#i was going back rereading some of the smut scenes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

empresskylo · 2 years

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𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 「 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 」 r.h. masterlist

━━━━━‧₊˚➛ hopper regrets his building feelings for you, deciding it's best to cut this fling off before you learn to regret it.

pairing ‧₊˚➛ jim hopper x afab!reader

tags ‧₊˚➛18+ content, smut || unprotected sex, age gap, blood, angst, reader described as small and having hair that can be tucked behind ear. reader refers to self as a 'girl'.

w.c.‧₊˚➛ 7434

a.n. ‧₊˚➛ sorry for the wait, but here is the final part to ride home. as you can see, it's longer than usual which is why it took so long. i hope you enjoy! (and yes, this is the final part)

masterlist. navi.

A few weeks had passed since that night Jim Hopper touched you under the dining room table.

Things with Hopper had been going… good. And if by good you meant that you were having sex any time you saw one another and blatantly ignoring the rising feelings stirring inside each of your chests. Then, yeah, things were going good.

Just tell him! A voice rose in the back of your throat like hot bile. You shoved it down. Nope, you weren’t going to bring it up. Isn’t that how things were always ruined? The woman catches feelings and makes things incredibly awkward to the point where the relationship is cut off entirely. You didn’t want to lose Hopper, so you were just going to have to tough it out and accept the fact that he only wanted you for sex.

But what you didn’t know was that Hopper was fighting the exact same feeling. It’s maddening how blind the two of you were. For God’s sake, Jim almost moaned out an ‘I love you’ while he was balls deep inside of you the other day. You convinced yourself that you just misheard him.

Jim pushed you down further into his mattress, his cock hitting you so hard that you had to muffle your cries afraid they would break his eardrum. His hand was locked in your hair and your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. Your soft whines underneath him were sending him over the edge. Your eyes fluttered up at him as he kept rolling his hips into you. “Jim…” You mumbled, completely entranced. You looked like an angel under him, glowing in ecstasy as you mewled into his chest. He felt himself begin to spill into you, your head shook side to side as you tried to contain your moans but they slid off your tongue like honey. Jim groaned in your ear, “Fucking hell. You’re so good. So—perfect. Shit, I lov—“ He masked his mistake with a loud moan as you tightened around him at his praise.

Why were you both torturing one another?

Jim fiddled with his pen as he stared down at the same paragraph he had been rereading for the past five minutes. He was busy contemplating a way to get to see you again.

That’s where the stupidity started kicking in. The two of you each decided—without talking to the other person—that this was solely about lust and sex. So your meetings only ever revolved around that. Both of you would have been happy simply talking most of the time (Jim wanted to take you out to dinner so badly and get to see you all dressed up for him.) But you both also thought the other was in this unconventional coupling for a different reason. So, alas, your rendezvous only ever resulted in sex. (Granted, you both craved each other desperately that it wasn’t much of an issue.)

You came up behind Hopper and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around to face you, surprised by your appearance. “I was writing a piece for the school paper.” You shrugged the notepad in your hand towards him. “Can I ask you some questions?” Jim tried to look annoyed, but you were so fucking cute as you innocently requested his time.

“You know I can’t give out information…” You looked up at him with the most pathetically sweet doll eyes, your lips pouting. He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes.

Hopper was the only one at the scene so he decided it wouldn’t be too risky (i.e. he wasn’t very good at hiding his desire for you and it would be blatantly obvious to anyone who witnessed your interactions.)

He walked around to the back of his truck and pulled down the tailgate so you could sit. His hands slid around your waist and he helped you jump up. You felt your cheeks warm, the feeling of his fingers lingering long after he pulled them away. You tried to focus and began writing in your notepad while Hopper leaned his hip against his truck. After a few minutes of questioning, you had gotten what you needed. You both wanted to continue talking to one another, but you’d never admit that. You both thought the other would be irritated. This was clearly only about lust.

“S’that it?” Jim asked. You set your notepad down and reached out and grabbed his hand. “What’re—“ You yanked him towards you so he stood between your legs. His eyes darkened as he tentatively watched your moves. “Just one more thing,” you whispered. Jim’s eyelids fell heavy, your hands slid up to the collar of his shirt and you pulled him in towards you until your lips were connected. His mustache tickled as he kissed you. It made you giggle. That sound almost made Hopper collapse. He was falling for you at an alarming speed. And he knew he could never have you like that. So this would have to be enough.

He grabbed your butt and heaved you towards him, your clothed core pressing against Jim’s rough jeans. He quickly fiddled with his pants, already hard beyond belief, and you did the same with your own. When he finally slid himself into you, bottoming out completely, you both exhaled in relief. He felt so right inside you. You stared up at him, wanting to savor every moment you had with him. He traced your face, you were so perfect. Your lips were parted and he could feel the heat radiating off of your body. He took a moment to take you in entirely before he gave you what you wanted and thrusted in and out of you so that you moaned out his name.

You were sat in your living room, spacing out at the television as you laid horizontally along your couch. Your hand raised to change the channel then lazily collapsed and hung off the couch and onto the floor. You looked up at the ceiling. If only you had an excuse to go visit Hopper at the station. You knew he was working late tonight. Usually, your dad was a good excuse, dropping off his lunch or just checking in with him. But your dad was currently rummaging through a box of old paperwork on the living room floor, huffing to himself as he struggled to find whatever ancient archive he was looking for.

Wait. Your dad didn’t have to be at the station in order for him to act as your wingman. You could simply go pick something up that he ‘forgot’. You stumbled to your feet and ran up the stairs, gaining a curious glance from your father.

You changed and ran out the door, telling your dad you were going to a friend’s house. If you wasted any more time than that, you might have talked yourself out of going.

It was pathetic, really. But you didn’t care, you just wanted to see Jim. The way his grumpy face would slightly soften when you appeared. You loved when he tried to be annoyed with you and would call you silly names. Or the way he would call you kid–like your parent’s friends would– while he was standing before you, rock hard. Your heart fluttered just thinking about it.

Hopper huffed and sat back in his chair, the silent station driving him mad. And just as he thought that, the loud noise of fumbling footsteps sounded outside his office.

Then the footsteps were coming closer, and closer until they were right outside his door. Hopper felt his heart rush. The door creaked open and Flo stepped in, a clutch of paperwork in her arms.

Hopper sighed for the millionth time that night (but what’s new?) His heart resumed to its normal pace and he grumbled something to Flo. “Just received these,” she said, gesturing to the papers in her hands. “Said it was urgent.”

Hopper stood up and sulked over to the door. “Yeah, thanks, Flo. I’ll get right on that.” Hopper took the work from her and she rolled her eyes. “Sure you will.” That gained a smirk from Jim.

She went to turn around but stopped, then spoke over her shoulder. “Oh, and you have a visitor.”

Jim turned back to his office door and saw Flo slip away down the hall and your frame appear where hers just was.

You meekly waved at him. Hopper set the folder down on his desk and turned to you, leaning on the edge of his desk.

“Are you stalking me?” He teased.

“I can leave if you want.”

Hopper shook his head, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks. “No. It’s fine. You can come in.”

You shyly slipped into his office, closing the door as you did.

When you turned to face Hopper again, he saw the look of worry spread across your face. But it wasn’t his place to ask.

“My dad had left some stuff in his desk he needed. Thought I’d stop in and say ‘hello’.”

Hopper grinned. “Oh, yeah? You just wanted to say hi? Nothing more?”

You felt a chill run up your spine. Shit. Did you really sound that desperate?

You stuttered, “No-no, I just—I—“

“I’m just messin’ with ya, kid.”

Hopper hated to see this anguish plastered blankly across your face. You barely even smiled at him. Maybe you were finally regretting wasting your time with him and realized you made a mistake sleeping with this mean, old grump.

Hopper paused before pushing himself off of his desk, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He sat down in his chair, his legs spread wide as he leaned on his thighs.

You approached him, leaning your hip on the edge of his desk.

His eyes scanned yours and he felt himself try to hold back what he wanted to say. He couldn’t keep being selfish. You were clearly ruining your life being with Hopper. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic, but still. You were obviously going through something that was making you rebel. What better way than to sleep with your dad’s boss? (Well, technically Hopper wasn’t his boss. But that’s beside the point.) This was never going to sit well on your conscience once you grew up and had an epiphany about all your poor choices. And Hopper didn’t want to be remembered as one of your mistakes.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” He gestured between the two of you. “Actually, it’s an awful idea and I’m sorry for keeping it going for so long.”

You rolled your eyes. “God, not this again. I’ll admit, it was kinda hot when you saw the ambivalence of the situation, but it’s getting old, Hop.”

“See, that’s what I’m saying. Even you realize that this is wrong.”

“That’s not what I—“

He said your name breathlessly, his fingers coming up to pinch between his brows in annoyance. “It’s just… What are we gonna do?” His voice was raising in tempo and it made you feel small. “Just keep fucking around, until what? How long are we gonna drag this shit out?”

“Hopper, I—“

“Listen, I know you probably thought it was cool to rebel or whatever and seduce the chief of police, but this isn’t going anywhere. And I can’t keep sleeping around with a high schooler. Fuck.”

You felt tears well in your eyes. “I graduate in a month.”

Jim sighed. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make.”

“So, you’re just done? Just like that? Because… Because you’re worried about my choices? Because of what everyone in town would think about you if they found out?” Your words were laced with fire.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” he said coolly, but his heart was hurting as he watched your eyes puddle with tears. It was all a facade.

A tear betrayed you and rolled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away. Jim’s eyes flickered, breaking his mask for a moment, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around you. “Why can’t you just admit you don’t like me instead of making up such dumb excuses!” Your hands balled up in fists. Jim didn’t say anything. “Fine. Whatever.” You spun around and stormed out. And by the time you made it to the end of the hall, you knew Jim wasn’t chasing after you. He wasn’t going to stop you from leaving. No, he wanted you to leave.

That was not how you thought the night was going to go.

A few weeks had passed and unlike before when you tried to jump Jim’s bones every chance you got, you spent your time avoiding him at all costs.

You felt like you might burst into tears just seeing his face.

You sat on the bleachers, watching the Hawkin’s High basketball team race up and down the court. Your best friend grabbed your arm, whispering something about how cute one of the guys on the other team was. You nodded your head feigning agreement.

You watched, bored beyond belief. This wasn’t usually your thing. You only came because your friend dragged you here. On the far side of the gym, you spotted a burly man in a tan hat step in through the doors. Hopper.

You tried to sink down into your seat. Your eyes shifted to focus on the game but they kept darting to Hopper’s figure in the corner of the gymnasium. You watched as Jim was saying something to your principal, it seemed important based on the way they were speaking and gesturing.

You shook your head and looked back at the players on the court. You instinctively started to pick at your nails, the skin around them beginning to bleed.

The crowd began to roar–Jason Carver just scored. The people around you stood up and cheered, you think you heard Steve Harrington yelling something behind you but all you could make out was something about ‘Sinclair’ and ‘kicking ass’. Your friend looked down at you and nudged your arm, confused as to why you seemed to be so disinterested.

As the crowd settled down again and slowly fell back into their seats, your gaze wandered to the far side of the court once more. Your eyes widened, Jim was looking directly at you. You both held each other’s line of vision for a moment, his pupils narrowing in on you. You quickly looked away, your cheeks feeling abnormally warm.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like watching the game anymore. “I’m gonna go get some air,” you said in your friend's ear.

“Want me to come?” She asked.

You shook your head and gave her a weak smile, “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, her eyes still suspicious as she watched you push past classmates to get down to the gym floor.

Your arms wrapped around yourself, feeling small, as you pushed open the doors and stepped out into the night air. The rumble of the game became soft, locked within the school’s brick walls.

You jumped down the stairs and walked over into the parking lot. You didn’t know where you were going, but you had to clear your head.

A few voices carried in the wind off in the distance; some students were trying to be subtle about the fact that they were smoking. You went in the opposite direction until you were on the grass lawn, hidden from the street lamps.

You sat down on the single, lonely bench, sighing as you tried to shake Hopper from your mind. You were so fucking stupid. How could you possibly think Jim Hopper, the fucking chief of police, would be interested in you? Like really interested in you. You were young and had teased him hopelessly for months, of course, he was going to act. Why wouldn’t he? But you wanted more than that.

So stupid, you told yourself as you buried your head in your hands. You tried to hold back sobs, you were already pathetic enough as it was.

A ruffling in the trees past the school’s lawn startled you. Your head shot up. “Hello?” You said quietly. You paused and listened for a moment thinking it might have been those students you saw earlier. You were just being silly, nothing was there.

You pulled your legs up on the bench and into your chest. Maybe you should go back, your friend would be wondering where you went.

The sound of crunching, like a dog devouring a meal, made you jump. Okay, now you were freaking out a little bit. You sat up on the bench, fully alert. Your heart was racing in your chest making it hard to hear anything apart from your pounding heartbeat. Branches breaking got closer and closer to you. You were on your feet and backing up.

That's when you saw it. It was like a person wearing a Halloween mask, but it wasn’t a costume. The bloody skin of the creature reflected in the moonlight, its stature a good three feet taller than you. Your eyes were pried wide open as you backed away, gulping. The creature slowly approached you. You backed away and tripped on a rock, falling to your butt. You made a frightened gasp. The creature came darting toward you. You turned and began crawling away, trying to stand up as you did. You were too scared to even scream out.

Red hot pain flared on your ankle, the claws from the monster were tearing into your flesh.

You groaned, yelling for help now. You tried to kick it off of you, your foot stomping on its large mangled hands making it shriek. “What the fuck,” you said breathlessly.

You managed to get to your feet but you could hear the monster following right behind you, its hand grabbed your shoulder, making you scream.

Bang.

You fell to your knees, the claw slacking its hold and then disappearing altogether.

Bang.

You couldn’t hear anything but the ringing of gunshots bouncing around your skull. You turned, looking at the creature struggling in pain. It had already been wounded and now it had two bullet holes burning through its skin. It looked at you, though you couldn’t spot any eyes, then it turned and ran back off into the forest.

You collapsed on the grass, your hand coming to rest on your head in exhaustion and confusion.

Jim’s frame hovered above you, directly in your line of view. He leaned down and pulled you up, scooping you into his arms bridal style. You could see his mouth moving but you couldn’t make anything out; the ringing washing over everything.

“What was that… thing?” You asked. You were sat atop Jim’s dining table as he rummaged in his bathroom for a first aid kit. You had only been to his place once before and you didn’t get a good look. You glanced around, taking in all his things.

“I have no fucking idea,” he called out to you.

Your legs swung underneath you as you anxiously fidgeted. Your nails came up to your mouth, this was not good. You were stuck in Hopper’s home, in such close proximity. Nothing good could come from this.

Hopper came stomping out of the bathroom with his arms full of an array of random medical supplies. You raised your brow, eyeing him as he set it down on the table beside you. He noticed your glare. “S’all I got,” he shrugged.

He grabbed some spray and a cloth and grabbed your foot. You jumped, his warm fingers grazing your skin. You tried not to think about his hands on your leg as he attempted to clean the wound.

You cleared your throat. “Hop, it’s barely a scratch, I think I’m fine.”

Jim felt his gut lurch when you said his name. “Don’t know where that freaky fuck came from, better safe than sorry and clean it out.”

You slouched back on your hands as you reluctantly let him clean the wound, holding back a smile at his word choice. His fingers tickled as he held your ankle, grabbing a roll of medical bandage wrap, and winding it around the cut. When it was fully dressed, he held your foot still in his hand, his finger pads lingering on your exposed ankle. He slowly looked up at you and immediately released your leg, standing up awkwardly. He grunted and scooped up all the shit he laid out moments earlier and brought it back into the bathroom.

You slid off the table and aimlessly circled his kitchen, hoping he would take you home now. Jim appeared behind you and said your name, reaching out and touching your shoulder. “Ow!” You jumped.

His hand reclined and you both looked to where his fingers just were. Blood was beginning to seep through your shirt. “Shit,” you muttered.

“Fuck, he got you there too?”

“I guess. I think it grabbed my shoulder.” You went to move your shirt and hissed as it clung against the sticky blood.

Jim went to the sink and wrung out a warm cloth, handing it to you. You walked over to him and took it, giving him a passive look. He leaned back against the sink as you tried to move your shirt to the side. You winced and looked up at him.

“Come here,” he mumbled.

You stepped a bit closer and he took the cloth from you, dabbing it on the area to loosen the shirt. He slowly pulled the clothing away from the cut and placed the warm cloth on top of it as a compress. He held it there, his eyes flickering to yours. You gulped. Your cheeks were on fire.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll get you another shirt.”

He turned and went to his bedroom. “No, Jim. It’s fine. I can just change at home.”

Of course, Hopper being Hopper, he walked back out with one of his shirts anyways. He wasn’t going to make you sit in a bloody–and now wet–shirt. He stuck his hand out to you to give you the clothing. His eyes shifted between you and the fabric uncomfortably. Your fingers tentatively reached up and you paused for a moment, your chest racing. “Thank you,” you said meekly.

You grabbed the shirt and Hopper rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ll go put the stuff away…” Hopper said awkwardly.

You nodded and he slowly turned around to go put away the stuff he left on the bathroom sink.

Once Hopper was in the bathroom again you slowly tore your shirt from your body. You winced slightly but once the shirt was off the cut, you felt much better. You looked over at your shoulder. “Shit, it’s not even that bad,” you mumbled, annoyed for acting like such a baby. You grabbed the cloth and started to dab up the stained blood.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I—“

You jumped and looked up at Hopper who was standing wide-eyed in the doorway. You felt a heat rise to your chest and face.

You stared at him, expecting him to shy away and let you finish changing, but he didn’t. He just watched you. You cleared your throat, your arms coming up to lay across your chest (but it’s not like Hopper hadn’t seen it all before.) “Uh. Hop…” You said, shaking your head a bit.

He still didn’t say anything. He stepped closer towards you so he was only inches from your exposed body. “Hop…” You said breathlessly again.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You took in a sharp breath. You looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze. “You can’t…” you stuttered. “Don’t say that to me.”

His fingers surprised you as they touched your jaw and tilted your head up towards him. Your words got lost in your throat. Hopper couldn’t help himself. He slowly leaned in, watching your eyes flutter under him. Your lips parted, you couldn’t seem to stop either. Hopper’s nose rested against yours and his lips teased your own. He breathed your name softly then closed the gap. You felt your body immediately cave into his touch, your knees buckling and your head sinking lower. Jim’s arms wrapped around you to hold you up, moving his lips in rhythm with yours.

Jim’s hands slid around your back, gently pulling your hips into him. He grunted as your body collided with his, your skin incredibly soft under his touch. You pulled away, shaking your head slightly. Hopper looked at you with such certainty, his fingers coming up to trace your unharmed shoulder and then sliding into your hair.

You wouldn’t look up at him, you were too embarrassed. Instead, you focused on his chest as you spoke. Hopper’s fingers continued to play with your hair, lost in thought. “I can’t…”

Jim softly said your name.

You felt hot tears well in your eyes. You shied away, afraid of him seeing you like this. Pathetic. “I’m sorry I ruined things.” Your voice was small.

Hopper’s hands fell to his side.

“You didn’t ruin-“

“I did!” The tears began running down your hot cheeks. “I was getting attached. I was being stupid. So fucking stupid,” your voice got quiet. “I shouldn’t have tricked you like that.”

Jim’s eyes stayed focused on you. “Tricked me?”

“Yeah. It was all just a fun hook-up to you. But I had… I have liked you for a while now.” Jim raised a brow at you. You paused before continuing, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s stupid, but I had a crush on you.” You tried to laugh but it sounded more like a struggling snort as tears kept falling.

Jim closed his eyes, thoughts racing around his head. You gulped as you peered up at him. You just ruined your chances of this ever working out. He might have been a grump, but he wasn’t mean. Once he realized you liked him like that, he wouldn’t lead you on. He’d cut things off for good.

You jumped slightly when you felt Jim’s warm fingers brush along the side of your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. Your breathing hitched in the back of your throat, his eyes were dark, but not like how they usually looked. They were filled with something other than lust.

He whispered your name and you felt your heart flutter.

“That’s not what it was to me.” His words were soft. You wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he spoke any quieter. Your lips parted. He leaned down towards you, your lips drawing closer and closer to one another. “I fell in love with you.” His thumb came up and wiped away your wet cheeks.

You made a noise in the back of your throat. “Y-You did?”

Jim’s mouth ever so slightly turned up before he connected his lips with yours. You felt your body go loose as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him. His hand came up to rest on your cheek as he kissed you deeper. Breathlessly, he pulled away. “I thought if I pushed you away, I could prevent you from getting ruined.”

“Ruined?”

“Yeah. What good could come from a big grump falling for a sweet thing like you? You got your whole life ahead of you, kid. I didn’t want you wasting it hooking up with me. So you could get back at your parents? To prove you were mature? I don’t know, but I didn’t want you to regret this,” he motioned between your two bodies.

You felt a smile form on your lips. “And I thought I was the one foolishly-in-love-when-it-was-only-meant-to-be-a-fling.”

He pushed your hair back as he admired you. “Still don’t want you to regret this.” You could hear the worry laced in his words.

Your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt. “No. I…” You paused. “I want you, Hopper. For more than just sex.” His eyes dropped, his hands falling on top of yours as you clung to him. “I know what you’re thinking.” He eyed you. “That your feelings for me are wrong. How you can’t possibly fall for someone like me, let alone hook up with. You’re the chief of police. And I’m just some dumb girl who likes older men apparently. It would never—“ Jim cut you off, smiling as he kissed you.

You were right. That’s exactly what he was thinking. But fuck it. He wasn’t sure how he could manage knowing you liked him the way he liked you if he just pushed you away again. Screw what everyone else thought. You could both worry about that when you got to it. But right now, Jim desperately needed you.

You fervently kissed him back, both of your breathing increasing. “Jim-” you mumbled between kisses.

“Mhm?”

“You’re not gonna–push me away–again after–are you?” you managed to get out as Hopper attacked your face.

He paused. “Not if you want me. I can worry about what Hawkins thinks later. I don’t give a fuck what they have to say–” it was your turn to cut him off. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into you. His mustache tickled your nose as he kissed you. His hands found their way to your exposed hips, sliding up and brushing the back of your bra.

