only background music.

At the end, she dips you down, smile upon her lips. She leans close to your ear as your smile is wiped away.

“Be wary of him.”

With Edgar, it’s like you’re taking three steps forward, then five steps back. Just when you think you’ve got him all figured out, he throws a curveball at you.

That desperation he had in his eyes the day you became his friend, flickering like a brilliant flame, you understand it now. However much he claimed he didn’t need people to understand him, how he didn’t need to understand others, it didn’t mean much. He still craved it, to be understood. To not have to be questioned, to not be approached with dishonesty, with intentions that lied beyond just him being him.

You suppose that’s exactly why you got along. You wanted to understand him, and he wanted to be understood. A match made in Heaven, you suppose.

It’s why it miffed you a bit that you really can’t understand Edgar at the moment.

He hates drawing portraits, yet he draws a figure, the same exact one, in every one of his new pieces. They look familiar, a lot like you, but you’re pretty confident Edgar would rather die than paint you. You’d tease him to Hell and back, all while he complains and swears up and down he’s never being nice to you again.

The landscapes, adorned in reds of all shades, always have that figure in each one without fail. Is he in love with someone? That would explain why he’s so weird lately.

Edgar’s odd behavior was already messing with you, but on top of that, the letters were getting worse. Instead of being slid into your mailbox, they were flat out in your room now.

Normal people would think someone just slipped it under the door. Reasonable assumption. However, unless that person has not only a very thin arm, but a long one, you don’t know how they’d manage to get it all the way to your desk.

You stare at the white envelope, stamped shut with a red seal in the shape of a camellia. The outline of the flower is in gold, though the beauty of the letter and the seal means nothing. Not when it got into your room. Not when it clearly has a splotch of dark red glaring at you.

Your hands are shaky as you open the envelope, a familiar curl of thrill fighting with your new found protective instincts. The letter is white as a dove, the red tainting it made all the more stark.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you read.

‘I didn’t imagine love would be like this. Wonderfully warm, like the rays of the sun in winter, and unbearably painful, like a knife in my heart. Do you just like hurting me? No, I know that isn’t true. After all, you always look at me with concern when I’m injured. Still, it’s hard to believe you’re this dense.

These past few weeks have been driving me mad. Your attention has been solely on the arrival of the new survivor. You’ve been ignoring me so much I can barely stand it. Can’t you spare even a moment for me? Is that novelist really that important? Seeing you look at him with stars in your eyes… it makes me want to rip his head off his shoulders. He doesn’t deserve your attention, nor your admiration, not like I do. I’ve known you longer, loved you for longer. He doesn’t deserve anything from you, yet he gets everything I could ever want and more.

Did you know? When you’re excited, your smile turns bigger, more genuine, till dimples show. Your eyes crinkle just a little, your hands moving to curl in front of your chest. You stand taller, you shine brighter.

It’s such a beautiful sight, I hate that I have to share it. Sometimes, I wish I could just put you in a cage and never let you go. Then, you wouldn’t look at anyone else but me. You wouldn’t think about anyone else but me. But, that’s not how you should live. You deserve to be free and happy. So, I’ve decided to get rid of anyone that doesn’t deserve to be around you.

I think I’ll start with that novelist.’

Your blood runs cold.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Just who is this? Who are they and just why are they so obsessed with you? Get rid of those who don’t deserve you? Who gave them the right to decide that!?

You take a deep breath, desperately trying to calm your nerves. Your heart is racing, and for the first time, the thrill in your heart turns into true fear.

You’ve never minded being the one hunted. In fact, you practically adore it, the addicting rush of adrenaline pumping through you. It’s why you came to the manor. But your friends? They’re not the same, and you wouldn’t want them to be. You want them safe and happy, not hunted down by some freak who thinks they “aren’t worthy of you” for whatever sick reason.

“Fuck, fuck… Orpheus, I need to find– no, it’s probably too late for him, there’s blood on the letter. Okay, okay, stay calm, stay fucking calm. Who would be the next victim? Mike? Melly? No, it’s probably Ed–” You pause.

Almost comically, everything clicks in place.

Camellias.

Red.

Ignoring them.

Edgar.

You bolt out of your room.

Normally, you’d knock. You know Edgar hates it when people barge into his room. However, considering the circumstances, you think that’s the least of your concerns.

You can’t help but pray in your mind. To whom? You don’t know. You don’t think anyone can truly help in this situation. It couldn’t be anyone else but Edgar, but still, you prayed. You hoped against all hope that your conclusion was wrong.

Edgar would scold you for barging in, sigh, before smiling and asking if you were really that desperate to see him. Everything would be fine. It would all be just a cruel joke.

But just as life is more mundane than fantasy, reality is far cruller than fiction.

The large windows to Edgar’s room let in the light of the falling sun, casting the room in many shades of gold and orange. In the middle of the room, in all his glory, is Edgar. His back is to you, paint brush in hand. You’re hit first by relief, then with the heavy scent of iron.

You shake, hands covering your mouth as you finally process what's around Edgar. Orpheus, drained of blood, head sat on a chair, body left haphazardly on the ground. Jack, ghastly white and face twisted, his horror eternally memorialized in death. Demi, eyes closed and serene, seemingly asleep if not for the purple veins that roam along her arms.

You fall to your knees, the shock hitting you so strong you can’t stand up any longer. He was your secret admirer. The one who kept sending letters. The one who went into your room just to place them on your desk. The one who threatened to kill your friends. The one who did kill your friends.

Edgar, finally, turns around. His cheek has splotches of blood on it, his hands no better. It’s startling just how much of it is on him, but worse yet, you know not all of it is on him. There’s a lot of blood in a human body, much more in two, so where was it?

When he smiles, it’s just as sweet as it was yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. Was this really your friend, or a demon in disguise?

His smile, ever so sweet, only serves to unsettles you, looking more like a nightmare.

“Ah, you’re here! Come, I need to show you my newest masterpiece.” Edgar steps closer to you, dragging you by the hand to a canvas you hadn’t noticed before. He was standing in front of it, so it was only natural.

You numbly follow, heart in your throat. You’re grateful, distantly, that the “masterpiece” is not the corpses of your friends. You think you’re going to throw up, eyes trying to look at anything but them.

So, you gladly look at his so-called masterpiece.

You really wish you didn’t.

There, on the canvas, is a portrait. This time, it’s so painfully obvious it’s you that you can’t even deny it. Surrounded by red camellias, hands curled in front of their chest, with a smile so genuine, dimples showed. Eyes crinkled, back straight, and God, did it have to be so accurate?

The red of the camellias are familiar, as is the red of your blush, the colors of your clothes, your hair.

It’s all been painted using your friend’s blood.

Edgar comes behind you, his arms circling your waist. A content sigh leaves him, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hold is gentle, but firm, possessive in a way you never thought him capable of. His lips brush against your neck, a kiss much like a collar pressed into your skin. You can feel them curl into a smile.

“What do you think, my muse? The red means I love you.”

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv edgar #idv painter #edgar valden x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

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