Jim pushed you back so you wobbled to the couch. Your legs hit the side and you sat on the arm of his couch. Jim was quickly between your knees, his hand behind your head as he pulled you into him. When he pulled back to get a breath, his eyes couldn’t tear away from you. Your face was stained with tears, but that only made your eyes stand out more. Your hair had been ruffled by Jim’s large hands, and your lips were swollen.

“What?” you asked, suddenly shy under his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You felt your cheeks flush. Jim pushed your hair behind your ear and placed a kiss on your exposed shoulder. His fingers traced along your bra strap and down to your back where he unclipped it. You felt goosebumps rise in his trail. His fingers gently lifted your straps off, making sure not to touch the cut along your shoulder, and threw your bra to the floor. His eyes ravaged you. You were about to speak, feeling shy, but Jim was faster. His lips grazed your nipple, making you gasp. He drew it into his mouth, sucking and nipping you softly. You felt your eyes flutter and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Jesus,” you breathed.

Jim felt himself grin, loving getting a reaction out of you. His hands rested on your hips as he kissed your chest. He hooked your jeans in his fingers and began to wiggle them. You lifted your hips up so he could yank them down. His hands grabbed your thighs immediately, squeezing them and letting his thumb rub small circles along them. His head came up to kiss your neck and jaw, his stubble leaving tingles in their wake.

You grabbed his biceps, holding on to him as he nuzzled the side of your neck. A small moan left your lips and that was enough to send Jim into overdrive. His hips came slamming into your own, the roughness of his jeans gliding against your clothed clit. His hands were around your jaw, both of them pulling you in for a hard kiss, his tongue sliding along your lips and into your mouth. He grunted when he felt your hips roll into him, your legs wrapping around his thighs and pulling him into you.

Hopper couldn’t handle it anymore, he needed you.

He scooped you up into his arms gaining a squeal from you. He moved you to the couch cushions and laid you down before him. He tore his shirt and pants off in one quick motion, then placed himself on top of you, kissing you into the couch. Your fingers ran through his tawny hair, your legs struggled to wrap back around Jim’s waist. His hand slipped between your bodies and into your underwear. You gasped when you felt him touch you. He began to rub small circles across your core, your body already wet and ready for him.

One of his fingers slid to your entrance and rubbed between your lips, feeling the way you were overflowing. “All this for me?” His voice was far deeper than earlier.

You looked up at him, your eyes big and sweet. “Mhm,” you cooed.

Jim removed his hand and slid it up your side then squeezed one of your breasts. You felt sad at the loss of his touch between your thighs. “I want you inside me, Jim.”

His eyes darted to yours, his pupils blown. You swallowed hard as he stared at you. You felt his hard length press against your thigh and you rolled into him.

“Fuck,” he cursed. You reached down and wiggled your underwear off before grabbing the hem of Jim’s and urging it down. Jim followed your lead and tore his boxers off before nestling himself back between your legs. You could feel his cock pressing against your clit as he put his weight onto you. He kissed your jaw again while his hands grabbed himself and began to rub his tip against you. You moaned, your face heating up and he teased you.

“God, Jim. Please!” You begged pathetically.

Jim used his hands to push your hips down and prevent you from jutting your hips up towards him. You pouted. “I’m right here, baby.” He said softly. “No need to rush. I wanna savor you.”

Your chest thumped loudly. Hopper kissed your cheek and then ground his hips against you, his cock dragging along your core. You both moaned as he continued to do it. One of your legs were buried in the couch cushions and unable to wrap around Jim, so only one of your legs came up to rest on him. Jim’s hand instinctively went to your thigh as you lifted your leg to drape around him. He used that as leverage to rub against your harder. You bit your lip as you held back a yelp.

Without warning, Jim thrusted himself into you. You gasped in shock as he filled you up. Jim grunted above you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You clenched around him, making him grumble into your hair, sending vibrations throughout your body.

He let you adjust to him as you squirmed beneath his weight. “Jim. Move,” you said in a breathless tone, desperate to feel him pump inside you.

His hands wrapped around you and he began to thrust in and out. Your head arched backward as he hit you deep. Jim growled as he felt your walls spasm around his cock. You mewled in response, your vision dizzy as Jim rutted into your hips.

You felt all your sadness from earlier sink away and you were filled with warmth instead. Both of you forgot all about the monster you encountered. You were pretty sure you both would keep fucking even if that thing had burst through the window. You couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t let him.

You bucked your hips up each time Jim bottomed out, forcing him to hit you as deep as possible. You cried out in pleasure. “Fuck, baby,” he grunted.

Hopper was already so close, and you desperately thrusting against him wasn’t going to help things. He wasn’t going to last. (So much for savoring it.) His hands found your hair and he fisted it, his voice growing deep as he growled. He began to hit you long and hard as he pumped his length in and out of you. He felt his fist squeeze tightly in your hair when he felt your walls clench around him. And just like that, he was done for. Jim groaned so lowly that you could feel the vibrations tickle your stomach.

Jim let out a long, dragged-out ‘fuck’ as he began to come inside of you. Your own orgasm followed suit, your legs shaking as Jim filled you up. His hot seed seeped out around his cock as he thrusted through his high, obscene noises filling Jim’s quiet place.

You arched your back into Jim’s chest, bucking your hips up against him over and over as he kept spilling himself into you. Jim moaned as you sucked every last drop from his cock, draining him completely.

He began to slow his thrusts, your nails digging into Jim’s back as your high faded to a pleasant sense of ecstasy. Jim collapsed on top of you, his weight pushing you into the couch. He gently pulled himself from between your legs and a pool of his seed rushed out of you.

He kissed your cheek before scooping you up and rolling over so you laid on top of his chest.

His breathing was deep and his hand wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

You rested your head against him, your hand coming up to rub small circles on his chest, catching your own breath. “I love you,” he whispered.

You looked up at him, your cheek still pressed against him. “You do?”

He chuckled and you felt it rumble through your body. “Mhm.” He grinned at you, brushing his fingers against your jaw.

You kissed his chest. Then kissed him again. And again. Leaving a trail of kisses up to his lips. You had to crawl and shift your body so you were in line with his face as you placed a warm kiss on his lips. His arm squeezed around you.

You straddled him as you deepened the kiss, a small groan building in the back of your throat. You gently rolled your hips into him, your wet pussy dragging against him as you did.

Jim grumbled something into the kiss and you felt him grow hard beneath you again.

You giggled. “Round two?”

His hands came down to squeeze your ass and pulled your waist harder against him. You took that as a yes.

You squirmed on top of him, placing delicate kisses along his jaw and to his collarbone as he did to you earlier. Jim felt his cheeks blush at your touch, your soft lips like heaven against his rough skin.

You slowly slid down so your hips were in line with Jim’s. Then you took his cock in your hand, earning a grunt from Jim, and lined him up with you again. You could already feel yourself pulsing with anticipation, wanting him to fill you like before. You slowly sank down on him, his hands resting against your soft waist. You both gasped, looking at one another with parted lips.

He stretched you out slowly, your body needing time to adjust to him again. It was almost painful how well he filled you. You finally sank down on him completely, letting your full weight lay against him. You felt Jim’s hips buck slightly beneath you, his hands eagerly rubbing against your hips and thighs. You lifted off of him gently, letting his cock slide out of you painfully slow.

Jim’s breath got caught in his throat, his cock already dripping in precum. You lazily took him all in again, sitting flesh against him. He growled, his head pressing up against your cervix. You felt his fingers dig into your skin. You began to lightly bounce on top of him, making his fingers press harder and harder into you. Your hands rested against his chest as you rode him, your mouth letting little whimpers escape.

You felt every ridge of his cock glide against you, your clit bumping against Jim as you sank down on him. You couldn’t help but let little cries weep out of your mouth as you took him in.

Your bounces stayed at the same pace and Jim couldn’t take it any longer. He grunted as he gripped your hips and began bucking his hips up into you and pulling you down to meet his thrusts. You moaned, his body slapping against yours. Jim began bucking up consistently, pulling you into him each time. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Jim took control, wanting to hit you as hard as he could. Your fingers curled into Jim’s chest, your body trembling as Jim thrusted against you.

“Jim, I–” your words barely made it out before you were moaning again. You were so close. Your cries came out staggered as Jim jerked into you, making your voice waver. You cursed and mumbled under your breath, your eyes lazily looking down at Hopper. His own met yours, both of your eyelids feeling heavy.

Jim shifted beneath you slightly and began to hit you at just the right spot. It made you cry out in pure pleasure. You have never felt this good before. You felt your walls clench around him, your legs wanting to squeeze together as they pressed against Jim.

You felt your high approaching, your body going limp as Jim kept his pace. You mewled, another orgasm flowing through you. Your walls clamped down on Jim’s cock, squeezing against him and making him growl. He began squirting inside you, giving you what little he had left.

You both were a mess as you groaned and muttered swears under your breath. Your eyes stayed locked with Jim’s, even if they were both laced with exhaustion. You helped him as he slowed and bounced on top of him, dragging out your highs. You both cried out, his seed spilling out around his cock and onto both of your thighs.

You hindered your speed as you felt your body cave with warmth. You finally stopped and leaned over, collapsing on top of Jim. His arms pulled you into him, his chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths.

You mewled as the aftershock hit you, making you shake on top of him. Jim let you ride out your high with his cock still buried deep inside you.

After a few long moments, you paused, your hands wrapped tightly around Hopper. “I love you too,” you breathed.

You felt Hopper chuckle against you, his hands rubbing small patterns along your back as he held you.

You both wanted to stay like this and forget the rest of the world, bodies pressed flesh with one another, and Hopper’s cock buried inside you with his seed filling you up. You felt your eyes flutter shut as Jim’s fingers danced across your back. Sleep began to overtake the both of you as you snuggled up into Jim. You felt him harden inside you again and he groaned in pain.

You muffled noises into his chest, your hands clenching into fists as you felt him inside of you. You huffed as you began to rub up and down, your body flat against Jim’s. His cock slowly slid in and out of you as you lazily rolled your hips up and down. Your clit dragged along Hopper’s stomach making you whine. Both of your eyes remained shut and Hopper’s arms held you in a hug. You whined again, feeling tired as you rocked against Jim. You picked up your speed slightly, your chest never raising from Jim’s.

Jim’s arms, wrapped around you, pulled you up to help you up as you rolled your hips against him. Your both groaned, your pussy painfully aroused as Jim’s cock began squirting his seed into you again. You let out a vocal cry as you began to shake on top of him, coming for the third time that night.

Jim held you close and helped you gently roll on his cock, his chest vibrating as he overflowed your cunt with his seed. It pooled out around your bodies, creating a sticky mess on both of your thighs. You mewled, your walls clenching Jim as you came with him.

After a few more tired thrusts, you stopped and sighed into Jim’s chest, letting him drip out around you. He slowly pulled out of you and his cock sprang out, rubbing up against your ass as he did. You groaned, your legs trembling beneath you as the last of your high rode through your body.

Jim leaned forward and placed a kiss on your head, soft snores sounding from your small frame. He smiled, feeling like he didn’t deserve this kind of contentment. He hugged you tighter, hoping you’d never leave him. And he fell asleep shortly after.

#jim hopper #jim hopper smut #hopper #hopper smut #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper fanfic #stranger things #stranger things smut #smut #hopper st4 #chief jim hopper #chief hopper #jim hopper x reader #insert fic #hopper x reader #stranger things hopper

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atzfilm · 10 months

Text

— clair de lune. (m) - finale

genre; yandere, vampire!au, reincarnation! au angst, smut

pairing; ot8/f.reader, 21.2k~

warnings; major character death, manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood, smut (dubious), gaslighting, prior abuse/assault mentioned, knives, wounds, mass murder mention, blood exchanging, lying, mass delusions

summary; you’ve finally gotten the chance to enter “clair de lune”, a infamous nightclub to see the band hiraeth. but why did you feel like their eyes only watched you?

note: this fic deals with the subject of yandere. with that being said, a lot of the things happening in this fiction will be manipulation, gaslighting, and various other techniques displayed by the characters. if you are not comfortable with that, please do not read.

thank you to my best friend @hongism rereading for me .. <3

Chapter 8:

“He brought her to where Yeosang is,” Yunho says softly, watching his friend pace back and forth. Endearing how worried he seems to be, though they all know the likely end of this. You will never be convinced to become one of them, and their time is slowly ticking down. Yunho himself wouldn’t mind turning you now, so that he may deal with the decades of anger sooner rather than later. The others, excluding Wooyoung, not so much. Especially Song Mingi, biting his lip as he ponders his thoughts.

Though Mingi showed a tough facade to you in the beginning, he has always been softer. Blunt, sure, but his worry seems to supersede everyone else’s. There was a time that it burdened him too heavily for any of the others to pull him out, Yunho barely succeeding at doing so. Seeing him close to what he was like before does bother Yunho, but there is surely some way out of this situation.

“You’re letting this worry you too much, Mingi,” Yunho says, flipping through another page of his comic. He snorts at the dialogue. His gaze moved to Mingi’s feet, seeming to burn a path into the hardwood. Despite wanting to finish the book - he’s lingered on the same chapter for a while - he places it to the side, trying to meet the eyes of his best friend. “Hongjoong won’t let her be hurt.”

“Yeosang gets into these sprees when he’s too overwhelmed. I’m worried he won’t see y/n when he’s there. There's a chance–"

“Nonsense,” Yunho waves him off. “He’ll smell her before anything else. Might pull him out of his rage.”

“Might is not definitive.”

“She will pull him out of it, all right? Mingi, don’t let this affect you so much.”

Mingi closes his eyes for a moment, thinking. “It’s as if everyone else can worry but me. Don’t look at me like that. Nothing will happen this time, not like before.”

Though Yunho doesn’t respond, that only seems to fuel Mingi further. He slowly starts his pacing again, fingers digging into the palms of his hands. It’s not enough to break skin, no, but Yunho watches as he begins to lose himself in his thoughts. Interrupting will only worsen the situation so instead, he waits for him to understand his thoughts, to think it through before saying something. Mingi stops, looking back at Yunho.

“Could Yeosang have been right this whole time?”

“Min…”

“I know,” he holds up his hand. “I know that he’s stuck in his head just like I am. But should we just dismiss his thoughts? Should we let ourselves go through all of this again? She’s died once before Yunho, and it feels like it’ll happen sooner rather than later. We’re taking the same path.”

“We’re not. We aren’t even pirates this time. It’s different, Mingi,” Yunho sighs, rubbing his face. “I haven’t shoved blood down her throat. And I doubt any of us will.”

“You’re not listening to me-“

“What do you want me to say?!” His voice rises as he stands from the couch. “Tell you that I’d rather live another one hundred torturous years than force her to turn? Because that’s not what I want, and I know that’s not what you want either. We don’t want her to die. But if we let her live a full life without attempting to turn her, we all will suffer without her being around.”

“But what if that's what she wants?"

Yunho narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Why are we so selfish to force our ideals when it’s not what she desires? Yeosang has been a shell of himself ever since he turned. Why do we assume that she will be the same as she is now? In fact,” his gaze is glued to the floor. “If she is the same, turning her will only exemplify her emotions. Her hate toward us will turn into pure abhorment.”

“Waiting hundreds of years knowing she’s alive is better than letting her life cycle restart.”

He holds in his horror at his words. Mingi knew that Rose's death affected Yunho horribly, especially knowing that he was the one that forced her to murder in the beginning. But speaking of you as if you're not your own person? Mingi decides it is best to no longer try and convince his friend. “You’re right,” he lets the lie slip through his anger. “We cannot endure this again, can we?”

“Have you not seen us?” Yunho snorts, slowly sinking back into the cushions. “Our self-torture can only go on but so far. It will be all fine in the end, Min. Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t.”

You’re not safe.

Hongjoong drags you through the front door, ignoring how you try to fight against his hold. It almost seems amusing to him, the slight smirk upon his lips, quirk of his brow. Enjoyment encasing his features. As if he finally has you and won’t let you go.

Your head is clearer now, absolute. Despite how kind any of them are – including Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi – they will never let you leave. It’s almost humorous to even think that they would have; each time you stepped a foot out of their gaze it was like you committed a felony. How unwise of you not to notice it sooner. It scares you how easily they’ve dug themselves into every part of your life - taking your home away, your friends. You’re sure there was influence on you applying for employment as well. Taking every escape away from you, keeping you to themselves.

“She will learn her place,” Hongjoong says, the grip on your arm so tight it feels as if he’ll pull it right from its socket. No matter how hard you tug he seems to ignore it, walking calmly pass the other men in the living area. The absence of Yeosang and Mingi is blatantly obvious, but you no longer have the will to ponder it. San and Wooyoung silently look on, quickly averting their gaze when you look at them. Yunho doesn’t, expression blank as he stares. Jongho, of course, does not bother facing you at all.

Seonghwa looks at you with pain. It’s sad how you no longer believe it to be real. Or at the very least, not for you. For the person's soul you've taken.

“We spoke about this, Joong,” Seonghwa starts, following close behind. “We said it would be different this time.”

He only scoffs, ignoring your screaming as he turns a corner. “What will we do then? Let her go on her merry way? You know that’s not possible now.”

“It is not now because you made it so,” he hisses, the two of them stopping in front of your door. Seonghwa crouches down, head tilted as he gazes upon you. All you can see is pity, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. You flinch as he cups it, turning your head to meet his gaze. “It’s only for a few days. Just so that you get this out of your system, alright? We wouldn’t need to prolong it if there’s cooperation.”

“Fuck you,” you jeer.

"See?" Hongjoong seems to only sigh louder, pushing the door open and almost throwing you inside. You hold your head from hitting the floor, sliding across to the opposite side of the room. You struggle to lift yourself from the floor, body aching from the throw. You glance down at your hands, the blood from the dead in the restaurant dyed on your hands. You wipe them quickly, chest rising and falling.

There were so many dead. So many lives lost. You don’t notice how Seonghwa looks at you, wanting to step in and pull you out of your thoughts. He shuts his eyes for a moment, looking at his leader.

“Hongjoong.“

He holds up his hand. “She’ll learn her lesson soon enough. A few days of isolation will do wonders. Right, my sea?”

You don’t dare meet his gaze, nor try to run out the door. It’ll be foolish in the end, there’s eight of them and one of you. Why didn’t you listen to their advice?

Why didn’t you end it where it began?

It feels as if it’s spring outside; the window cracked just a bit for you to feel the warm breeze rush through. Vastly different from just a few days ago – the windchill almost suffocating, curtains closed as you tucked yourself beneath the blankets. You finally look away from the window when you see one of them appear, slowly making your way back into the cold sheets. Siyoon’s phone disappearing from the drawer only confirms your suspicions. If they are as guiltless as they make themselves out to be, it would still reside inside. Nothing sharp enough to hurt yourself with lying out and about. One of them searched your room when you left with Hongjoong. Now you’ll never know what happened to her. If she even survived her encounter with them.

The night Hongjoong dragged you back into this room is one you cannot forget. The pleas spilling from your lips as you begged for them to let you go, banging on the door. The sympathetic looks they gave you. As if you were the unstable one. As if all of this is your fault. Even Wooyoung, as guilty as he may be, gazed upon you with sympathy, an understanding nod as Hongjoong dragged you back inside, locking the door behind him. It's one of the last times you’ve seen him, and it’s been over a week since.

The first few nights were torture. They sealed your bedroom window, leaving it only open a crack for a bit of fresh air. The windows were coated with some sort of frost, hiding the outside world from your view. It only cemented the fact that no matter what you do or say, you’ll still be stuck in this room at the end of the day.

Now there’s nothing that could change your mind; Rose left for a reason. It wouldn’t surprise you if the two of you ended up in similar situations. Though she was stuck on a ship, and you are stuck in their home.

At least there’s the slightest chance that you can run.

“Your food is getting cold.”

Yunho stands at the door, hands tucked in pockets. He gives you a smile. You don’t have the energy to even pretend to care, shifting your gaze back to the frosted windows.

“No talking now?”

“Let me go.”

“Ah,” Though he speaks to your back, you can hear him run his fingers through his hair. “Eat and then we’ll talk about leaving.”

You roll your eyes, shifting your body to turn to him, “I should have noticed your lies from the beginning. It just comes so easily to you. What are you going to say next? I’m allowed to get some fresh air if I take a bite?”

His grin sticks, “Of course.”

“Go away, Yunho.”

“None of us want you stuck in this room, y/n,” he moves closer to the bed. You tense up immediately at his steps, eyes flicking to his hands. He holds them up in surrender, slowly sitting on the small stool. “We said it’d be temporary and we weren’t lying about that. If you want, you can sit outside and eat. I know you’re tired of looking out that window.” He gestures, dropping his hands. “We never wanted you to feel like a prisoner.”

“What a joke.”

“None of this would have happened if you cooperated,” he shrugs. “So, you want to go out or not?”

“If I say no?”

“Another week, unfortunately,” he frowns.

You slowly sit up, body numb from not moving for several hours. Yunho reaches out to steady you but you shift from his hand, shaking your head. They’ve hidden a lot from you; letting Yunho touch you is not the plan. You’d probably be put under some sort of spell. Of course, your imagination is very much working overtime, but months ago you wouldn’t have guessed that there was an underground vampire band that used to be pirates so consumed by their grief that they latch on to the reincarnation of their former lover.

Saying it in your head makes it even more unbelievable.

“You’re all sick, you know that right?” You murmur, sliding into your slippers. He doesn’t say anything, watching as you make your way to the plate of food. He takes it just as you’re about to grab it. “Yunho.”

“We’re going outside. You’re looking sickly without any sunshine, you should open the curtains a bit more. Light isn’t your enemy.” He steps to the side, gesturing to the open doorway. You’re not sure why the sight makes your anxiety start to rise. But you leave anyway, Yunho close behind you. The hallways are quiet as you step through the home. The back door is already ajar. You can see others just outside. One in particular stands out amongst the rest, sitting idly by the door. You still, causing Yunho to bump slightly into you as you do.

“I want to go back.”

“No.”

“Yunho–”

“I know there’s still a backbone in there somewhere, pretty,” he whispers, “Use it.” He pushes you slightly, forcing you to step further to the outside.

You stumble as you walk through the doors, desperately trying to calm your heart down enough. How have they beaten you down to the point where you cannot function properly around them? One man shouldn’t terrify you so much. You ignore his eyes, feeling them trail after you as you quickly make your way to the bench after slipping into your outdoor shoes, leaving the others to the side. The last time you were here, you enjoyed your time with Jongho. The memory is happy enough to ease your heart slightly, slow breaths escaping you. You sit down, Yunho placing the plate on a small table in front of you, a water bottle adjacent.

“See? Not so bad,” he pats the table, stretching. “I have to run out, but the others will keep you entertained enough. See you later, pretty.”

“Wait-”

He turns and walks before you can say another word. Your fists rest upon your thighs, gaze glued to the plate in front of you. From the quick glances before, you spotted Hongjoong, San, and Wooyoung lingering outside. Your body is too exhausted to think about where the others may be. The sun is bright today, hot against your skin as you slowly take a bite of the food. Your eyes move to the side, San and Wooyoung leaving promptly. You grip your plate, staring at the chest of the man who slowly makes his way over to you. Fear is what drives you now, looking in his eyes too much for you. All you can think of is the way he grinned as blood coated his hands and clothing, the way he laughed as he threw you into the room.

"Nice to see you after a few days, my sea," he sits on the grass in front of you, keeping enough distance for you to calm down slightly. You look back at the plate, unable to respond. "Nothing to say to me?"

"No."

He slowly drops his body against the lawn, hands resting behind his head. You inadvertently look at his face. The same sly smirk rests against his lips, brows lifting quickly when you finally look at his eyes.

You take another bite.

"Have you slept?"

"How could I when I'm in a house with people who want to kill me?" You say, teeth clenched.

"Being a vampire isn't killing you, y/n. It's another life. Extending your human one beyond what you can think of. It's a gift."

"It's a curse," you whisper. "Humans shouldn't live that long."

"Once you turn you're no longer human, so that doesn't really matter, does it?"

You place your chopsticks down, taking a slow breath. There's no use in speaking to him about it. He's lived long enough to twist your words. make it fit into his. And the other you’s probably had this same exact conversation with him dozens of times. “And then what comes after? Eternal suffering?”

“After turning? Anything you desire. You’ll have the world at your feet, just as we do.”

“It must be quite easy for you to assume,” you note, tucking your knees further into your chest. “Assuming that I will decide to live with you for however long I will be ‘alive’–“ you motion quotes with your fingers– “It’s a bit presumptuous to believe that I will never leave your side. And forcing me to will only work for so long. There will be a point when I decide that I’m sick of it and run.”

“You have yet to run though,” Hongjoong shrugs, gesturing to the gate. “It's been open for quite a while now but you lack an attempt to make a run for it.”

Scoffing seems to only lessen the impact of his words. What if you were to make a run for it? You doubt they would let you out of their sight for a moment. You can only think back to when Seonghwa let you go in that supermarket. You’re sure that everything would be in a different shape if you never arrived back home. What if… what if you didn’t show back up? Seonghwa gave you the out. The perfume that hides your smell, pheromones. You had the chance and you didn’t even take it.

Has there ever been a moment where you would have?

“Will you chase after me?”

He only smiles.

“Then what’s the point of me running? I doubt I’d get over the threshold without one of you stopping me.”

“Have you lost your drive to survive?” he raises a brow. “Or have you settled? The sea that I know wouldn’t allow us to keep her here without at least attempting to fight for it. It is only saddening to look at.” Despite his words his grin only seems to widen as he watches you. He’s desired this. He's always yearned for you to be subdued, underneath his fervent whims. Abiding by them only worsens the situation. But you cannot imagine yourself not giving up, fighting through it. You’ve tired yourself out over this year of meeting them. Who knew that the snarky woman at Clair de Lune would allow herself to be broken down into this empty shell? You know now that Rose wouldn’t have settled. She would have probably taken her life long ago.

It’s strange that you have yet to consider that path yourself.

“Who turned her?”

“Excuse me?” He’s mocking you now. "Couldn't quite hear you."

"Who turned Rose, Hongjoong? Which one of you did it?"

"Why do you care? Do you want to reenact it again? I wouldn't mind it, sure. But that's a bit strange even for you."

Oh. Fuck you.

“Wooyoung insists that it wasn’t him,” you start, knowing that this conversation could easily be turned on you. “And I believe him. But what I don’t understand is why her death is being hidden from me. What’s there to hide if she killed herself as you all have said? If it’s true, you could talk about it. If it’s true, you wouldn’t hide it from me.”

“Who are you to tell us what we’re thinking?” Though he still has the teasing grin on his lips, his eyes shifted, more narrowed. “Would it make you sleep better at night, knowing what truly happened to her? Would it change your mind about us, make you see us in a different light? Because as I see right now, you’re completely terrified of being in the same room as us. Pouring gasoline on the fire isn’t going to put it out.”

Though he doesn’t admit it blatantly, you can read between the lines. It’s true; Wooyoung didn’t kill her. He killed Yeosang, yes. But not Rose. And from what you know thus far Hongjoong wouldn’t hesitate to tell you it was him or Yeosang. He’d probably do it on purpose to make you fall deeper into yourself. But why hide it?

What would he gain?

Hongjoong stands, brushing off the strands of grass from his slacks. “I’d love to play with you some more, but we have a show. Mingi is somewhere around to entertain you whenever you decide to leave this spot. See you later, sea.” He waves slightly, leaving you alone outside. You glance at the open gate. There’s no one around that you can see but you know they’re watching. Waiting for you to take a step to it. You close your eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath.

Are you truly stuck here?

There seemed to be silent agreement amongst the men. Averted gazes, stepping out of the room when you enter. Even Wooyoung, as boisterous as he is, avoids you as you walk down the hallways. The feeling is eerie; watchful eyes at every corner, behind every door. The freedom to roam only makes you feel more trapped. More secluded. You wonder if this was their captain’s plan all along.

Your grip on the ceramic cup Mingi slides to you is tight. Lips firm. It’s strange how alone you feel in a house filled with people.

“Are you all right?” Mingi keeps his distance, leaning against the far wall. There’s a bit of a frown on his lips. He’s never shown you mock concern, but that was before you were forced into these walls. Now you don’t think your read of their expressions is accurate at all. “y/n?”

“Fine,” you remain tight lipped, placing your cup on the counter. You lift the coffee pot, slowly pouring it. You pretend not to notice the knives sitting on the countertop, only an arm’s reach away. “As fine as I can be while being kidnapped.”

You wait for him to excuse their behavior, say something along the lines of It’s not like that, we love you. A part of you hopes he does so you can tear apart the argument piece by piece. Instead, he nods solemnly, a sigh breaking the silence.

“It’s inexcusable.”

That makes you stop for a moment and turn to him. He sends you a closed-lipped smile, shrugging.

“There’s not much else I can say but that.”

“Shocked you’re not begging on your knees for me to forgive you,” you admit, placing the pot back down. The warmth causes a shutter through you, hands cupping the coffee. “Or telling me to go see Hongjoong.” Hongjoong told you just before he left that if you wanted to know details, you could just ask him. Alone, of course. Exactly the one thing you'd never do.

He laughs dryly then, “Would you even agree to it?”

“Hell no.”

“Then there’s no use in me even asking.”

“What’s up with you, Mingi?” Though the question is reasonable, there’s layers to it. He’s been off ever since that day the two of you were taken and kept in Subin’s home, or whatever it was. The day that he found out you were slowly being poisoned. It’s as if something shifted with him. Sure, he was annoyed with you in the beginning and it drifted to a fondness. But nothing this odd. He looks as if he’s in neverending pain.

Wait.

No. You’re not about to do this. There’s no reason to be worried for him. Feeling sympathy toward a person who is holding you against your will isn’t smart.

He shakes his head slowly, “I just, I worry for you. I know you won’t believe my words because I’ve broken your trust, but I am scared.”

“Of?”

“What we are doing to you,” his voice is low, eyes widening as he says it. His pupils tremble as they stare at you, full of aversion and panic. “I’m afraid of the past continuing to repeat. It’s frightening how similar it is.“

“You say that and yet here I stand across from you, unable to leave while you look at me with pity. I’ve got to say, Mingi, you almost fooled me.” You snort, ignoring the way your heart pounds. He can hear it, you’re sure of it.

“They’re not home,” he starts. “I’m the only one here.”

“So?”

“I’m the only one here,” he repeats.

You still, gaze moving back to him. “You would let me go?”

“You wouldn’t get far.”

“Mingi, you would let me leave right now?”

Though there is pain in his eyes, he nods. “I’d do anything for you. But you have to hurry, y/n. They’re—”

You don’t let him finish, dropping the cup from your hands and turning down the hallway. There’s no time to grab anything but your bag that hangs by the door. Just as you swing the door open, you meet the eyes of Jeong Yunho. His widens briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair.

“Didn’t I tell them that Mingi shouldn’t be home alone with you?” He steps inside, stepping around you. You don’t bother exiting the house, the others slowly making their way up the path. “Running away at the slightest chance. I told them this would happen. They were all worried about Seonghwa when we should have been watching Mingi.”

Mingi swallows slowly, looking at you with sympathy. The others enter the home, talking amongst each other as they step around you. They all wear their outfits from the show, not bothering to clean off the blood of their victims. Most are stained, except Jongho. And again, Yeosang is nowhere to be found. You doubt you’ll ever see him again after what you’ve witnessed. Hongjoong is the last to enter, slowly closing the door behind him. He closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing the space above his brows.

“What was the end goal, my sea?” He asks, turning to you. “Where were you going to go?”

“Hongjoong—”

“Ah,” he holds up his hand, stopping you just as you begin to speak. “Better that I not know so I don’t mess up your little plans, right?” His smile drops when he looks at Mingi, eyes narrowed. “You said you would watch her.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t think she would run—”

“A foolish thought. An even foolisher one that you would let her.” Hongjoong interrupts, eyes flicking to yours. “Yeosang would be hurt that you’d just run away, you know.”

“I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Is that so?” His brow lifts. “Then what about Mingi? Seonghwa? Jongho? You would leave us all without blinking?”

“This is not a life, Hongjoong!” Your voice rises, throwing your hands in the air. “What do you expect me to do? Just sit here and take it? Let you turn me into whatever you want? Generations of my soul didn’t want it, Joong. I myself don’t want it either. I just want to go home.” You can feel your breath quickening, heart beating against your chest. “Why won’t you let me go home?”

“What home, y/n? Your apartment is gone. Or are you speaking of your family? Parents? Oh my beautiful sea,” he tsks, shaking his head. “They don’t want you. They’ve never wanted you.”

“Stop,” you shake your head. “I won’t listen to you.”

He takes another step to you, forcing you to shrink into the corner of the room. The others do nothing to stop him. “You know it yourself. That’s why you ran to Seoul. Because they didn’t want you, remember? You begged for them to listen to your dreams, to accept you as you are. But they disowned you, told you that they were no longer your parents. You pleaded over and over but they only forced you out with one suitcase, and barely one thousand won. Pretending it didn’t happen doesn’t stop it from being true,” he places his hand on your cheek, pressing his lips against your forehead. They feel abnormally hot on your skin. “We’re your family now, y/n. We’ll take care of you.”

No. They didn’t… did they? Your memories begin to jumble. And just as clear as day, you remember the way your father shouted at you, telling you to leave. How you cried, falling to your knees. That’s not true, no. He loved you. He… hated you.

“I’m sorry Rose, it’ll be quick okay? Really quick, I will not let you suffer.” Jongho pushes his hand against your mouth as Rose–you, cry out. Your hands grip his arms, gagging as you accidentally swallow his blood. He pulls away, letting you fall to the wooden boards. You cough, desperate to get it out of your body. Realizing that you cannot, you try to stand, only for him to stand above you, holding a silver knife. His eyes are wide. He is smiling. Smiling as he stands over your body. You've never seen him this terrifying before. You try to speak, gagging at the blood in your mouth.

“It’ll be quick, Rose.” He brings it against your neck as you gasp, your screaming cut off. You feel it sink into your skin, gripping it tightly. Hongjoong moves around him, crouching next to you. His eyes flick over yours, ubiquitous glee radiating from his gaze. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead as the pain consumes you.

"y/n! Are you there? Can you hear me?" Jongho’s grip on you is tight. shaking your body over and over again.

Your hands grab his, pushing them off. He looks confused as he moves closer to you, but you cry out, backing up against the wall. The others look at you with worry, Hongjoong conveniently no longer in the room. You touch your face, wincing as your fingers brush against the cuts. When did they appear on your skin? Your eyes flick to Jongho, remembering. He killed you, her. Jongho was the one who did it.

It was never Wooyoung.

You fall to your knees, feeling him quickly move to touch you. "Get the fuck away from me!" Your head whips around, glaring. "Do not touch me, Jongho."

"y/n, I know a lot is happening right now—"

"You," your legs push you farther into the corner, eyes swelling with tears. "It was you all along. I thought it was Wooyoung, I blamed him but it was you. It was always you." The tremors through your body seem to only rise as you push through the thoughts. Your head throbs, eyes shut. "You killed her."

"Please just let me explain."

You shake your head, slowly standing. "She… you all lied. She never wanted to be like you, just like Yeosang. Both of them wanted to be human and you forced them to be like you. Because you're all fucked!" A half laugh, half gasp leaves your lips, thoughts scattered. "Why am I still here? I need to go, I need—"

"Why does every incarnation of you just never listen? Why do we have to go through this every time?" Yunho sighs, rubbing his face. "It would've been so easy if you just cooperated, y/n. It all would be easy." He slowly shuts the door behind him, the grip on his knife tightening. When did he get that? "We could've done it differently this time, my love."

The tension in the room shifts as he speaks. Wooyoung keeps his gaze low, Mingi staring at his friend. He looks furious, fists curled into themselves. “Yunho—”

“Say another word, Song, and I’ll kill you myself.”

"No one is killing anyone," Seonghwa enters the room, barely giving Yunho a glance. He looks at you, a small smile on his lips. "Want to talk? Alone?"

In all honesty you want to be left alone completely, but that will never be the case. Instead, you give him a weak nod, letting his hand slip into yours. Just as you're about to leave the room, you stop him. Whatever is happening between Mingi and Yunho, their friendship is crumbling in front of you. You just have this strange feeling that if you leave them alone something would happen. It's human nature; despite their lack of care for your own life, you care for theirs. Out of fear you avoid Jongho and Yunho's eyes, looking at Mingi.

"Can you come too?"

None of you say a word as you sit in the room together. Your head is tucked between your knees, breath shaky as you try to think this through. None of them will help you, you’re sure of it. Even with Mingi’s attempt, you’re sure he won’t do it as easily as before. Hongjoong might convince him otherwise. How he pulled those memories out of you, you’d never be able to explain. All of it is just so much, so heavily weighed on you. Everything is just too overwhelming.

“Do you need air?” Seonghwa asks softly, crouching in front of you. He doesn’t touch you or hold your hand and you’re thankful for it, emotions slowly taking over.

“I don’t know if I can take this anymore,” you admit, lifting your head just enough to show him your moist gaze. “My friend is dead, my parents disowned me. Seungwoo tricked me into caring about him and he’s gone now too. Yeosang is…” Your voice catches in your throat. “I have no one, Seonghwa. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone. I’m alone.”

Waiting for his reassurances, telling you that you have them, it never comes. He rests his head against the foot of the bed, barely a centimeter or so away from where you rest. Your body shakes, trembling. You wonder if he realizes that there’s nothing he could say that would convince you that you’re not in danger, that you’re safe around them. The more you think about it, he’s a part of the few who told you that they apologize for what they’ve done - despite continuously doing it. It all feels mute now. The more you try to convince yourself that everything is fine, the more you fold into your own thoughts.

Nothing is fine. You’re sure that it never was.

“Was it the change that made him do it?” You ask, “Did turning into this make him unstable? Make all of you not as you were?”

Mingi scoffs, a light laugh escaping him. “It’s like we’re experiencing the same conversation over again.”

“You should have learned from the first time. Rose warned you and yet you made her take her life because she was terrified of all of you. You did this to her, whether you’d like it or not.” All of the visions are beginning to add up. Realizations one after the other. In the end Hongjoong was right; it didn’t matter who killed Rose, or this Cassia that he mentioned. It didn’t matter because your soul would never be free if they continued this cycle. Each time you died was because you rejected one of them. Hongjoong was the first, sure, but whatever poison that infects their bloodstream made all of them the same. All of your thoughts are forming one conclusion.

You have to let them turn you.

The thought makes you ill, body shivers. It makes sense. Every rejection led to death, every single time. Even now, before this revelation, you promised yourself you’d find a way to end your life before living as a vampire. But why let your soul continue the endless torture when you can just stop it? Perhaps you would enjoy your life after this. Maybe, eventually, you’ll learn to love them, enjoy them. You did before all of this. It wasn’t hard. It was strangely easy.

You reach to the side, opening your drawer to grab a tissue. You tense up, remembering that Siyoon’s phone is no longer in its place.

“Did you listen to anything I’ve said?” Seonghwa asks, pulling you away from the drawer. “Are you alright?”

You stare at the blank space, blinking slowly. “Can we have dinner together?”

His eyes widened, looking back at Mingi before standing. “Oh, I can grab a plate for you. I think Yunho was preparing something—”

“No, I want to eat together. With everyone, if that’s okay.”

The room is loud. Having eight people talking all at once, laughter in the air as they speak of different things makes you forget for a moment that they aren’t evil. That you’re not safe the longer you stay here. Your resolution from before begins to crack. Are you truly okay with being one of them? The metal smell of blood seeps through the air, your stomach turning as you watch them swallow it from glasses, mixed with other strange substances. None of them mention Yeosang’s absence, the chair pushed in as they pass around miscellaneous things. You can’t help but focus on it. He’s hated his life for over a hundred years. Your heart feels like it’s sliding through your body, sinking into the old hardwood floors. It’s scary, the effect he has on you. His absence has gone through you, you’ve tried burying the thoughts but they only seem to come back into your shaky hands, consuming every waking thought.

Is this how they feel? You planned this dinner to be an intervention, to question them as to what happened to Siyoon’s device. But all you’re doing is selfishly thinking of yourself and not her. Perhaps you’re not much different from them. It’s far too late to run away. Each part of them already lives there. You wish that you had more time. Your eyes shift to Jongho. Did you love him, despite it all? The way he pressed his hand against her lips, forced her to turn. He did not do that to you, no. But would he? Would your Jongho make you choke on his blood with a tender look in his eyes as your life faded? He seems to notice your stare, round eyes meeting yours. There’s care in them, worry, hurt. Regret. The feelings are so overwhelming that you force yourself to leave his eyes, watching the others. He doesn’t look away. Is this feeling what most want? To have someone unable to look away even when you have?

“Which one of you took Siyoon’s phone from my drawer?” The table silences in an instant. You look up from your cold dinner, sliding your gaze from face to face. None of them speak up, as if you didn’t ask a question at all. You swallow slowly. “Is she dead?”

“Yes,” Jongho speaks up. The tone is careful as he whispers. “But I want you to listen to my words carefully, y/n—”

You should have known. Nothing can be good with them. Nothing. “One of you killed her.”

Jongho shakes his head, “y/n—”

“Stop! Stop making me think I’m some fucking crazy person!” You stand up from your seat, hands gripping the wooden table. Through your anger you can see how Hongjoong sips his drink silently, not saying a word. “One of you took her phone away from me and probably destroyed it before I could read what’s on it. Pretending that you didn’t hurt her in any way to keep me here. Jongho, your lies aren’t going to work this time. Not. This. Time.”

“Would you like her phone?” Hongjoong’s brow quirks. He digs into his pocket, the familiar cases appearing in his hands. Without another word, he stands, placing it in front of you. The familiar pink casing staring back at you. “Be my guest. Fair warning; you won’t enjoy what’s on there. She wasn’t the kindest person in the world.”

You ignore his warnings, immediately entering her password. The table is quiet as you look through the various apps. Nothing is out of sorts, not even her emails. Your thumb hovers over the messages, before pressing the icon. It’s filled with unread messages, most sending their sympathies and condolences. But your brows furrow at one chat, the name of it unsettling.

You open it. It’s a group chat between her and several others, many of whom you recognize as acquaintances you met through Siyoon. You read through it, each message sinking in. Insults in between jokes about you, many of which are from Siyoon herself. Endlessly complaining about you, telling the rest that she was using you for her own gain. Messages that date back to even before you met the men who sit in front of you now. Your vision begins to blur as you control to scroll, stopping at the first message in the group chat.

It was a week after you met Siyoon.

siyoon: think we can use her for better grades?

You close the phone, mouth dry. "Did you kill her?"

"No," Jongho says again. “That night, the night we met. She was with someone, they said. A Jaehyeong? I can’t remember his last name. But they were together, and he…” Jongho trails off. “It was a car accident, y/n. They both died.”

The air feels colder as you think back to the night. Leaving her with him despite the red flags. She wasn’t drunk, nor was he, but there was just something off about that night. You were too involved with yourself to think it through clearly. In fact, you’re sure that you told her to message you when she got back home. Thinking about it now, you’ve never received that text.

You don’t take their word for it, opening the web browser on her phone and typing in their names. It’s the first article of a few, a car accident that killed the lives of two innocent young adults. No alcohol in their systems. The phone slips through your fingers, face down against the table.

“How long did you know?” You ask softly. “How long?”

“Not too long after Seonghwa saw you in the bookstore,” Yunho admits, taking another sip of the drink. “We didn’t know you well enough back then, so we thought you knew of it already. It was a bit of a shocker that you didn’t up to this point. When we found the phone in your drawer, that’s when we realized where you went when we lost you in the supermarket.”

Your head slowly shakes on its own as the information sinks in. Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the men in the room exchange looks over you.

“She’s gone.” You hold your hand over your mouth, tears falling down your cheeks, dripping against the table. Seeing your friend Siyoon, her words egregious, makes you feel all but nauseous. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone, but it hurts knowing she felt that way about you. That you were just a tool in her life, when you thought you were more than that.

You've felt alone before, but the sinking feeling that you have not one person in this world who cares about you is utterly terrifying.

Hongjoong sits on the balcony, Seonghwa and San across from him. He tends to a cup of wine, sipping slowly as he looks out into the surrounding forest. He hasn’t heard from Mingi or Jongho, guiding you to your room once you’ve found out. A part of him forgot that you still had that brief connection with the woman, immediately giving the phone to Wooyoung once he found out about it. He’s thankful that you were too distraught to notice anything strange about the messages, dates and communications slightly off. But it convinced you enough, the device forgotten as you sink into your grief.

He glances at the other two across from him, lids heavy. “Would either of you care so much for a woman who insulted you and used you in your past?”

San hesitates before speaking. “They were friends, Hongjoong. She cared for her. It would be hard not to feel immense grief at the thought of losing someone that close. She will be devastated for a long time.”

He sighs, taking another sip. “Then we have to delay turning her.”

“Is this… not too far?” Seonghwa asks, already predicting his answer. “She has lost her friends, family. You never told us you would manipulate her thoughts that way. Now she believes that her family hated her.”

He merely shrugs, “They would have anyway once they saw their daughter as one of us. Her parents were quite traditional. She hid every relationship from them in fear of their rejection. Ours wouldn’t have been much different.”

“And Yeosang, then? Will we continue to force them apart?”

“Of course not, hyung.” It’s a farce in itself, knowing that Hongjoong is thousands of years older than he is. “Do you truly consider me that mad?” He rolls his eyes. “I told Yeosang to come home whenever he likes. He is the only one preventing himself from entering these doors. He’s afraid of what she might say to him. Not unwarranted — she did see him at his lowest. It would be a bit hard for her to see him without imagining that blood covering his body.”

“I just don’t understand,” San stands from his spot. “How will all of this make her want to be one of us? She’s just brewing in her hurt now. It’s worse than Rose now. There’s no chance she’d agree, or live that long to accept herself.”

“You never think of the bigger picture, San. She is hurting so badly now, thoughts darker and more vulnerable. Now she really has no one but us. There's no need to convince her because she'll come to the conclusion herself." He grins, leaning further back in his seat. "And I will be waiting with open arms."

Wooyoung wipes the blood against his jeans, some of it sticking to the underside of his nails. They haven't killed anyone; their thoughts wiped as they stumble down the street, told to go back to their homes. He slumps himself onto the bench. After being turned he considered himself a less caring man. He knows it, more than the others tell him. But seeing you so defeated… it made him feel filthy. No amount of blood draining helps him forget the distant look in your eyes. You looked so alone. It reminded him of his former life; abandoned and distraught. He knows that if Seonghwa didn't find him sooner, he wouldn't have survived for much longer.

He lifts his hands, staring at his palms. Is this what they've become? Shells of their former selves? Losing you devastated him. He could remember the murder sprees they went on, full of grief. Not caring who or what they killed. So consumed with turmoil for years. He thought that when he saw you again, his peach, it would be okay again. You would love him as you did before with ease, care for him. But it just feels the opposite. That he's trying to convince you to give him a chance.

He leans his head back, staring at the night sky. It's a bit colder now despite the change in seasons, the summer breeze chilly.

He scoffs, rubbing his face.

Maybe he is completely delusional.

Your knees are tucked close to your chest. You're not sure if you can cry anymore, body exhausted from the hours of sobbing. You stare at the door, knowing that even if they're giving you space, you couldn't do anything without them knowing. Their hearing far supersedes yours. It wouldn't surprise you if your heart beat is being listened to. You close your eyes for a moment.

You have nothing. Just them, just their endless and unconditional affection. No friends, no family. Not even a slip of a memory that Rose could give you. Nothing.

It's scary to think about.

"I want to see him." You whisper.

It pains you to even think of his face, but you need to see him. You need him to tell you that he's there. That he won't abandon you when you make your choice.

"Please."

Mingi stands outside the abandoned cemetery. His hand grips the rusted gate, chest tight. It's funny that he could feel it despite his heart no longer functioning at all. All of them know where he went. It's hard not to when they're all so in tune to each other. But here? The place that Mingi avoided with everything that he had. The place they buried their beautiful Rose. He takes a long breath, taking slow steps inside. Her grave isn't too far away from the entrance, but it makes him want to break down the closer he gets. He spots Yeosang not too far off, sitting in a folded chair, eyes glued to her grave.

He wears the same outfit he left home that night. Clothing still stained with dried blood, ripped every which way. Smell putrid, nauseating if Mingi were a human. But he's used to the smell of the dead. It's a smell that appears when they haven't fed or moved in a while. None of them really let themselves get that far into decaying, but Yeosang does quite often. A form of self torture, Mingi thinks. A method that he once used when he let his thoughts take over.

"That's something you and y/n have in common. Never say a word until I speak up," Yeosang says. His voice sounds hoarse. This is probably the first time he's said a word aloud in weeks; deeper tone much more so. He doesn't move though, back still facing Mingi as he makes his way over. "I'm not going back if that's what you're here for."

"We want to make sure you're okay."

"Right. They wouldn't send you if they did care."

"You know we care, Yeosang. Don't start with that," Mingi knows he's partially correct. Hongjoong planned on coming himself but Mingi insisted it be him. Wooyoung was usually the first to break Yeosang. Mingi never really understood how to speak to him. They're friends, sure. Family. But he and Yeosang aren't as close as the others. There's often silence when they're together. Comforting, but quiet. "I wanted to come."

"Did you." A statement, more than a question.

"It's been weeks, Yeo."

“And it’s usually years before one of you decides to come find me.”

Mingi sighs, “You know it’s different this time.”

“Ah yes. This time you have your Rose, and you want everything to be perfect for her. My apologies for messing things up again. Tell Hongjoong I give him my condolences.”

“She’s not just mine.”

“No, she’s his. She’s always been his. Alas, I have forgotten,” He rolls his eyes, “What do you believe is holding us together after all these years? And if there is any answer other than her, it’s a lie. We’ve all desired in different ways, what we would do if she came back to us. And now that she’s here, everyone is only caring about their own feelings. Have you not considered hers? Do hers matter in the grand scheme of things? Do we truly want her for as she is now, or how she was before?

“You think we don’t care?”

“Not necessarily. I think you care for a woman who’s no longer there. What do you know of her now that isn’t something from before? Wooyoung called her peach with such ease, Hongjoong called her his sea. Nothing that we have done thus far is for the woman in front of us now. We have wrecked her life so that we ourselves can live in a falsehood. The only reason we still tolerate each other after decades of fighting is because we have her as the reward at the end. You may consider me wrong, fine. But I’m not deluded into this fantasy that you’ve all formed.”

Mingi looks at Yeosang sitting on the rock. He looks tired for an immortal, eyes heavy, skin paler from lack of blood supply. It’s strange that despite all his words Mingi can tell that he loves her. He was never this passionate about Rose, never this protective over her well-being. In a bizarre way, the man sitting in front of him may love you more entirely. No one fights for a life this desperately without love.

“You adore her, don’t you, Yeo?” Mingi asks softly. His brows seem to furrow in pain at the question, mouth opening and closing. He takes a long breath, gaze on the city in front of them. “What will you do, then? Let us turn her?”

“... I can’t stop it.”

“You’d give up so easily?” Mingi’s brow lifts.

“Have you? You tell me to do something you know I cannot, and complain about me being resigned in my position? And make it into my problem when you're as concerned as I?" He scoffs, sinking deeper into his seat. "Mingi, you've lived long and have known me well enough to not ask stupid questions."

"I'm accepting it because I don't see another way," he admits. "You wish to no longer be immortal, but I can't imagine not being one. I can't imagine being a human again. And I can't imagine losing her because of it. It's horrid, no need to look at me like that."

Yeosang tries to fix his expression, only twisting further into silent disgust. He looks away from his friend. The sky seems more interesting than the conversation they're having. "I'm glad you know how stupid you sound."

"I know. Might be because we're all slowly falling into our madness without you around."

"Shiny words won't make me come back."

"...She needs you, Yeosang. More than you know. I think you're the only one who can pull her out of this."

"Nothing you say is going to make me want to come back—"

"She asked for you."

Yeosang is silent. It feels like a lifetime has passed when he speaks up again.

"Lying is a sin."

"Then my words must make me all the more blessed."

Yeosang grips the railing, "Did she truly, Mingi? You aren't fibbing this time? Hongjoong didn't put you up to this?"

"No. Yeosang, you're a fuck-up just like the rest of us. But she loves you. She wouldn't give up on you."

Yeosang sucks in a breath, turning back to the grave. He lifts his hand, as if to reach out. Instead, it limply falls back to his knee.

"I love her, Mingi. I love y/n, I probably love her more than I've ever loved Rose. And it fucking terrifies me," he runs his fingers through his hair, only causing it to stick up more. "I can't see her because I will break down. I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't forgive me. I don't even deserve to be forgiven for killing all of those people. I—" He looks at Mingi, eyes glazed over with a pink tint. "I would try to turn her right then and there to make her forget."

“You wouldn’t.”

“And I would have believed that before everything happened. Now I’m not too sure. It might be what Hongjoong is banking on. Me losing control like I always do. I can’t, Mingi. I can’t see her when I’m like this,” he glances down at himself, thumbing his soiled clothes. “Even more so with this on me. It’ll just remind her of what I’ve done.”

“One, you’re not going to hurt her,” Mingi holds up his hand when he sees Yeosang opening his mouth. “And two, take a shower?”

"Mingi…"

"Prolonging it will only make it worse in the end. Don't be a fool, Yeosang. We already have enough of those around us, including me."

Yeosang turns back to the headstone, a solemn look on his face. "Rose would strangle us all if she knew what we're doing. In moments like this, I cannot help but miss her presence. She was often kind but stern with her words. I am sure all of us would have been scolded to the ends of the Earth."

Mingi's lips curve into a small smile. "We'd leave with burning ears and ringing heads."

Yeosang laughs then, shaking his head. His smile slips again, swallowing slowly. "I'll think about it, Mingi. I know you're not lying, and she requested me. But though she is ready, I'm not. Not yet."

"Then I will stay with you until you are."

"You don't have to do that," he glances at him. "I know you dread this place."

Mingi only sinks to his knees next to his friend, resting against the side of the large rock. Yeosang does not discourage him, allowing him to join as they stare at the stone.

At their Rose.

You can't remember how much time has passed. Sadness burdens your soul, your feet dragging against the tiles, barely acknowledging anyone who passed by. Holding back your tears each time you think of your friend. It's enough that you've broken down in front of them, it would be silly for it to happen over and over again. Your pride speaking, but it's all you have left.

You feel the air shift as you're shifting your blankets on the bed. Your grip tightens when you sense someone standing at the doorway. They've announced themselves each time, but this feels much different. You slowly let go of the sheets, turning around. His hair is in disarray, baggy sweats covering him. Eyes bloodshot, skin paler than usual. Frightened as well, hand gripping the doorway, fingers almost digging into the wood. His body trembles, lip between his teeth as he stares.

"Yeosang?" Your voice is rough, eyes moist.

His smile is slight, swallowing slowly.

"Hi, pretty."

He steps inside, sliding his hand against the wall. He stops when he's on the far opposite wall, glancing around your room. It's in as much disarray as he looks. Clothes thrown everywhere, items in the wrong places. His eyes stay on the window briefly, the bars against it making his brows furrow for a moment, before relaxing.

"I heard about your friend."

You slowly nod, sinking into the mattress. "It hurts, Yeo."

"I know." His head tilts. "It must hurt plenty."

"Unbelievably so," you whisper, looking away from him. "I think… I should be used to hurting. It's happened for a while now. But everytime I think about it I just, I can't. I never got to say goodbye."

"You love her."

You force out a laugh, "Yeah, despite all of the shit I read. I can't help but still love her. I have so many questions I can't ask and it feels like… I don't know."

"A hole. One you can't ever fill because she's gone," he rests his hands above where his heart should be, blinking slowly. "And you relive the moment you last saw her over and over again in your head, trying to make sense of it all but you can't because grief is just too hard."

The familiar tightness in your chest twists inside of you as he speaks. He looks at you, understanding. You can't respond, a sob waiting to escape.

"Tell me where it hurts, pretty. You can point to it if you want."

You hover your hand over your chest, lightly resting it against your skin. Yeosang takes a slow step toward you. He's still trembling, one hand tucked into his pocket. He looks at you before he touches you, a silent question in his eyes. You nod, and he places his hand upon yours. It's quite cold in comparison to yours, the beating of your heart filling your ears.

Kang Yeosang slowly crouches in front of you, gaze and head moving to meet your eyes. "I'm here."

It's enough for the sob to leave your mouth, your hand entwining with his as you let go. You've found it so hard to walk through everyday, you dreaded the moments when you were alone. Your grief grew so heavy inside of you it felt as if you were becoming numb. But he says two words to you with such ease, and you fall apart.

It utterly terrifies you.

Hours must have passed, the exhaustion of your sadness guiding you back beneath your sheets. Yeosang does not dare touch you, but he stays just a couple of feet away, Head resting on his forearm as he watches you from your bed. Neither of you have said a word for quite a while now. You wonder if he is waiting for you to speak up, or will he do it on his own. There's several questions you'd like to ask, but now being with him, you no longer have the will to.

He adjusts himself in the cushion seat, pushing strands away from his forehead. "I could remember the first night that I lost Rose. I was inconsolable. All of them were too stricken with their own grief to help me with mine which I cannot blame. I starved myself over and over again to the brink of becoming solidified, but one of them fed me blood, enough to keep me alive. After about a decade or so… I expressed my grief in a way I hate to speak about. One that you witnessed not too long ago," His eyes shift to yours. "There is no right way to process it, but there are wrong ways. I have taken the wrong path more times than I can count. Sorry wouldn't work in a situation like this."

You can't speak up, the blood covered hall flashing in your memory. You've suppressed enough so that you're able to sleep, at least. "Do you often express extreme emotions this way?" You ask.

He covers his face with his hands. "I haven't in decades. This is… an outlier. I shouldn't have done it, but seeing you there in the midst of it all, it made me realize how far I've lost myself. I let my mind sink into the primal urges. I let myself get that bad, y/n. Forgiveness is not what I can ask of you, and neither could I tell their families I was the one who broke them." He swallows slowly. "I can remember their faces, the glimpses of fear. And it hurts to say that I cannot give much remorse because I know of what they've done. I know the lives that were lost because of their greed. Their faces are burned into my mind. Each and every life I took."

A pause.

"I am the monster I've always thought I was."

Comfort is not what you can offer in this situation, nor forgiveness. Trusting the judicial system is not something you believe in either, but neither is mass murder. You can only nod, shifting your eyes away from him. "You made a decision that you thought was right at the time. I cannot fault you for it." What the hell are you saying? He murdered people. You should be running out that door, not chatting it up. But all your mind could think of is helping him. Letting him know you're not giving up on him.

Perhaps he isn't the only monster in the room.

"I wish I could hate you," you confess. "I really wish I could sit here and say that I hate you and I want to never see you again. And I hate it even more that I can't. I can't hate you, Yeosang," you whisper. "You've lived a life you never wanted, you've done things because of it. It's inexcusable, but it's not surprising given the circumstances."

"y/n…" He starts, but you interrupt.

"All I can think about is that you're safe, Yeo. You're back, and you're safe. And I get to see you again. I don't know what to do about what you've done, but I'm just happy that you're here with me. That you didn't leave me."

"We're both a little fucked in the head, aren't we?"

You snort at the harsh words. “A little is an understatement.”

He leans back, staring at you. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, until he notices you look away, rubbing your arms. He closes his eyes, humming. “Mingi came to me. Told me to come back.”

“Where were you?”

His lip lifts, “At Rose’s grave. We don’t often visit it because of the harsh memories, but I like to. Gives me a chance to clear my head, think things through.”

“You can speak to the dead?”

He laughs, “No. I can speak to a stone though. She’s likely scolding us for how we’re acting.”

“Would she?”

He nods immediately. “No hesitation. She hated when we did stupid things, moreso things like this. I wouldn’t believe alive if she were here. She would…” he paused for a moment. “She would hate what we’ve done to you.”

Your smile fades the same time as his, the room shifting into a silence. It’s not as comfortable as before, his words forcing you to confront what’s happening right in front of you.

“She trusts him.”

“It was broken when she saw him hurt those people.”

“Was it really broken? Do you truly believe that she would ask for him to see her if it were true?”

“Then what do you want me to do, San? Stop them from seeing each other? I’ve done that endlessly, since the beginning. And it’s like it no longer matters because she will find a way to see him again. It’s just as it was before. Trying to separate them will only lead to her end. And I’m not sure if I can handle losing her again,” Wooyoung shakes his head slowly. “I’m not sure any of us could handle it again.”

“What do you propose?” San swallows slowly. Wooyoung doesn’t notice how San’s voice weakens a bit, glancing flicking up before looking back at him. “Joong isn’t going to be happy. He wants there to be difficulty in reconciling between them. But they’re inside chatting it up as if nothing happened.”

Wooyoung glances up from his spot on the bench, the curtains to your room closed. It’s been a while since Yeosang came back, the two of you inside the room for several hours now. Despite having the ability to listen he didn’t this time, knowing that it would hurt you even more. Getting on your good side is hard, but he’s willing to do whatever it takes. And if that means being unable to interfere with Yeosang, then so be it.

“I’m not going to do it.”

“Wooyoung…”

“San, I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t. She already hates me for doing it before.”

“Then this won’t change anything.”

Wooyoung slowly shakes his head, “San…”

“Do you expect her to just forgive you? She’s not going to forgive the man who destroyed her love’s life. You turned Yeosang, remember? You were the one who made him this way because of your jealousy. She saw it in her head. She won’t forget it.”

Wooyoung presses his hands over his ears, nails digging into his scalp. “San, please—”

“She won’t ever love you.”

“Stop!” Wooyoung stands, pushing past his friend and entering the house. He disappears within an instant, leaving him alone to stand outside. San’s express drops, fingers dragging through the loose strands that frame his face. His eyes flick up to Hongjoong’s balcony. Said man stands there, tending to a cigarette. His grin is wide as he looks at San, a light laugh escaping him.

San could only give him a pathetic smile back and enters the house a few seconds after Wooyoung.

The conversation with Yeosang ended there with him mumbling an excuse to leave. You confronted him just as he was about to go, your eyes asking if this were the last time you’d see him. He pressed his lips to your knuckles just then, a soft I won’t leave you anymore falling from his lips before he disappeared down the hall. And he kept his promise since then.

You left your room often now, the others roaming around the hallways. Vastly different from before, greetings exchanged, laughs echoed. It was as comfortable as it could be. You even laughed at something Jongho said to Mingi while they were arguing, and his eyes lit up at the sound. Sure, it was brief and you immediately shifted your gaze, but it was something to him. And if that was the beginning of you forgiving him, he was going to accept it.

Surprisingly, to everyone else and yourself, you slowly began speaking to Hongjoong. At first it was very brief, good mornings and goodnights in the beginning. But now, you let him sit beside you while a movie played in the living room. You even let him serve you dinner. Astonishing, the others knowing that his cooking skills were sub-par in comparison to so many of the other men. Hongjoong took it well, each step in your relationship seemed to build it closer to a good one.

You, of course, did not feel the same.

Each building block is a seed planted in his head. To bring you closer to him, so that he trusts you. Trust you enough to where you can get close.

Close enough to kill him.

The plan isn’t foolproof, you’re sure there’s a part of him that suspects it’s a ruse. There’s no forgetting the dozens of times you’ve told him that you would never be anything to him, that you’ll hate him as long as you live. But maybe if you go slow, if you let a few months pass, you’ll convince even him. It’s a long shot, no telling, but you have to try.

It’s been a couple of months now living with them. You thought you’d hate every moment being there, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. Your laughter and humor is real, the smiles you exchange with everyone are genuine. More often than not you remind yourself why you’re still there, what you’re doing. But most days you forget, enjoying your time spent with them. How easily have you fallen underneath their web.

“Another?” Mingi whines, scrolling through his calendar. “I thought we limited shows to Fridays only?”

“Unlike you,” Yunho wiggles his finger. “Some of us like to feed more than once a week.”

“Then I can stay?” his eyes brighten, only to be shut down by Hongjoong entering the room.

“No, you can’t. Jongho needs someone to guard with him and make sure things are okay while we’re feeding. And you stayed home with my sea last week.”

Mingi throws his head back in utter agony, pout deepening. You watch them, eating your apple. Wooyoung gave up on buying peaches and you’re more than thankful for his change of heart. Hongjoong leans against the wall, glancing at you. There’s something there, something you can’t quite decipher.

“But no one has fed in a while. Any of us,” San points out, glancing around the room. “We should all go.”

“You all can go,” Hongjoong says, shrugging. “I’ll stay with y/n. We have some things to discuss.”

The others look at you, questions in their eyes. You’ve immediately learned their different expressions. These are of worry, and confusion. You don’t trust Hongjoong, you never will… But you know he wouldn’t kill you. At least, not right now. You hope.

“Fine with me,” you continue to eat your snack. “I’ll see you all later, then?”

Mingi’s dragged out of the seat by Yunho, the others slowly disappearing to their designated rooms, getting dressed for the concert. Hongjoong lingers in the kitchen with you, humming. He opens the fridge, tsking at the lack of food inside. “I told Seonghwa to go shopping.”

“No big deal,” you murmur. “I’ll be going out soon enough with him. It was supposed to be today, but I guess it’ll happen tomorrow.” The others pass by again, waving goodbye as they leave. Eventually the two of you are alone, Hongjoong exiting the kitchen.

“Didn’t you want to speak to me about something?” you ask just as he’s about to disappear down the hallway. He glances back, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to be alone with you. A bit greedy, that’s all,” he flicks his brows up, waving goodbye. “Have a good night, my sea.” With that, he exits, leaving you alone in the kitchen. It's an open invitation to follow.

One that you take.

You close the door behind you to his room. You haven't entered it at all. It's similar in size to everyone else's, his bed slighter larger in comparison, a balcony just a few steps away from it. He moves quickly, pressing you against the door frame. Your breath hitches, his lips trailing along the back of your neck.

“Do you even like me?”

Hongjoong’s hand slides up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He turns you around. He rests just below your cheek, tilting your head towards him so as to guide your gaze to his. Despite how warm his eyes look, you can see the tightness in his jaw, the resolute tilt of his lips. He blinks slowly, humming as his thumb trails along your face. “Shall I slay every person who has ever looked at you with disdain to prove it?”

You laugh, though knowing the truth behind his words. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would in fact listen if you asked him to do so. But you play it off as if he’s facetious, shaking your head. “I asked if you liked me, not for you to murder in my name.”

“I would give you anything, my sea. Of course I like you.”

You wonder if he believes his own words.

“I’m just waiting for you to say you like me.”

“Unlikely,” you snort, placing your hand on his. You hear his breath hitch, eyes flicking to your touch. You never noticed how easily it was to make him off balance, lose his nonchalance. There has been endless doubt on how much you afflicted Hongjoong, but there is little now. You would just have to persuade him that you do care, even if it is a mere fraction of his. With that in mind you move yourself off the door and walk to the mattress, ignoring the beating of your heart, nerves coating your palms as you wipe them against your thighs. You sit on the edge, his speed quickly. In a moment, he's sitting on the edge with you.

Hongjoong watches you in curious silence. Just as he’s about to leave forward, you lift your leg, straddling him. He looks up at you in mild surprise, lips parting and shutting. Leaving Kim Hongjoong astounded? Perhaps you are good at this manipulation game.

You lean forward, palms resting on either side of his face. Just a breath apart. You stare at his face, taking in each part of him. The scar of his brow, the light moles adorning his skin. The soft curve of his lips. He is beautiful, no doubt.

“I do like you, Kim Hongjoong. Despite how out of your mind you are.”

His hands go to rest on your thighs, lids heavy as he stares at you. His smile rises, gaze now on your lips. “I’ve lived with you for many lives. Each one different from the next. I’ve known your soul longer than you've known yourself. It's fairly easy to know when you’re being deceitful.”

You ignore how your body shivers as his hands travel to your hips, squeezing slightly. It’s a game he’s played for thousands of years, while you’ve only known him for less than a percentage of that. But one thing you do know: you are his weakness.

“How can I prove it?” You ask, leaning closer. Your nose brushes against Hongjoong, a shuddered breath escaping his lips. His grip tightens on your hips, pressing you harshly against him. He presses against your lower stomach, hard against your softer skin.

“You tell me.”

"Have you ever…?" You trail off.

He rolls his eyes. "I've fucked before, love. Just never with you. Something always seemed to get in the way. You dying, mostly. But I have never made love." His lip brushes against your forehead.

"I don't love you," You murmur, and he only laughs.

"Even you aren't a good enough liar to convince me otherwise. But all I ask is one thing from you." He watches your gaze, hand dragging along your body, before touching your face. “I want you to be mine,” his fingers release your chin, slowly wandering along the outline of your jaw.

“All yours?” you breathe.

“Mine,” he agrees with a whisper so low that you feel it all the way down to your pelvis. His hand suddenly slips downward to firmly grasp the back of your neck, pressure light. “Let me be yours.” The feelings that stir in you now as his head tilts to the side and he wets his bottom lip are separate from anything that may be fearful — and that’s the thought that terrifies you. There’s no use in saying that you’re not attracted to him; you always have been. The realization that you're beneath him now, after so long of resisting and fighting the temptation — you can’t deny the frantic pounding of your heart. And you wouldn't be able to fib in the slightest, Hongjoong can feel it as it goes anyway.

“You’ve tortured me for so long,” he leans closer to you, free hand resting on the side of your body, trapping you beneath him. “I have to admit that I’m shocked to see you beneath me this way. Is this unwanted?” he asks softly, eyes flicking between yours. “Despite my desires, I wouldn’t want this to be forced.”

You have an agenda. And a small part of you feels as if he might know what it is. But the way he’s looking at you now, a glimmer of hope shines beneath it.

“No,” you reply. With that, he takes your mouth with his own. His soft lips press ardently against yours, desire spilling each time he slightly pulls away. Your hands slide into his hair, body relaxing into the mattress. You part your lips, his tongue seeking out yours whilst he grabs a hold of your thigh to drag both your legs closer to him He lies himself on top of you, and all the while his darkened eyes never once leave yours, his jaw tensed but breathing heavy.

As Hongjoong delves back in, his tongue rolls inside your mouth and he lets out a low-pitched groan, your body arching up into his palm that begins to fondle your breast through your shirt. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging harshly as his hand grips the top of your shirt. Fabric rips and exposes your bra, he scoops your breast from the cup, a relieved sigh escaping him.

“You're so soft.”

“Joong,” you whimper, front teeth sinking deep into your lip, fingers grabbing at the soft white cotton that covers his shoulders.

Hongjoong's face lightens up at the sound of his name escaping your lips, dipping to his head to encircle the entirety of your nipple with his mouth. He sucks, gently circling his tongue around and smiling when you moan.

His warm hand reaches for the opposite side of your chest and cups you, switching his mouth to the other, biting and tugging. Just as you're about to say his name again he presses himself into you, his hardness pushing harshly into your pelvis. He doesn’t stop sucking until you're twisting on the bed.

“In awe," you hear him say. You meet his eyes, “You haven't the slightest inkling how long I've waited for you, my sea. I wish I could spend all night with you. Unfortunate that you have to be somewhere in the morning.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Where—"

He interrupts, slowly lifting your shirt up and over your head, hand only giving a slight tug to your pants, the tear echoing through the air as he tosses them to the side. You could only pout, your pile of fabric, one of your favorite sleepwears.

"I'll give you the world, y/n. No need to worry about a couple of pieces of clothing." Unlike the others you have been with, his touch is softer, slowly rubbing the plushness of your thighs, lips trailing delicate, wet kisses against the skin.

“Please,” you moan softly, peering down. Hongjoong looks up with a devilish curl to his lips, his smile to die for.

“Yes?” he replies, mock innocence coating his gaze.

“Please touch me, Joong.”

After having fought against Hongjoong’s yearning for you for close to a year, it feels more than off to let these words escape your lips. Your body is practically on display beneath him, his lids heavy with lust as they take you in. He seems to enjoy the moment differently than you, for many reasons you'd rather not dwell on for long. Hee slides it down to the middle of your legs, hot breath tickling your skin. You can feel how your underwear clings to you because of your arousal, almost forgotten from how his eyes seem to want to take you apart.

“All for me?” he groans as his fingertips slip into you, pressing kisses to the angle of your jaw. “So wet.” Hongjoong traces the outline of you, brushing teasingly over your clit. “I must admit, it feels good knowing this is all for me.”

You say nothing, only meeting his eyes with want in your gaze. He licks his lips, head tilting slightly as he stares at you.

“I know, my sea. I always knew.”

He knows nothing.

He hooks his finger on the fabric lining your hips, a quick tug ripping it with ease. You throb at the act. His body pressed to yours and his fingers hovering so close to you —

How easy it is to succumb to him.

"I've been waiting centuries, lovely," Hongjoong whispers against your skin. "It's made me a bit needy, you know. But I need to know if you want me as I want you. y/n," his hand raises to your face, tilting it so that you meet his gaze. "Do you want me?"

Making the decision to go through with this, to let him take you now — some part of you knows it isn't the wisest decision. It will only make your choice of killing him more difficult down the line. But if this is what it takes to have Hongjoong believe your every word, you'll do it. An even smaller part of you knows that despite everything, you want this. You want him. It feels as if hours have passed of your silence, Hongjoong neither getting closer to the center of you or moving his hand from your face. He waits patiently, just as he has waited for a time incomprehensible to you.

"I want you, Kim Hongjoong."

You see the shift in his gaze in an instant. His brown irises slowly fade, eyes glistening over to a pure white. The sight doesn't scare you as much as it entices you. If you weren't in the heat of the moment you'd scold yourself at how ridiculous you're being.

His fingers slowly rub circles into your clit, pressure increases each time he makes each round. Your hips grind into the movements, a silent plea for him to pick up the pace. He doesn't of course, the devilish grin of his widening as he studies you. You've noticed that he's rarely ever left your gaze, as if memorizing this moment, solidifying this as your choice. And it is, in the end. He's asked several times if you want him. If it's a manipulation technique you aren't the wiser.

You feel his middle finger slip next to the first, lightly squeezing your clit, picking up speed and you let out a low moan, head tipping back, finally breaking the stare.

"All for me," he whispers. "Don't hide your moans from me, my sea. I know it feels good, yeah. Want more?" One of his fingers slips down, dragging around the outline of your entrance. He dips it in barely a centimeter, a stifled laugh escaping him when he sees you clench. "Do you?"

“Please.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers back up to your clit, pressing down, hard. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to control the sounds he pulls from you.

"Ah ah," He moves it away, pressing his lips to your fingers briefly. "If I could listen to the others take you, they can listen to us. They all hear us, you know. Amplified hearing comes with the territory."

Despite how your heart races, you clench at the thought of the others listening, Hongjoong's gaze flicking between your legs.

"Oh, you enjoy that, huh? Enjoy us listening to you have sex with someone else, thinking about us coming to your moans with someone else's cock inside of you?" He presses his lips against your stomach. "Wooyoung and Mingi like it the most. They're probably touching themselves right now listening to us." You clench again. "How filthy of my pretty sea."

"Joong—"

He slips two fingers inside of you. "Tsk, so impatient."

Hongjoong is halfway down the sofa, face placed between your legs. Palms flat against the inside of your thighs to spread you wide, his nose dug deep into, a cry escaping from your throat when his mouth covers your clit. You feel his tongue circle it slowly, your fists tightening. The pleasure is all-encompassing — he sucks noisily at the sensitive nub, your fists unclenching and finding themselves in his hair, pushing him closer into you.

He licks at you hungrily, your gaze flicking to his free hand slipping inside his own pants. “Fuck…” he whispers against you, diving back in as soon as the word leaves his mouth. He groans, the flat of his tongue pressed to your entrance as his face slowly rocks from side to side.

“Please,” the feeling of him takes over, your hips rising to meet each swipe of his tongue. The impending release is near, enough so that you’re not able to warn him. Your body trembles, your fingers gripping his hair so tightly you’re sure you’ve pulled out a few strands, his tongue continuing to lap at your core. It starts to linger into the range of oversensitivity, your hands pulling away from his hair and instead, hips moving away from his tongue. He chases you, pushing himself deeper into you.

“I can’t—” you say, but the words seem to go into one ear and out the other. He continues to lick, lips wrapped around your clit. He refuses to let go even as you lean up, his hands gripping your thighs, unmoving. “Hongjoong—” your eyes finally meet his.

They’re completely white as they stare at you. You can see the lift of his cheeks, smiling into you as he sucks. His hands move from your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer into his mouth. He lifts it for just a moment, enough to say one word. “No.”

The break is brief. Hongjoong covers your clit with his plush lips once more, sucking hard. He continues like this for over a minute, watching as tears stain your cheeks. The oversensitivity slowly molds into pleasure, your hips humping against his mouth. Your chest rises and falls, your peak coming much quicker this time. He pushes three fingers into you in an instant, a scream escaping you. He chuckles into you, his mouth finally away from your clit.

“Come for me, my sea. I want to see you come again for me,” he whispers. He doesn’t touch your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you with abandon, the sounds echoing around the room. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

You feel the pads of his fingers touch the spot inside of you, your breath hitching. He keeps them there, rubbing quickly against the rough patch. In an instant your thighs clasp his hand within you, humping violently as you lose yourself. He leans against your stomach, resting his head against your plush skin, watching you.

“Never thought you would be prettier, but look at you. Coming all over me, fucking my fingers.”

You can’t respond to his words, eyes closed as you try to come down from your high. He pulls his fingers out, the sound of him sucking them alluring, but not enough to open your eyes. He pulls you closer to him, finger dragging back to your clit. You pull back in an instant, eyes flicking open. He laughs, grin stretching across his cheeks.

“Already done?”

“Too much…” you swallow. He moves away from your clit at your words, placing his hand just above your chest where your heart lies. He moves up from your legs, head falling on the mattress, eyesight steady with yours. Despite how blown out his eyes are, despite how you can clearly see how aroused he is by the hardness pressed against your upper thigh, he hums, expression softening.

“Okay?” he whispers. For some reason the way he’s looking at you, the love in his eyes… it bothers you. Not because it’s ingenuine, you can see how real the look is. It terrifies you that the look calms you down, settles your heart. That you yearn for him to look at you again just as softly, as kind.

The voice deep in the back of your mind telling you that this wasn’t the smartest idea.

But of course, you ignore it. Out of selfishness or greed, you're not too sure. Hongjoong’s fingers stroke your cheek, humming when you lean into his touch. “You’re pretty,” he murmurs, thumb wiping the tear that falls down. “Even when you cry.”

He leans forward, lips covering yours. The touch is softer, you can feel the emotion he draws into it, tongue lightly flicking yours, the taste of you filling your mouth. Suddenly it’s sweeter, almost strawberry like as you continue to kiss. You don’t notice how you suddenly take the lead, sucking his lips, entering his mouth. He giggles at your movements, hands moving to pull your hips closer against his.

“Taste good?” he pulls away, laughing.

Your cheeks warm when you’ve realized what you’ve done, pulling away. A string of saliva parting your lips. He pecks you quickly, head back against the sheets. “Hm?”

Realizing he asked you a question, you furrow your brows. “How’d you do that?”

His eyes roll, “I’m a vampire, I can do anything I’d like.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You frown, and his laugh is even louder.

“And yet here you are,” he moves from his spot to hover over you. He’s pulled off his pants and briefs before you’ve realized it, the length of him resting against your stomach. He grinds it lightly into you, lip between his teeth. “Here you are under me, wanting me.” Holding himself up with one hand, he uses the other to squeeze himself, the sight making your mouth water.

“Thought you were done?” his brows raise, amusement coating his expression. “Unless you want more?” He moves away from you, sliding off the bed. He holds his cock in his hand, languidly stroking it as he stares at you. “Want to taste me?”

Your eyes flick up from his movements to look at his face. His brow raised, he waits for a response. Seemingly unable to respond, he moves closer, body leaning over so he’s directly in your line of sight. “I said, do you want to taste me, my sea?”

You nod, and he moves even closer, hand cupping your chin. You open your mouth now, “I do.”

He nods, letting go. “Go ahead.”

He moves slowly, steps closer and closer to you. Though he seems to be calm, you can see the way eagerness lines his features. He pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the side. You notice a few scars and tattoos on his body, a belly button piercing shining at you in the lower light. His fingers wrap around the base. He’s longer than you thought, but not as thick as you’ve once experienced. Still, your mouth can’t help but water.

“Open, pretty,” he murmurs. You open your mouth slightly, jaw lax. He rests his head against your lips, bending his cock toward you. He lets it sit there for a moment, his breaths heavy, precum coating your lips. His eyes stare at your mouth as he finally enters your mouth inch by inch, moaning when he finally enters. He continues, stopping when you gag. He twitches against your tongue, your eyes watering as you look up at him. His eyes seem to be glossed over, holding your head as he moves out. He moves slowly, in and out, hips rocking back and forth between your lips. You suck and lick, guarding your teeth to make sure you don’t hurt him, the weight of him against your tongue and angling your throat so that he can enter even more.

He groans, speed increasing. “You take me so well, look so good with my cock in your mouth.” Hongjoong pushes your head against him, your nose pressed to his pubic bone. He moves back a bit as you choke, whispering okays and telling you you’re taking him so well. Your hands wrap around his thighs as he fucks your mouth, your throat burning. You feel yourself clenching around nothing. He moves quicker, grinding into your mouth. Your hand reaches down to touch yourself.

He pulls out immediately, grabbing your wrist gently. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Only I get to touch you my sea.” He lets go, lightly nudging you back against the sheets. “Ready for me.”

“Fuck, yes,” you utter, and he only laughs.

“Scream loud for me, so the others know you’re being cared for well,” he grins. Hongjoong’s hips move forward into you without hesitation. Just as a moan tries to escape, he wraps his hand around your throat. His eyes stay on yours, looking to see if you’re uncomfortable. But all he sees is your eyes rolling back, his excitement increasing. He presses his lips against your cheek, moving to the side of your face, just next to your ear.

“Feel good, pretty? You like me inside of you, like me making love to you,” he bites your earlobe, pulling away. “You feel so good, so relaxed for me. Perfect.” Hongjoong eases himself out to slowly to sink back in, moving at a slower pace, the witch of his cock as it glides between your walls. “I’ve waited so long for this, Ca… y/n.”

His hips stutter as he gradually builds speed, grunting each time your hips collide. You reach for anything, deciding on wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He doesn’t resist, his chest pressed against yours, lips meeting one another’s. You’re too consumed with pleasure to notice the slip of tongue. He drives his cock into you, angling his hips directly at your g-spot. He releases your throat, one of his hands reaches for the headboard, driving into you harder, ”You take it so well.”

“Please,” your fingers dig into the back of his neck, piercing his skin. His eyes shift, darkening. The frame of the bed begins to bang loudly against the wall as his speed and force increases. He lets go of the board, gripping your hips and pulling them into each thrust of his. He fucks you harder, hip bones digging into your thighs. He swipes your hand away when you try to rub your clit. Shaking his head.

“You can come without touching yourself.”

“I can’t,” you cry out, trying to reach again. He tsks, pushing it away.

“Come from my cock only, y/n. I know you can do it.”

Your head tips back, the burning of your clit, begging to be touched. You focused on how he feels, how his cock drags against your walls. Just as you think you’re unable to do it, Hongjoong leans forward, teeth grazing your neck.

“Maybe I can help you out, want me to help you out, pretty? Want me to taste you?” His tongue drags against your pulsing vein. You nod without knowing what exactly he means, until his teeth sink into your flesh. You gasp from pain and pleasure,

The head of his cock pushes harshly into you as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips over and over as your orgasm takes over you, you clawing at his biceps in an attempt to hold yourself together. Hongjoong licks your wound, pulling away from you, breaths ragged.

Before you can come down from your high, in a matter of seconds the head of Hongjoong’s cock is inside you once more and you’re being fucked into the mattress, the movement of his hips frantic enough that you know you’ll be sore for several days.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong groans, snapping against you and making you bounce. “Want my come, pretty? Want me to come inside of you?” Hongjoong moans at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“Please, Hongjoong, please,” you gasp.

You hear him groan in response to your words as he presses his chest into yours, and all the while he continues to push inside of you you can feel his cock beginning to throb. His movements begin to falter, his breath heavy against your neck and you screw your eyes shut even tighter as you rock your hips upwards from underneath him to push him to new depths, urging him on. “Joong, please come. ”

“My sea,” he pants as his thrusts become shallow and hurried, his fingertips digging into the mattress to anchor himself, “Fuck.”

Finally, Hongjoong comes,, his hips pressing into you and then staying right there, buried deep within you. His fingers relax slightly from around your throat to allow you to drag in a deep, ragged breath, but Hongjoong keeps his hold. Chest still heaving against yours, you feel his lips come into contact with your cheek to press a soft kiss there, nuzzling your cheekbone for just a second before uttering into your ear.

“Look at me, my sweet sea.”

Your eyes open. His smirk is wide now, eyes crazed. You remember this exact look, one from the visions that you've seen. The one where Rose died beneath Jongho’s hands. Anxiety begins to rattles your body, the cloud of lust seeping away as it only seems to grow more sinister. He leans close to your ear, his soft lips brushing against the skin. It is only six words, but it brings the fear up too high for you to ignore.

"I know."

The stifling hot room suddenly grows colder.

"I know you lied."

His hand slowly wraps around your neck, fingers pressing into the flesh. It’s not enough to cause you to stop breathing, but enough so that you start to panic as he stares down at you. He does a test squeeze once, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

“Hongjoong—”

“Why would you try to trick me, my sea?” His brows furrow, hurt etched into his features. “Lead me on to think that somewhere deep inside of you, you cared for me? Why plant a fallacy in my mind? Why make me suffer?” He shakes his head. You feel his thumb press into the base of your neck, nail slowly digging. He hasn’t pierced your skin yet, but it’s close. “Speak.”

“To convince you—”

“To convince me that you care?” He finishes, and you nod. “I know you don’t care for me, y/n. I’ve known with each thrust, each moan of my name. I know what you look like when you make love, y/n. And I know what you’ve just done was anything but that,” he leans closer, his tongue dragging along your collarbone. “I know because I saw the others with you. They aren’t the only ones who enjoy the show,” he grins.

“You weren’t there—”

He agrees, humming, “I wasn’t. The good thing about turning, though. Their thoughts are no longer their own, their eyes are mine. I saw everytime someone entered you,” he lets his free hand cup your center, “I felt what they felt.” He slips a finger inside of you, “I saw your eyes roll back for them—” he moves it slowly, squeezing your throat tighter “—I saw you each time you lost yourself in them. Yunho,” he slips in another finger. “Mingi, oh that one was interesting—” his pace increases. “Wooyoung… poor him, he couldn’t even watch.”

He adds two more fingers within an instant, “And how could I forget the last one? Your Yeosang, your pretty, pitiful Yeosang. He’s always wanted you so badly, always wants to save you…” Hongjoong thumb rubs your clit, pace quickening. “He can’t even save himself…”

The door to the room opens, Hongjoong not bothering to turn around to see who it is.

“I didn’t ask you to come in,” Hongjoong hums, pulling his fingers out of you. He grabs the blanket on the side, covering your body with it, hand letting go of your neck. Your chest rises and falls, moving your gaze around him to see who's entered.

San and Yeosang stand there. It's too dark to see what they're wearing, but you're pretty sure it's the outfits from the concert tonight. Has time passed that quickly? You can still feel his fingers around your neck, anger between his words. If they didn't come in… if you weren't so involved… you're not too sure you would have lived.

Yeosang moves closer first, "You're going too far, hyung."

He leans up from the bed, not bothering to cover himself up. San lingers just behind Yeosang, eyes glued to your neck.

"Sad you couldn't join? I never interrupted the two of you, you should give me the same consideration."

"You were killing her, you were going to kill her." Yeosang looks at you, brows furrowed. "I wouldn't let you do that."

He stands, rolling his eyes. He grabs his briefs from the side, slowly pulling it up and over himself. "I was having fun, not killing her. The two of you need to relax a bit. Why would I dare hurt my sea?"

"The blood in her mouth? We can see it on her lips, Hongjoong. We aren't that ignorant."

You wipe your lips, staring at the blood coating your fingers when you pull away. You don't even remember when exactly he did it, or how. Was he going to kill you? Were you so filled with arousal you didn't even think about what was happening? Was that the sweet taste in your mouth? His blood? Your stomach turns at the thought. Hongjoong looks back at you. His white pupils are gone. replaced with the familiar brown. He raises his brow, tongue dragging across his lips. It's there where you see the cut in it.

"Tastes just like strawberries, doesn't it?"

The thought of his blood in your mouth makes you gag, rises from the sheets. You hold the blanket against you, reaching for the water bottle on the side table. Hongjoong grabs it before you do, taking a long drink, emptying it.

"Fuck you!" You yell, anger rising.

"y/n…" San moves closer to you. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

You grab your shirt and slip it over your body, hands trembling against the fabric. San helps you, picking up your sweats from the floor and passing it to you. Yeosang moves closer to Hongjoong, fists tightened.

"You were going to kill her, just like that."

"Don't start to give me a fucking martyr speech, Yeosang. You don't even care about her."

"You—"

Hongjoong reaches out, gripping Yeosang's neck. He slams him against the wall behind him, a scream leaving your mouth. San stands in front of you, hiding your body with his. He looks at Hongjoong with concern, "Hey, isn't this too much—"

"The two of you are a pair, aren't you?" Hongjoong frowns, "So hopelessly involved with y/n. At least she likes Yeosang. She barely even knows San. And here he is, fucking protecting her as if she loves him. As if she cares if he died."

The others soon appear at the door, crowding into the room. The wall behind Yeosang cracks as Hongjoong presses him deeper into it.

"Please stop," you beg, trying to get closer. San holds you back, preventing you from interfering. "He's just trying to protect me."

"If you didn't have Rose's soul he would not give a shit about you, my sea," Hongjoong looks at you, head tilted. "Your soul already saw him die once, it shouldn't matter if you see it happen again."

Yeosang looks down at him, fingers digging into Hongjoong’s hand. Eyes red, denying his words with the curl of his lips. "You'll never understand love, Joong. That's your problem."

"Enlighten me then, my friend."

Yeosang's eyes move to you, softening with such ease it breaks your heart. "Everyone knows I loved Rose, loved her more than she loved me, surely," his eyes flick back to his captain's. "And I loved her Hongjoong. I loved her with everything that I had, and I could barely function when she was gone." His voice breaks, eyes flicking between his. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't be able to love again. She was my first love, but y/n…" His eyes move to yours, softening. The look only makes your heart crumble even more. "She is my greatest."

Your hold on San's arm loosens at his words. You love him. You've loved him, with every part of you. You love him to the brink of fear, afraid of the unknown.

"How sweet…"

He lets Yeosang go, wiping his hands on his underwear. He glances at the others around the room, frowning. "I wasn't going to kill either of them."

"Let's go, y/n," San whispers, slipping his hand into yours. Yeosang catches his breath on the floor. He lifts his head to meet yours. As if telling you everything is alright. That he's okay. San tugs again, and you follow him out the room, parting the small crowd that formed in the doorway.

"Do you know if she truly loved you?" It's an appalling question, one that would throw them for a loop. It seems to leave Seonghwa speechless, mouth parting to speak, closing again. "Did she love you?"

It's been over a day since the incident, Hongjoong moving around as if nothing happened. Yeosang does as well, not mentioning it at all. It was enough of a headache for you to ask Seonghwa for a break. The house feels more stuffy than usual. You sit in the park not too far from their business, swinging your legs back and forth. It was silent while you walked here, but you couldn't help but ask. They love her so dearly, so much. You doubt she felt half of what they did.

"She said she did, she told us she did. Why are you asking?"

"Because if this is the way you express that you love someone, I'm not so sure that she did. If she taught you how to love, this isn't love, Seonghwa."

"I feel like if it was anyone but you telling me this, I'd be furious," he admits, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. "If I may be forward, why do you think so?"

"I don't know," you purse your lips. "I don't know how it was for you back then, how the world was. Maybe my thoughts are more modern in comparison, but I don't think love wants to force you into this mold. If we're humans and you told me you wanted to become this, I think I would be upset for a bit, but I wouldn't tell you to stay a human because I want you to. Though back then, monsters were more of a real thought rather than folklore. I don't think it means that I wouldn't care, it just means that despite it all, I believe you'll still be the person I care for."

You glance at him, leaving out the obvious afterthought. This form changed them. You're sure that Rose died because of their choices. Because they changed. And not in a good way. Their "love" twisted into something unrecognizable, cruel, obsessive, greedy. Dangerous. Subin’s descriptions were mild in comparison to how they actually are. How could Wooyoung just kill Yeosang with ease? Hongjoong almost injuring Yeosang, attempting to turn you?

"I'm very careful when I tell someone I love them. Because for me it is an admittance that my care for you has no bounds, that with everything we will go through I will fight my hardest to make it work. I will stick by you. And I don't feel that way for most of you."

It's a lie, it's a filthy, dirty lie, but you let yourself say it anyway.

He nods slowly. His fingers slowly fold, legs crossed. "It is all a pity, then. I tried my hardest for you, doe. But it seems to be a moot end. I promised them that you would admit your love for us. Stubbornness has always been your strong suit, no matter how many years have passed by. I wanted to save you."

You look around the park. It's quieter in comparison to before. Swings empty, older couples gone. Not one soul, not even a bird chirping. It's eerie in itself. You turn to him, and he looks at you with sorrow.

"One word was all I needed."

You stand up, chest rising and falling quickly. "Hwa—"

"It's calming. Different in comparison to how we turned Rose. I hope you understand that this was a unanimous decision, doe. All of us thought this was the best way to keep you from running away."

He stands and you hold up your hands, shaking your head. "This isn't the way to get what you want, Seonghwa. Repeating the past isn't the way, you know that."

He tilts his head, a light pout decorating his lips. "This is me saving you. Can't you see it?"

You ignore his words, turning around. The closest place is the club just across the street. The one they own. Hiding is the last thing you want to do, but there’s nothing else. Maybe there’s something left over from the fight they had there weeks ago. If you could find your way through the hallways and into the back — maybe there’s a chance you can save yourself. Maybe there’s a way out.

"I'll give you a headstart, doe. At least give you some hope. Go ahead," he nods.

You don't hesitate. Your legs move quick as you run across the empty street. The door to the club is open and you enter, locking it behind you. A part of you wonders why you don't question it, but fear drives you now. You run into a side room, grabbing a knife that Subin left hidden, just before they came to save you last time.

"This will kill them," Subin says to you, dragging his finger along the blade. "It is made from the metal that killed their first love. Hongjoong would be much harder to trick, but I'm sure you can do it."

You stare at it, shaking your head. "Subin, I don't think—"

"Start thinking then, y/n. You won't be free. Not unless you accept their obsession with you, or kill them yourself. Your soul will continue to be stuck in the same perpetual nightmare. You have to stop it. You have to, y/n." His brows soften. "For every iteration of you that has died. Do it for them. Do it for you."

It's the first note that makes you stop what you're doing. You hold the knife in your hands, your grip loosening as you stare out into the hallway.

The familiar tune of the piano. Despite the name of the club you've rarely heard it — the group is a rock band, of course. So hearing the soft melody of Clair de lune echo in the dark is more than what you expect. It's a beautiful song despite this circumstance. You used to love it until this very moment — were they here the entire time? Have they watched your every move once you left Seonghwa in the park?

Were you ever truly alone?

The echo of your shoes add to the music, hushed breaths. There's no use in trying to control them, they know you're here just as you know they are.

"Must we play this game with you?"

You stop moving, gaze glued to the darkness. Your fear overrides your sense of the moment. Who was it that spoke?

"Why run? Is it not beautiful for there to be people who already love you as you are? Why would you try to escape love that is unconditional?"

Still, your mind seems unable to figure out who exactly it is. Is it some sort of talent they have, disguising their voices? Luring you deeper into the darkness? You stop moving.

"Pretty, we already know you're there. No need to try and hide."

Pretty? There's doubt that Yeosang would scare you this way, but it isn't impossible. Not after what you've witnessed at that restaurant.

"What can we do to convince you to stay?"

"Let me go," you whisper. "Finally let me go." Clair de lune rises in volume, your heartbeat throbbing in your ears. "Find someone else to love you. I will never be her."

"You are her, my sweet doe. And you always will be."

Doe? Is it Seonghwa instead? Footsteps catch your attention. They're at the far end of the hallways, slowly ascending, closer and closer to you. Risking waiting for whoever leaves the darkness isn't wise. You know that it'll only lead someone to you back in their home. Back in their arms. You slide the knife back into its place, quickly turning on your heels. You haven't had the chance to explore the club, too engrossed in them to figure out every nook and cranny. You push open a door, locking it behind you quickly. Just as you turn around, your stomach falls.

“What are you?” You say softly.

“It’s easy to guess,” Yunho shrugs.

“Shows at night. Hwa drinking blood, our cold skin. Points to only one thing.”

“We're vampires.”

It's the same room you met them. The velvety couches, the bucket of cell phones on the back table. You were full of life back then, though afraid you stood your ground. And now here you are, back in the same place as before. Will it ever end? Is this a sign that no matter what, you will always follow the same path? Your fingers brush against the knife.

Should you end it here?

"I won't let that happen again, doe," Seonghwa enters the room, hands tucked in his pockets. He moves closer and closer to your frozen figure, hand slipping down your side, pulling the knife away. He stares at it for a moment, worried expression hardening. "Who gave this to you?"

"Subin."

His eyes narrow, grip tightening. The silver bends with ease in his hands, crushed in his palm. He sighs, eyes closing for a moment. "It was the knife that killed Rose, y/n."

“Hwa, what did you do—”

“Do you think I’d allow you to hurt yourself? I said we were going to save you, and you try to do something like this?” He sighs. “We’re trying to protect you the best we can—”

“This is not protecting, Seonghwa. Both you and I know you. I expected things to be different with you. I thought you changed.” Was everything a lie? Every step of the way to get you here, in front of him, about to die?

Are you just that stupid?

“What do you want us to do? Let you die, again? We’ve already done that, y/n. I can’t wait another one hundred years for us to go through the same routine.”

“You’re selfish—”

He laughs, combing his fingers through his hair. “And what if I am, hm? It doesn’t matter; once I turn you, once you become one of us… I can make you forget.”

The same blank look in Yeosang’s eyes.

You back up away from him, gaze resting on yours. It’s not sorrowful in the slightest. It’s settling within you; you expected this eventually. The contemptment, the resignation. He will kill you. You’re not leaving this room without spilling blood. “You never believed I loved you, Seonghwa,” you whisper, back against the wall as he moves to you. “After all this time, you’ve never believed it. But I have.”

“Don’t lie,” he mumbles.

“I did love you, so much. Why do you think I’ve often come to you? I trusted you, Seonghwa. I knew you cared about me, not just my soul. It’s pathetic, really, how much I relied on someone that would go against me in the end. It’s even more pathetic that I’m not angry with you. I’m just sad.”

He shakes his eyes, fists tightening. “You’re allowed to be angry.”

“But I can’t be. I don’t think either Rose or myself was ever really angry with you.”

"You will never lose me."

You can barely make out his words, his fingers digging into yours, light sobs falling from his lips. You hold in yours, letting your forehead rest against his. It feels as if you're mourning him when he is right in front of you. The fleeting wish of knowing him sooner so that you may have spent time with him as he is now crosses your mind. And with horror, the small thought of you living as them so you can know them longer lingers.

"I love you ever so much, Seonghwa," you say. "And I will not make you listen to what I want. If this will make you happy, then I will accept your decision."

Seonghwa presses his palms against his temples, his last sincere moment with you crumbling.

“I would not have asked anyone else to be here with me when I die, Seonghwa. Please let me go.” Rose’s blood spilling onto his clothing, between his fingers. His cries echoing around the ship's chambers.

“y/n, please,” he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Your finger slips into the hole in the wall, the cold metal of a knife resting there feels against your fingertips. Seonghwa’s back is turned to you, and you quickly pull it out, gripping the handle. Despite the fear that overwhelms you, consumes you, you do it anyway. You press it into your chest.

Exactly where the birthmark of the scar is.

The smell of blood hits him before he sees it. The pain is overbearing, your hand dropping from the handle, body limping forward, almost touching the floor. The sound of the door slamming open, wood splitting at the force. The warm touch of hands catching you just before you fall. His grip is tight, blood sputtering from your lips as you look at him.

"No, no…" His grip on your shirt is tight. You're used to the mirrored emotions, the fakeness dripping from his expression. It's nothing like now. The way he holds you, his face pressed against the fabric of your soaked shirt, sobs escaping his lips. Despite the loss of blood, despite it all, you feel your own heart breaking.

"You have to let me go, Joong," you can’t say it of course, the pain too overwhelming to speak through. "You have to."

“I can’t…” he utters. A cold touch of hands pulls you into his lap, Hongjoong letting you go. You can’t quite tell what’s happening around you, but you hear shouting, furniture breaking. Your vision begins to blur, fingers holding you close to their body. His hand covering your mouth, whispering soft words to you. You don’t feel tears against your skin, but you can feel how he holds you, hands trembling. You just wish that you knew who it was.

The knife is slowly sliding out of your chest, the pain enough to make you lose consciousness within an instant.

“It worked.”

“I told you it would.”

“Fuck off, San.”

“Why are you arguing in front of her? Hey pretty peach, it’ll be alright.”

“Still calling her a peach, after everything?”

“You know what-”

You gasp, leaning forward. Hands stop you from moving too quietly, soft words comforting you for the moment. Your eyes flick around, brows furrowed. Mingi, San, Yunho… Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho… You continue to circle through the men, one missing. Just as you begin to ask, your head turns to the side. Wooyoung holds you up steady, a sweet smile on his lips. He brushes loose hairs away from your cheek, humming softly.

“You okay, pretty peach?”

You nod slowly, looking down at your hands. They’re free of blood. Wait, should they be covered in blood? “What happened?” you ask.

“One of the attendees at the concert took some bad shit, and you drank from them. It hit you pretty hard and you passed out, but everything is alright now. You’re okay,” Mingi says, nudging Yunho. “I told him to keep an eye on you since you’ve just started this, but he let it slip his mind.”

Yunho rolls his eyes, “I went to the bathroom.”

“Enough arguing, please?” Seonghwa murmurs, smiling at you. “Ready to go to bed, doe?”

You steady yourself off the floor with the help of Wooyoung, thanking him. “Okay.”

Everyone begins leaving the room one by one, Yeosang staying with you. He guides you to the bathroom, asking for permission to help you into the bath. There’s no need to say no, no use for it. He’s been with you since the beginning of your transition since that fateful night at Hiraeth, where you met them all. You sink into the warmth of the water, leaning your head against the side. Yeosang sits there, watching you silently.

“Are you alright?” he asks, thumb brushing against your temple. “You worried us.”

You nod, a smile on your lips. “I’m always alright when I’m with you.”

The expression he gives you back is peculiar. Smile quick, strange. His eyes linger on the scar on your chest. “Okay. I’ll give you some time alone,” his lips brush against your forehead. “See you soon, pretty.”

Just as he closes the door, you lean from your spot. You didn’t mention it even though you should have. Crescents scarred his throat, the imprint of a hand stared at you as he helped you bathe. Your mind told you to stop questioning it, to let it go. But you just couldn’t. The sight looked so familiar, filled you with such fear. Like you were missing something right in front of you, but you just couldn’t grasp it. The eerie feeling began to consume you, clawing at the dryness of your throat, forcing itself into your heart through each beat.

A drum solo makes you stop. Your eyes move to the stage, focused on the man whose drumsticks fly through the air, foot tapping on the bass drum pedal, eyes closed completely as he plays. The crowd screams. But you can only stare. Watch as he expertly plays, lips curved into a smile. Blue hair pulled back with a headband. His eyelids open, immediately looking at you.The burgundy color keeps you in place. He tilts his head, observing you. He hits against the crash cymbal and pulls you away from his mesmerizing gaze.

“...Hongjoong,” you breathe.

He takes out a necklace, holding it between his fingers. “But with the long lives we have lived, it will be unfortunate if someone decided to bring the force of the law against us. I’d rather not spend my days rotting behind a prison cell. Not that we would, of course. But it is helpful, nonetheless.” The necklace drops to the table, a wince from Yeosang catching your attention. “But we didn’t bring you back here to tell you about how San practices law. This piece of jewelry, can you touch it?” Hongjoong slides it against the glass to you. Oddly, it doesn’t scratch at all.

The room grows silent; only the muted music filling the air. You stare at the jewels, the emerald color quite vibrant in the low light. Your curiosity almost outweighs the red exclamation points of danger. So despite it, you only stare at it then flick your gaze to Hongjoong. He tilts his head, waiting for you to respond.

Your hand lingers on the emerald necklace resting between your collarbones, warm despite how cold your skin is.

You remember.

How your soul mourned.

Yeosang pressed his cut hands to your lips just before you died. The others dragging Hongjoong off Seonghwa, barely saving him. Bringing Hongjoong to the brink of death.

When in reality, he was just gone. He disappeared after the night you turned. None of them could figure out where he went. They all simply accepted that he’d never come back. Little do they know what you know.

You held him as you felt his skin grow colder than it ever was. As his fearful eyes lost themselves in yours, and became colder, emptier. You stayed with him, cradling his soulless body tight against your chest. His blood seeping into your shirt, dripping down your leg. The knife thrown to the side; fingers wrapped around the cut on his throat to stop it from bleeding despite how much he tortured you.

The others would tell you how you shed tears for the first time over the man. How your screams were so gut-wrenching, even Yeosang struggled to pull you away. How months later, you woke from your slumber crying out his name. And strangely, how you never recalled any of it at all. They made you believe he’s dead. Yeosang turned you, coerced your mind into perceiving Hongjoong’s blood coating your fingers. You still recollect how clearly the scenery changed around you when you sobbed over his body. Dark background blending into the warmth of the summer dawn.

What a surprise it’ll be when they find out otherwise.

tags: @revehosh@mrcarrots@belletiny@sansblkgirlfriend@hwadump@honeyedtalisman@atzcoke@glitterhongjoong@whatudowhennooneseesyou@marievllr-abg@arkive78@dysftopia@kpopnightingale@wxnderingthoughts @jenniee-tm @hongshines@atinytease @multidreams-and-desires @yla-aira@wommypeaches@avantalem@youre-a-wallflower-charlie@toxicccred@xciiiomwliah@madelinelina@kirooz@a-tiny-teez@tenebrisirae @ageofjade @n0v4t33z@yoongiigolden @jonghoharibo @fl0r4f4wn @gh0stbish @kodsukein @vitrealislux@sarcasticsagittarius1998@spiderrenjunfics@aeoliannie @tannie13@leeknowsalot@xshansimsx@seojonneh @shingene @justconniez@mingi-banana@anushka-k@nightmarej1n@watamotee33@dear-dreamie@the-ghostest-with-the-mostest@jaxavance@malyxsoulpersonal@az-con@charreddonuts@beautysirens@sunukissed@lixpixstix

#fic: clair de lune #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #jongho x reader #ot8 x reader #thank you for this journey... love you all <3

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obsessedvibee · 8 months

Text

Glowing Embers

Pairing: Benny!austin & Kathy/reader in the bikeriders universe

Disclaimer: I know nothing about biker gangs. I read a wikepidia page about them to give me a bit of knowledge but that's literally it. I just wanted to write a story/smut involving Austin's character Benny. This fiction has nothing to do with the actual movie story line. I got this entire story idea from the Bikeriders trailer. But if you pay attention you'll notice some lines & short scenes I tied into here from it. (Obviously smut is not in the trailer, nor do I know if any will be in the movie involving him....but I sure wont complain if there is..!!)

Summary: Benny and Kathy find themselves caught off guard when members from a different biker gang show up at their home. And Benny keeping Kathy in the dark about what's truly going on leads her to accusing him of cheating. Smut ensues.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ smut, overstimulation, squirting, cream pie, unprotected sex, a little bit of orgasm denial, light roughness, smoking, drinking, guns...I think that's all of it?

The breeze of the humid night air filtered in through the open window next to me, making my skin clammy. The leaves rustled in the trees nearby, a few crickets singing in the distance. It’d be a relaxing night if only Benny were here.

The sun set hours ago. Benny only told me he had some business to take care of before he left in a rush, the roar of his harley fading off into the countryside. I lost interest in the television three sit-com episodes ago. Now a book sat in my lap as I reread the same page over and over again, trying to will my mind to let go of the worry that grew by the hour.

My ears perked when I heard a rumble in the distance.

Benny.

Relief flooded through me.

He’s safe.

I left the book on the couch, quickly padding over to the front door, peeking through the side window watching for the single headlight coming down the driveway; but my excitement was short lived. Through the trees there were two bikes already waiting at the end for him. I held my breath as I watched Benny stop his bike. The other two men proceeded to get off their bikes and began approaching him.

Something wasn’t right.

In a panic I tore open the front door, “hey!” I hollered, running down the steps of the front porch. The gravel tore at the soles of my feet with every step. I had absolutely no plan as to what I was going to do to stop them, but distracting them was the first thing that came to mind.

One of the men glanced over, noticing me, grabbing the attention of his friend. They paused their approach on Benny. “The young pup’s ol’ lady was waiting up for him,” the larger man spoke. “Ain’t that sweet of her?”

My skin crawled as his eyes followed me.

“She has nothing to do with this,” the warning was clear in Benny’s voice as the shorter man continued his prowl towards me. “Kathy, get back inside.”

“And that's where you're wrong,” the larger man corrected. “You got hitched, so she’s a part of you now, boy.” He took the cigarette that was hanging from between his lips, and tossed it into the gavel. “You play around on our territory, we play around with yours.”

“That was never yours to begin with!” Benny snarled.

My arm was suddenly grabbed from behind, the shorter man's fingers digging into my flesh, making a pained sound escape my throat.

Benny lunged forward, “get the fuck off of her!”

In the blink of an eye, there was a slight nod from the bigger guy and immediately I was released. I quickly put space between him and myself. Benny shot past me going right for the other guy, a sickening crack was heard as his fist came in contact with his jaw. He stumbled back falling to the ground as Benny continued to swing time and time again.

“Benny,” I cautioned, stepping back, trying to snap him out of his rage.

The screeching of metal on metal caught both of our attentions. The other man had a knife lodged into the side of the gas tank on Benny’s bike. With a turn of his wrist gasoline began to trickle out onto the ground below.

Benny shoved the beaten man aside, quickly putting his body between them and I. “Get inside, Kathy.”

I stood frozen in shock.

“Now!” he growled.

I flinched, snapping out of my frozen state, making my way back to the house. I climbed the steps, and as I reached for the knob of the front door a gunshot split through the night air. My heart leapt into my throat as I spun around, my blood running cold.

Benny was holding a pistol to the sky, a cloud of smoke still coming out of the barrel.

I put my hand to my chest, relieved he was the one making the shot. The two men got a pep in their step, hurriedly getting on their bikes and roaring off into the night.

He reached behind him shoving his pistol back into the waistband of his jeans before making his way to his bike to survey the damage. Shaking his head to himself, he pushed his bike up the drive, putting down the kickstand to let it rest for the night beside the house.

He walked back to meet me, the porch light finally illuminating his face. He had a small nick on his forehead just above his eyebrow, a trail of blood slowly running down his face. His hands reached out to cradle my arm tilting it this way and that. Seeing I was injury free, he let go to cradle my face between his strong hands. He gently brushed the few stray hairs that were caught on my lips. His eyes were clouded with what almost felt like sadness. Disappointment maybe?

“Benny, I’m fine.”

The brooding look on his face only darkened further, “those mother fuckers are lucky they didn’t leave a mark on you, or I’d have ‘em surrounded right now.” He let go of my face, turning away clenching his fists, as the rage inside of him grew. “They come here to my house,” he walked over to the side of his truck, “and come terrorize my wife!?”

I flinched as his fist collided with the side mirror, bits of glass falling into the gravel. That alone hardly made a dent in calming his frustrations. He continued pummeling the driver's side window.

My patience thinned with every hit.

When he finally got the window to crack, I decided I had seen enough.

“Benny, that’s enough.” I had seen a copious amount of violence for one night.

His wild eyes met mine, anger still boiling under the surface.

I sat on the stoop, holding my hand out to him, “c’mere.”

He closed his eyes with his head tilted back, taking a few breaths before allowing himself to come over. He slowly placed himself next to me, his fingers fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. With a few swipes of his thumb a flame appeared casting an orange glow onto his face as he cupped his hand around it to light the stick between his lips.

I stayed quiet watching him as he took each drag, the end glowing as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs before exhaling. With each breath I could visibly see him relaxing, as if he were exhaling more than just smoke. Like every breath released a stressor into the air.

I leaned back against the railing, my eyes looking out down the driveway, where the one single street light shined, casting everything into a yellow haze. The events kept replaying in my head, their words circling over and over again. What could he have possibly done to instigate them coming to our property and adding me to the equation?

He tossed the small remaining end of his cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “I’m sorry.”

I looked over at him, watching his eyes staring off into the distance only glancing down as I placed my hand over his. I waited patiently for him to continue, but he remained silent. I sighed trying to keep my own frustration in check as he chose to keep me in the dark. I stood up, pulling him with me up the stairs, through the living room and into the bathroom. I closed the toilet lid motioning for him to sit as I pulled a few things out of the closet to patch him up. I put myself to work cleaning his forehead and hands as best as I could letting the silence linger. I knew the destructive rage was sedated in him for now, but I could still feel something was off with him. His boot squeaked against the tiled floor as his knee bounced, and his eyes kept flitting around the room, looking everywhere but at me.

“Benny, what happened?”

He bit his bottom lip shaking his head, getting up to slip past me.

I sighed in frustration at his silence. I put away the items scattered on the counter, and followed his footsteps into the bedroom. He was in the middle of shucking his jacket off, pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Quietly, I padded over to him pressing my front to his back. He was hot to the touch, the tension still rolling off of him. I reached for the handle of his gun, pulling it from his jeans.

He turned to me, his eyes flicking from the gun in my hands to my face and back again. I knew he trusted me, but I’ve never touched any of his weapons before. I never had a reason to. I rotated the gun in my hands, the light from above glinting off the metal barrel.

“Is this what this club is turning to now?” I looked up at him, my brows furrowed.

He ran a hand over his face taking a deep breath, “no.”

I dropped my hands to my sides, “we’re not going to get anywhere if you’re going to lie.” I reached over, placing the gun gently on the dresser.

“Wha-? I’m not lying, Kathy. This thing keeps getting bigger by the day! It’s bigger than me or Johnny ever expected it to become. Some of these guys just think they own the whole goddamn world, and they need to be put back in their place!”

“So it’s your job to start waving a gun around?”

He chucked his boot down to the floor with more force than necessary, “it got the job done didn’t it?” he stalked over to his dresser opening a drawer. “I needed to protect my territory.” He reached in pulling out some clean underwear. He shoved it shut, looking back to me before he walked back into the bathroom. “I needed it to protect you.”

I rolled my eyes following him to the doorframe, “oh don’t go making this my fault!”

He reached into the shower turning the water on before popping the button open on his jeans pushing them down and stepping out of them, “I know you wanna say it.” His blue eyes burned into me across the small room.

I crossed my arms.

“Since you have the answer to everything else, you have to have the answer to this too, right?” he sneered.

“I want you to quit riding!”

“Don’t ask that,” he snapped, throwing his finger towards me before discarding the last of his clothing and stepping into the shower.

I felt like I’d just been scolded, and quite frankly I didn’t appreciate it. I slammed the door announcing my departure before making my way to the kitchen and pouring myself a small glass of whiskey. I walked the house making sure each and every door had been locked and turned the tv off in the living room. I downed the rest of the glass, welcoming the heated burn down my throat. Leaving it in the sink for the following morning, I made my way back to the bedroom.

He was already out of the shower, his hair wet, standing in just his briefs. “I failed you tonight,” he said quietly, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper.

I knew my mind jumped too far and too fast, but I couldn’t control it. Confusion suddenly filled my brain when the words from earlier resurfaced in my head. You play around on our territory, we play around with yours. They couldn’t possibly be talking about catching Benny with one of their women, could they? It almost started to make too much sense.

He turned to face me, and upon seeing the look on my face he quickly defended himself, “not like that! Fucking hell woman why the hell would you even think that of me?”

“Well you’re not exactly giving me a whole lot to work with, now are you?” It was low of me to go there. Deep down I knew he wouldn’t, but the added shock and stress from earlier and quietness from him shortened my fuse.

He stepped forward towering over me, “you are the only girl for me.”

“I know- I know, I’m sorry, I- I- don’t know-,” My heart thudded beneath my chest as I stuttered at the close proximity, his damp skin and aftershave was starting to get to me.

“I promise baby, it has nothing to do with another woman.” He held my face with both hands, tilting me to meet his gaze, “you own my cock.”

Heat flushed through my body.

“You need me to remind you?”

It took all I had to resist him, but I was determined to at least get one answer out of him.

“How did you fail me?”

He sighed, getting agitated as I ignored his advances, “I need to protect you, and I failed to do that tonight.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They got their hands on you, and I swear to god, I could have shot that fucker that touched you.”

His masculine ego was bruised, being completely blindsided by being approached at our own home. Watching another man rough house me.

He needed something to make him feel back in control again. He still had all that tension coiled up in him. I finally took the bait.

“There's no other woman?”

A sly smile crept across his mouth and his eyes darkened, sparkling from the bedside lamp. “Get over here, you little brat.” He snaked his fingers in the hair at the back of my head giving it a tug forcing me to look up at him. “One more smart comment out of you and I’ll give you something to fill your mouth with.”

With that, he slotted his mouth over my own, his tongue entering my mouth quickly dominating. He pulled away with a little smirk bringing his thumb up to my lips pressing it inside. I swirled my tongue around his digit giving it a gentle suck before popping off of him. A growl resounded in his chest as he watched me. His hands reached down to the hem of my shirt and began tugging it up, exposing my bare abdomen to him. I helped him pull my shirt over my head, and my shorts hit the floor soon after.

He quickly pushed me back onto the bed and pulled my hips to the edge. He pulled my panties aside and dove in head first. I closed my eyes, letting him go to town. His mouth continued to work at my soft flesh, his tongue lapping hungrily.

Far too soon, he pulled away, and I whimpered at the loss. He yanked my panties off and discarded them to the floor. I anticipated the return of his warm mouth on me, but it never came. I propped myself up on my elbows looking down, only to see him with a little smirk, knowing and waiting. His arm flexed as he palmed himself over his jeans.

“Benny,” I whined, as I attempted to use my legs to pull him closer.

He hummed deviously, “I don’t think you deserve to cum just yet.”

Oh. Butterflies erupted in my stomach. It was one of those kinda nights.

“Scoot back,” he instructed.

As I shuffled back, he stripped down, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his thighs. He made his way to me, placing my head between his thighs. “Open up baby girl.”

I opened my mouth as he lowered his hips down slipping his cock into my waiting mouth. His salty precum flooded my tongue as I swiped at the head. I tongued at every inch wanting to work him up the way he did me. His own mouth found its way back to my area focusing on my clit, flicking over and over quickly bringing me back to the brink. I lifted my hips searching for something more, trying to tell him I wanted something more, something faster, but he backed off again instead.

I groaned in frustration around his shaft, the vibration earning a blurt of precum from him.

He started to piston his hips, his cock nudging the back of my throat. I gagged a bit, pulling a grunt from him.

I reached down, unable to resist the urge and began rubbing myself, craving a good release.

His hips faltered, never having seen me touch myself in front of him before. “Fuck.” I felt his breath on my hand. “Look at you, so desperate for me.”

He quickly became jealous of my own hand and pushed mine aside and his fingers went to work. He rubbed vigorously, and it was only a moment later I finally reached my peak.

Feeling a bit of compassion towards me he pulled himself out of my mouth letting me voice my pleasure. I cried out as I rode the peak, my body convulsing with the waves of rapture.

I eventually came back down to earth when I felt his hands at my hips flipping me over and lifting my ass up. “Time to fuck some sense into you baby,” he ran his hands up my waist and toyed with my bra strap, snapping it against my skin. “I hope you’re ready for a long night.”

I could only moan in response as he pushed into me. My wetness eased his entry and the tightness from my still-fizzling orgasm held his cock snuggly.

He cursed under his breath and stilled for his own sake. “You were made for me,” he murmured, before pulling his hips back and pushing himself back in.

He made work with his hands pinching the clasp of my bra, pulling the straps down my arms. It fell to the bed, but I too blissed out to even care to pull my arms out.

Draping his body over mine he reached around and cupped my breasts as they shook with every thrust of his hips.

I arched my back pushing into his hips to meet each of his thrusts, encouraging him to go harder. He quickly took the cue, his pace increasing. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, and his breaths became heavier. He mouthed at the shell of my ear, “you like it a little rough, don’t you?”

I already felt another coil tightening in my stomach. Goosebumps covered every inch of me as I felt his teeth gently graze my shoulder. One of his hands reached under me and started toying with my clit, making me gasp. “Gimme another one baby, I know you cum harder when you're sensitive.”

In the midst of dominance, he still managed to pay attention to the details.

I fell into the throngs of passion again.

He growled, as he felt my body squeeze around him. His hand suddenly came in contact with my ass, a quick bite to my flesh as the slap resounded in the room.

I shrieked, the bed sheets clenched tightly in my fists. I shook with every tremor, while he continued his assault on my pussy as I rode out the euphoria, my core clenching down on him like a vice.

“Atta girl,” he praised, running his hand soothingly over the newly reddened skin on my cheek, moving to my back when I finally tipped the peak and started to come back down. His hand left my clit alone and pulled himself out of me making me groan from the sensitivity.

I collapsed rolling onto my back as I caught my breath, my whole body tingling. Cracking my eyes open, I saw him sitting back lightly stroking his cock as he watched me. His cock was an angry red; his fingers lightly grazing his tip and coming back down again. “You haven’t cum yet?” I breathed.

He chuckled, letting himself go, laying himself over me. I instinctively spread my legs open for him. He nudged at my folds as he spoke, “I’m saving the best for last.”

My toes curled as he pushed into me again. He quickly began an unforgiving pace, his thrusts getting harder as his animalistic side began to surface. He began to grunt as the force of his thrusts grew. “Only you, baby,” he assured between his groans.

Moments later he rolled us over placing me above him. “Think you can finish us off?”

I bit my lip, trying to stop my smile. I sat myself up and began to rock my hips, shifting his cock deliciously inside of me. All my cares were thrown out the window as I moaned out into the room not giving a single damn of how much I voiced my pleasure. I could feel a new sense of euphoria building in me, and I was desperate to get us both there.

I pulled out every trick I knew. I reached back and fondled his sac for a bit, I leaned forward and let him mouth at my tits for a while. I could feel the sweat beading at my brow and my legs were starting to burn as both of us started getting desperate but neither of us wanted to be the one to let go first. I leaned back placing my hands on his thighs letting him watch my pussy grip his cock. I shifted my legs, getting a better position to bounce on him.

“God, you are too fucking good to me,” he whispered stroking my waist.

Pride swirled in my chest. I leaned my body over him pressing my mouth to his as I rocked my hips. Every tilt forward pressed his pubic bone into my clit making me moan. I suddenly felt something different begin to build. I sat up with a small gasp.

“What is it baby?”

I reached for his hand, “just touch me.”

I placed his fingers on my clit and he began to gently rub but it wasn’t doing it. I touched his hand, “harder and faster,” I breathed. He obliged willingly.

“Something's different this time.”

A smirk began to play on his lips, “a good different?”

I was almost heaving for breath as my peak continued to grow, “yea.”

He bit his lip shifting his legs to get some more leverage to help thrust at a better angle. “Just tell me what you need.”

A different kind of pressure was beginning to grow in my pelvis as I continued to ride him, his cock nudging a sweet spot deep inside me.

“Just don’t stop.”

He kept rubbing and kept pushing his hips up into me when the overwhelming sudden urge to push came about.

I let my body do what felt right.

I squeezed my eyes shut and my jaw dropped as liquid suddenly spread between us and my head felt like it was higher than the clouds. A strangled cry clawed its way out my throat and I felt Bennys hands grip my thighs as he was catapulted into his own release.

My hand rushed to replace his hand on my now neglected clit as we both gripped each other for dear life. The pleasure tore through us simultaneously, both of us grinding our hips into each other prolonging the bliss.

I slowly came back to earth when I felt Benny’s fingers digging painfully into my thighs.

“Kathy- baby, baby- you gotta- hold on,” he moaned.

I stopped moving and he fell back laying flat on the bed, his abdomen heaving with his breaths. “Fucking shit,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to cut you short but-” he swallowed thickly, “just give me a minute.” He laid there for a moment with his eyes shut letting his body come back down. “Also, did I miss something, or did you just squirt?”

I half laughed, a little embarrassed by the wetness between us, “I honestly didn’t really know I could do that, I’ve never done that before.”

A groan escaped his throat as I gently pulled myself off of him, his release quickly running back out of me. “Benny,” I whined.

“Yep,” he replied, slipping out from under me, to grab a towel from the bathroom, “on it.”

Soon after we were both cleaned up, sheets changed, and we were both snuggled underneath.

He had me pulled into his chest, our legs intertwined, his fingers gently carding themselves through my hair.

“I’m sorry I accused you of being with another woman,” I murmured softly.

He let the silence beat for a few moments before replying, “I’m sorry I even gave you a reason to think that.”

The fan in the corner blew a cool breeze over us, and the sound of his steady breaths soothed me.

“It’s just so hard when I have nothing but time to think when you're gone, and then when you’re here, you hardly tell me anything that's going on.” He stayed quiet, listening to me. “You know how my mind works,” I added more quietly.

“I promise I’m working on getting things back under control, baby. Once Johnny hears of this, you won't have to worry anymore.”

He pressed a kiss to my hair. “Ain’t nothing going to happen to either of us, I’ll make sure of it.”

Need more? Check out my other works! > masterlist

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin x reader #austin benny smut #austin bikeriders #austin bikeriders smut

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Note

HiI would like to request two Minho x female reader please.

1. Minho gets in the shower ro relax and reader joins him and they are starting fluffy but when they start cleaning each others body things get heated and it turns into smut.

2. Reader and Minho liked each other but noone had time to explore the feelings. But when Minho gets back from that night with Thomas in the maze the reader is so happy hes still alive and there is some tension building up...later on the keepers meeting (book scene) where Minho is a total hottie and says the most iconic stuff as usual reader cant help herself and once the meeting is over she suddenly kisses him.

Thank youuuuu <333

Okay, yes I can totally do this, however I am still new and bad at tumblr so idk how (or if it's even possible) for me to respond to something twice. So, here is the first one and I will try to write both and post them at around the same time, so keep your eye out for the second :))

REWARD AFTER A LONG DAY'S WORK

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above- 1. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, guess I've put it off long enough so have some actual smut. Unprotected intercourse. Reader is on birth control because I said so, we ain't having any Glader babies running around. Unedited because I refuse to reread my own sex scenes- cope. Minors DNI 18+.

You and Minho have been dating for a while now. Everyone in the Glade knows because, well, it's kind of hard not to notice.

When Minho isn't out in the Maze, he's clinging to you like there's no tomorrow. Probably because for him, there might actually not be. His job is dangerous, and he could literally die every single time he heads out there.

So, he spends as much time as he physically can with you.

Not that you're complaining. You love Minho- I mean, who wouldn't? He's basically your personal guard dog, not to mention he's passionate and caring and does everything he can to make sure he's not making you uncomfortable.

He's literally the perfect boyfriend, much to the other Glader's dismay- it means you're probably not going to be single again anytime soon. And with you being the only girl, there's definitely some pouting in Minho's presence.

Speaking of your boyfriend, you haven't seen him since you greeted him at the Doors. He's been pretty busy recently, especially with Alby doubling down on the workload.

"Newt," you spot the blond from a mile away as he sits in a group of boys but that doesn't stop you from approaching him. People are starting to settle down for the night. The Doors are closed, dinner has been and gone, and the dim light of numerous flames is the only thing keeping the Glade alive. "Have you seen Minho?"

"Hm?" He blinks for a second, pulling himself out of his current conversation and processing what you just said. "Oh, yeah, he's in the shower- he got stuck in the Map Room late. 'Said sommet about needing to relax." The boy shrugs, clearly having not paid that much attention to his friend.

"Alright, thanks," you flash him a smile before heading in the direction of the shower block. The showers are actually normally empty at this time, because this is around the time that you take a shower, and the boys respect that.

"Minho?" The sound of running water fills the rows of showers, covered with curtains.

"Hm? Yeah?" He responds, voice gravelly and tired.

"Is everything okay? Newt said you needed to relax?" You creep further forward, not wanting to startle him as you stand outside of the closed sheet.

"Yeah," you can hear the smile in his voice, "yeah, I'm alright, just a rough day."

Silence settles as you can hear Minho quietly hum to himself out of satisfaction. You smirk to yourself for a second before you speak.

"Yanno, I also need to have a shower," you pause slightly, "do you mind if I join you?"

The curtain moves, not exposing Minho but he does stick his head out, smirking at you. "You wanna shower with me?"

You shrug, feigning innocence, "Might help you relax, yanno?" He rolls his eyes, dropping the curtain and letting it fall back in place.

"Get your ass in here." You snort a laugh, doing as you're told. You strip from your clothes, hooking them over the top of the curtain bar with Minho's clothes. There's no way you're leaving them on the floor. You're already taking a risk getting undressed in an open area- though the Gladers know better due to routine.

You move the worn piece of fabric, slipping into the small area as Minho has his back to you, hogging the water. Though, you take a second to admire your boyfriend's perfect form.

His back is muscular and toned- he's obviously got an athletes build. He runs the Maze all day, every day. But even so, seeing his perfect body us more than enough to have your heart racing, even if you see it pretty much every day.

"Are you gonna move, or what?" Minho scoffs as your blunt tone, stepping aside to let you squeeze next to him, allowing the luke-warm water to hit you both.

He looks down at you, his smile is soft as he drinks in your appearance. It's not like he hasn't seen it before- you guys struggle to keep your hands off of each other most of the time. But still, he always feels so lucky to have you, and he thinks you're gorgeous.

They could dump a bunch of girls in the Glade tomorrow and Minho wouldn't care.

You picked him- him! He at least has something good going for him.

"The shuck you staring at, pervert?" You joke and he jabs you in the ribs, causing you to squeak.

"Uh, my girlfriend? I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend last time I checked."

"I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend," you mock him, making him push his tongue into his cheek. "What happened today, anyway? I've barely seen you."

"Sorry," he mumbles, throwing his head back and letting the water wash through his hair, running down to the front of his neck and down his defined chest. "A couple of Runners are getting frustrated and have started causing problems. It happens every now and then after someone becomes a Runner, and they think they're gonna change the world or some shit, and then they throw a tantrum when nothing happens."

"That sounds pretty klunky," he hums in agreement. You and Minho are long past the honeymoon phase, but that's not a bad thing. You're comfortable with each other, and it also means you know one another, and your bodies, pretty well. "You want me to wash your back?"

"Of shuckin' course, I do," you roll your eyes at him, but you still take the soap off of the shelf. You run your hands over his back, letting your nails sink in, but you know Minho doesn't mind.

You trace your fingers over the occasional white line; the scars are old, and it's been a while since Minho's been seriously hurt. But they're still a bitter reminder that he's literally risking his life on a daily basis.

"Alright," Minho turns to face you, pressing a quick peck to your lips, "your turn- spin."

"You're not at scary as you look, you know that, right? The other boys would never let it go if they saw you acting like this."

"Yeah, yeah, but they're never gonna see it, are they?" You turn around, facing the wall as Minho's hands start to run along your back. "It's all for you." Minho has you rolling your eyes a lot, but you do release a snort as well at his cheesey behaviour.

You let yourself relax, melting into his touch as you lean back, resting your head against his shoulder. You let him massage you, feeling him press light kisses against your shoulder and the side of your neck.

"Minho.." You murmur, letting out a satisfied breath, feeling heat starting to surge between your legs. Minho had always been an expert at doing so little to get so much out of you. It's almost annoying, but definitely a skill to be sure.

"Hm?" His teeth graze against your throat from behind as his hands come to your hips. He's not forceful by any means, but you take the opportunity to push your ass back against him. He quickly reciprocates the action, as you feel him getting hard against you.

Likewise, it doesn't take much to get him going either.

His boldness grows as he very gently drags his fingers down your mid-drift. Your head starts to feel fuzzy, and you gasp as his hand only travels lower.

"Can I make you feel good?" He mumbles mainly into your hair as his warm breath catches against your ear. "Can I touch you?"

You nod, your words catching in your throat as you suddenly forget how to function.

"Use your words for me," it takes you a second, but overwhelmed by need in the growing steamy room, you manage to squeak out a vaguely strung-together sentence.

"Please, touch me, Minho."

He's more than pleased to oblige, dipping his fingers lower and between your folds. You breath hitches, becoming heavier as he starts to gently rub circles over your bundle of nerves.

His rhythm is painfully slow as he teases you, knowing exactly how to make you melt under his touch. You whimper, clinging to his arm for some kind of support.

Your body already aches for him, but with his current actions, he knows you're not going to achieve anything.

"Minho, please," you stress, grinding against his hand to try and desperately get some more friction. Well, he can't say no to you, so he increases his movements.

He adds a little bit more pressure, touching you exactly as you need to be touched. It doesn't take long for you to feel tense in your lower stomach, your body trembling, mumbling gasps escaping you.

And then Minho pulls away.

You whimper at the lack of contact, turning to face your boyfriend. An attempt of a pout is quickly dispersed as Minho pushes his lips to yours. You hum into his mouth as you let him push you against the cool wall of the shower.

One of your hands comes to the back of his neck as he holds your face and you hip. Your other hand brushes against Minho's hardened dick, breaking the kiss for a second.

"Can I-?" You ask.

"Please." He begs.

You run your thumb over the tip, feeling him shivering against you as you connect again. Slowly, you start to touch him more, but he doesn't let it last long.

"We've, uh, we've been un here a while- you wanna hurry this up before someone comes looking for us?"

You smirk. "Sounds like a good idea."

Minho's mouth goes to your neck, hiking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist. His teeth nip at your skin as you gasp, feeling him fill you.

His pace starts slow. Probably because you're not exactly in the most natural position. But with your soft mewling into his ear and nails carving into his back is more than enough to make him rougher.

He knows your body perfectly, and he can tell you're close simply from the noises you're making. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he still hasn't quite built up a resilience to your vagina just yet, which is why he puts more attention on you. Finishing too early is natural, but he's still embarrassed by it.

His fingers once again reach for your clit, and very quickly waves of pleasure are washing over you, leaving you trembling and moaning as Minho holds you in place.

After a few more thrusts, he groans, trying to use the crook of your neck to stifle his noises. His body relaxes, falling limp. You listen to his heavy breathing for a short while, taking the time to compose yourself.

"You good?" You chuckle as he pulls back, also pulling out of you. In response, he kisses you again.

"I shucking love you," he mumbles as he presses your foreheads back together.

You, once again, roll your eyes, but you can't help the soft smile playing on your lips. "I love you too, slinthead."

Yeah, okay, I've actually finally wrote smut. And it's not even good smut- I am not proud of this. But I also refuse to reread it because I cannot read my own sex scenes without cringing so y'all are just gonna have to deal with it.

I'm definitely better at writing spice and fluff- but I am here to entertain the people and ask and you shall receive.

Bit dramatic lmao, but anyway I hope y'all kinda enjoy :))

I am sorry.

#🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho tmr x reader #tmr imagines #minho maze runner

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rs-hawk · 4 months

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Do you have any writing tips? Even if it’s not necessarily for smut?

I won’t be touching on tips for smut at all on this post but I can make a separate post for it if y’all want.

My Top 10 Writing Tips

Love all your characters. Yes, even your antagonists. Hell, especially your antagonists. Even if they’re evil for the sake of being evil, if you want a 3 dimensional character, you have to acknowledge that they’re more than just evil to someone. Their mother. Their friends. Their dog. You have to think of their motivations, and honestly?-acknowledge that every character you write has a part of you in them. Maybe just your anger, your fear, your trauma, but love them for that, and it’ll shape them and your works in ways you never thought of.

Don’t reread your work too often! It’s hard (so very very hard) but when you have to crank out 2k words a day every day of the month but 2 it gets easier. Lol. Fr though just keep chugging along. You can reread later. You can edit later. Just get it done.

Don’t edit too much while you’re still actively writing. I know that’s hard, I really do, but if you keep rewriting, you’ll never be able to finish. You’ll keep writing a handful of scenes over and over again until you hate it, your book and yourself for “giving up”. You can edit later.

Write for yourself. It doesn’t matter how good of a writer you are, how beautiful or eloquent your style, if you hate it with every fiber of your being, it’ll turn to dust in your hands. I consider writing work, and when people enjoy themselves at work, not only do they do better, but the consumer enjoys it more. Think about it. If you’re at a restaurant and the workers are laughing and smiling with each other and seem genuinely happy, you’re more likely to go back than if they’re miserable, on the verge of tears and seem to hate being there, right? The same is true for your writing. Readers will enjoy it more if they can feel how much you enjoyed creating it.

Don’t just write. Listen to music. Get up and go for a walk. Text/call a friend. Watch a TV show. Pet your cat. Experience something. It helps you write but it also reminds you that hey, you’ve been here like eight hours. Get something to drink. Take a screen break. Go outside.

Be comfortable while you write. I’m not going to lecture you on posture because I’m currently laying down with my legs drawn up under me, my upper body turned and my phone in the air because I’m trying to put enough pressure on my lower back to pop it. Anyway, even if you can’t stay in one position long, switch. Listen to your body. A “proper” posture can end up hurting you if you don’t ever relax or if you’re putting too much pressure on your lower spine. It’s okay to lean. It’s okay to lay down. It’s okay to sit cross-legged. Just not at the expense of your body. Be aware, and don’t forget to get up and stretch!

Take breaks. Eat. Drink. Stretch. Go to the bathroom. Some people need them scheduled, and that’s fine, but also listen to your body. If you need to use the toilet but you don’t have another break scheduled for an hour, just go. Pause your timer or delay your alarm if you want, but take care of yourself.

Don’t be too rigid with your “starting” plot. We know most of us have that one scene or one character in mind we want to write, so we create a plot around them. That’s fine and I love it, but your writing is like a living creature. You might change while writing it. Your characters and ideas might change while writing it. Let them change. Let you change! You can edit later.

Remember it’s not a race. Just because you see some people dropping 3 novels a year, or 5 Tumblr posts every day doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. No one can write what you write. No one can create what you can create. Your work deserves to exist and be judged on its own merit. Not compared to anyone else’s, even if it’s you five years ago who could crank out multiple posts daily. It’s okay.

Don’t expect anything. Start writing because you love it. It makes you happy. It itches that part of your brain that no other hobby does. That no other love does. I’ve been writing for about 15 years now. I don’t know who I am without it. I have tried giving it up, moving past it, doing other things, but I always come back. Nothing else makes me feel the way writing does. I have gone years without writing, but when I start writing again, it’s like a high. I can go for hours, and I have! I have been lucky to be able to monetize my work, but it took 10+ years and was only because I got goofy about werewolves on a PTR app. You can’t go into the arts and expect to make money right away, or ever. You can hope, and do your best, but don’t only do it because you think you’ll make a living. It’s a sad but real fact. Capitalism makes us think we should only do stuff we can make money off of, but that’s a lie. You can AND SHOULD create just to create. Humans are meant to make art, and if writing is your canvas like it is mine, write to create. Fuck capitalism. Your art existing is enough reason to create it.

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months

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If Vorago were to see a human nearby (for whatever reason) would he fanboy internally? Or has he been in the presence of humans before? I just like imagining Vorago dropping something and a human picking it up and handing it back to him with a smile and in his mind he's suddenly replaying thousands of scenes that are similar to the very moment he's in that he's read in his romance books. Also I gotta ask, he's a frequent visitor of AO3 (or hell's version) right? You can't tell me he hasn't anonymously written his own human monster romance smut novels yet XD

Vorago has most definitely been in the presence of humans before. Usually not under the best of circumstances, as the ones that land themselves in Gluttony's royal walls are probably funneled into the kitchens never to be seen again- But there are some who strike deals with powerful fiendish figures, as humans always have. And, being the political actor he is, Vorago has secured and went over many deals with these humans. He's very good at maintaining a professional demeanor around them, but it won't stop his more honest forehead eye from occasionally stealing suspicious glances. Or that his fur won't stand if there's sudden contact. Internally, there are times where he genuinely screams.

God, if Vorago ends up meeting you because of something cheesy like you returning something he dropped, or the two of you knocking into each other- Maybe even him dragging you out of harm's way in reflex... He's never living that down. He's going to think about it for a while. He's absolutely already making 30 mental fanfictions about you and him, AUs included.

Yeah of course he's got an AO666 account. It's a lot more shameless than you'd expect. He's a half-decent writer but most of what you'll find there are endless bookmarks with human/demon romances and his critiques for each one.

He might commission something between you and him, with a bit of subtle description. Something he's going to read and reread and probably paw himself to a ridiculous number of times.

#Vorago oc

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junggunz · 11 months

Note

You know when I rereading your DG smut of request number that type "I have a lube and condom in the night stand". My brain just imagine the finished scene would be basically a bunch of used condom that balloon up from the DG's nuts that is tied at s/o ripped stocking like a scoring of how many round they have done.

the way that i read this and then needed to meditate on it before i said something is crazyyy. like i was gonna treat it like a regular thirst and just be like 'haha yeah dg has god like stamina. he could be a porn star for real' but the more times i read over this ask, the image kept getting stronger.

and boom now we have ✨dg crumbs✨

cw: gn!reader, reader is mentioned to be wearing lingerie heh, implied multiple rounds, very very short smut lol, stoplight/traffic light safe word system, kinda fluffy idk

It never fails to amaze you how DG seems to remain in a perpetual state of being camera ready.

Behind closed doors. When he first wakes up. While working out. And even when he’s pushed both you and himself to overstimulation. The amount of stamina this man possessed was a ridiculous feat on its own, but the way he manages to look like he’s only done some light jogging after giving you several Earth shattering orgasms all in succession of one another is crazy to you.

“Can’t…Can’t take anymore.” You gasp, in disbelief of how unforgiving DG’s thrusts are even with your tight, spasming walls trying to squeeze him out.

“Is it really too much?” He mumbles into the sweat slicked column of your neck, playfully biting the flesh and painting yet another love bite on you.

His hands are under your body, pulling you off the mattress and against his sturdy frame. One hand cups the plump flesh of your ass, groping it roughly to ensure you meet every single one of his animalistic thrusts while the other rests on the small of your back as a means of support.

The sound of his question has you second guessing yourself. So dazed and fucked out; it seemed like you couldn’t even recall what your own threshold for pleasure was. Pain and elation have been so muddled together, your mind and body just feel like a humid, swampy mess of perspiration, cum, drool and tears. Moans reduced to just a series of garbled whimpers and quietly babbled obscenities, DG eyes shift to your face; pulling back to take in your current state.

“Safety light.” The two words fall from his lips in a more serious tone, his eyes boring into yours as he awaits a response. Like a beacon of light in your clouded brain, he saves you from drowning in the sea of lust he had cast you out into.

“Red…” You mumble softly, slightly embarrassed by the fact you had become this overwhelmed; knowing how much DG relished in pushing your limits.

But he doesn’t protest when he finally unmounts you, leaving you to lay in the sweat and cum soaked side of the bed for now while he occupies the presently cleaner but still disheveled space beside you. Only now, are you able to realize just how long the two of you had been going at it.

Neatly tied off and decorating the elastic of the garter belt holding up your stockings, you count off…one, two, three, four—five very full condoms hanging off your lingerie like some sort of display to commemorate how even after an entire marathon of sex, he still has so much cum to offer.

Body buzzing and feeling like a heavy wooden box of bees, you half expect to look over at DG and see him up and ready to go again. Instead, you find him laying in bed with the sheets covering his modesty and the most tranquil expression gracing his beautiful features. Though, between the two of you—he was the very established artist— the sight of him like that makes you want to take him as your muse.

It feels like eons go by as you admire his beauty, but only a few moments pass before his gaze meets yours again.

“Do you want to keep going? Or should I get a bath started for you?”

#lookism x reader #lookism smut #dg x reader #dg smut #dg scenarios #junggunz.txt

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kmackatie · 1 year

Text

shadowgast fic rec list: the modern au edition - part one

This has been a long time coming, and hopefully the start of a few, but I have been intending to make some fic rec lists for a while. I am time-poor and generally bad at remembering to bookmark fics, but I figured I shouldn't let that stop me.

I have a love for modern au's, I write many of them, and I often see arguments against them when the source material is fantasy based for a number of reasons. But, I wanted to shine a light on some out there that tickle that box for me of being delightful.

Listed below the cut are a bunch of fics I have enjoyed, in no particular order and of varying lengths. I will of course forget some, but I hope to do some more lists in the future as I have more tabs open than I can reasonably fit in a list.

Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi)/@mllekurtz (1/1 chapters, 40,676 words, E, no warnings)

- A shadowgast college au with great characterisation and weaving of the Nein throughout. This one has chronic pain Essek, and I love how it is handled. As a note, Essek is briefly one of Caleb's professors, however, there is little power imbalance between them.

the fire kept closest (burns most of all) by mousecookie/@ariadne-mouse (3/3 chapters, 21,822 words, M, warnings: MCD)

- The fic that created the vocaleb tag. Essek is scientist on a research team studying a volcano, for which a tragic accident occurred years prior. It's told in a series of present and past, and the slow build of the relationships throughout the fic are gorgeous. For those eyeing the MCD warning, know that it is also tagged with 'angst with a happy ending'.

I've been lost before (and I'm lost again, I guess) by toneofjoy/@fireryn (21/21 chapters, 165,080 words, E, no warnings)

- The boys are rock climbers in this one. I know, it sounds odd, but trust me and read this. It has incredible characterisation and conversations about sexuality and gender (I hold the cafe scene in my hands so gently), as well as some wonderful sexual tension that builds until it bursts. This fic also got me into recreational rock climbing and I owe the author for it big time. As a note, Essek is Caleb's coach in this fic and this is a plot point for the background of their developing relationship.

starting with your heart (bright heart) by 2manyboys/@cluelessheroes (1/1 chapters, 9,914 words, E, no warnings)

- This has the sentence "Have you been taking four legged showers with Essek Thelyss?” in the summary and it has lived rent-free in my head ever since. Modern-wth-magic university au where they are both students with some lovely build-up of sexual tension between them. Hot smut to go along with it.

disputable presumptions by hanap/@callingvoicemail (3/? chapters, 9,606 words, E, no warnings)

- The corporate lawyer au of my dreams where they are friends with benefits and hiding it from the rest of the Nein. This has a delightful background of plot, along with ambiguous not!wizards hiding their true feelings behind an air of casualness, and snappy writing that keeps you reading.

Inside Edge, 3 Turn, and Closed Hold by MithrilWren/@mithrilwren (3/? works, 16,060 combined words, T/G/M respectively, no warnings)

- The shadowgast figure skating au I didn't know I needed until I read it. I've reread this one so many times and keep coming back to the characterisation and the way the story is slowly told across all three fics. There's a richness of the world behind what we see, and I adore coach!Beau in this one. Another with chronic pain Essek, and generally a careful understanding of the risks that go into the sport.

Labor of Love by OMGitsgreen (6/6 chapters, 43,331 words, M, warnings: CNTW)

- Bakery au. It's a classic, and it's done so well here. This is one of the earliest fics I remember reading, and it's a warm hug on a cold day that is great for when you're wanting something nice.

fermata by canyon_wizard/@canyon-wizard (8/8 chapters, 65,403 words, E, no warnings)

- A classical music au (there really needs to be more of these, please) where they are both piano students. The focus of this one is less the music world and more the character dynamics, and they are incredibly well done. The smut is hot, there is delightful miscommunication, and tense dynamics (ha) throughout.

(your face in my hands is) everything good I need by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi)/@mllekurtz (8/8 chapters, 25,884 words, M, no warnings)

- Professor au where they meet at a conference, Caleb a professor of modern history and Essek an expert in Latin. This fic has everything--wizards being nerds in every universe, first kisses, developing feelings, long distance relationship, emotional stakes, and dramatic declarations of love. I adore Mlle's writing (it really should not be a surprise at this point) as they have a way of capturing emotions and turning them into stunning pieces of prose. This one is also a love letter to Paris and Berlin, and please give it a read!

#shadowgast #critical role #critical role fanfic #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #the mighty nein #fic rec #fic rec list: modern au #my writing #I have definitely left of fics but I am intending to make a second list eventually #authors if you wish to be removed or untagged please let me know #cr: fanfic

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be-my-ally · 7 months

Text

Autumn Leaves Falling Down

(Like Pieces into Place)

I've inserted the sneak peak/1st part from last week into this to make it easier to locate and read, so if the first 1k reads as familiar that's why.

summary: it's autumn 1972, and Elvis' girl on the side, Laura (from All Revved Up), who is no longer the girl on the side -- has come to stay at Graceland. There's the Memphian, an attempt at a trip to the morgue, and Elvis in a sweater - oh, and smut.

wc: 7.6k

warnings: 18+, kissing, making out at the cinema, there's an argument with Red that results in a gun being drawn but doesn't go off, mentions of dead bodies, p in v sex. this could probably do with a ton of editing but i am fundamentally lazy.

the memphian scenes are totally inspired by @whositmcwhatsit’s The Gate Girl — I've avoided rereading the past couple of weeks to try and forget it but i’ve read it upwards of 55 times and i think i’ve absorbed it all into my brain as fact - and really, she does it much better than me so everyone (if you haven't) pls go and check it out.

October 19th 1972 Graceland.

It’s quiet as Laura pads down the stairs, suspicious of the silence in the house - hoping that Elvis hadn’t actually up and left her on her own. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, hoping to find him quickly and work out what she should wear today, and besides, it was early - knowing him they’d end up back in bed soon. But she hadn’t really anticipated having to go all the way downstairs before she could call to him. She wraps her arm around herself as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s been cold at Graceland, really she’s only been there a handful of times anyway - and last year in the colder months he’d had her over in Palm Springs. Sure, he kept his room at a frankly ridiculous temperature but under the warmth of his heavy comforter and arm she barely felt it. Now though it feels as though there’s a cool breeze running through the house. The late summer having certainly given way to autumn, bronzed leaves starting to fall off the trees.

Elvis is nowhere to be found as she peeks around doorways and arches, and she wonders if she should give up and just wait for him to show up in the bedroom - but she’s sure he’d have woken her up if he was leaving, so he must be around here somewhere. She’s grateful there’s carpet in the kitchen for her bare toes when she creeps around the corner, the breeze suddenly stronger. The mystery is quickly solved; the door to the hallway flapping from the exterior door being left open. Laura huffs as she slams them shut, but it does at least explain where they’ve all gone (and why it was so breezy in the house). She looks down at herself, considering if she was prepared to venture out, but it’s just this side of too cold, and besides she’s pretty sure Elvis would flip out at her parading outside in just her silk robe. She heads down to the den, intending on just getting a little glimpse before going to get changed.

She quickly spots some of the guys, as she peeks out of the glass, but they’re all just a little too far to the side for her to see everyone. She leans against the windowsill to help her stretch to peer as far as she can out, tiptoes rubbing into the plush green carpet. A football comes flying and Joe comes running past, red-faced and struggling to breathe in an attempt to catch it. She can’t help but giggle watching him as the collection of men come trotting around the corner to join him. Elvis at the end of the group, looking pleased with what had clearly been his throw. Laura leans as close as possible to the window, ducking her head under the little curtain, appreciating the look of him having fun. He’s practically bouncing around outside, dressed casually in a way she hasn’t really seen before - his velour zip-up looking particularly cosy. He’s a little thicker than he was in the height of the summer and in Laura’s opinion it looks good on him; she’s a fan of how he’s styling his hair at the moment too - the slightly longer shaggy length of it that seems to look like he’s either just combed it into a gentle swoop or like he’s been rolling around on it. Both looks make her tummy flip if she looks at them for too long. He’s foregone his tinted glasses, whether because it was overcast and therefore the light manageable to his eyes, or simply from fear of the football being thrown Laura didn’t know. She could, however, just from looking at the set of his shoulders tell that for once he seemed untroubled. As calm as he could ever be, his carefree attitude was evident even from a distance. He spots her at the window after a couple more passes, his face lighting up as he jogged over to the window.

Even though Laura was watching him she still startles when he taps the glass, through the decorative metal, grinning at her. She beams back - thrilled at his happy face.

“How’d’you sleep honey?” He shouts at her, muffled but still audible, she giggles in response - shaking her head at his antics. She’s pretty sure she’s somehow alone in the house, but she wasn’t about to start shouting through a window at him. He folds his arms, leaning back to look her up and down, frowning suddenly and insistently tapping the glass again in mock outrage.

“Get dressed!” Laura shakes her head again, teasing him and watches as he signals something to the boys who all jog off to one side. She’s too distracted by all the movement to notice Elvis himself disappearing, until the door slams open. She stumbles, caught in the drape when she attempts to whirl herself around - but before she can right herself there’s an arm suddenly wrapping around her middle, holding her tight and close. Despite the plush velour rubbing against her back, she can feel the chill on him; they must have been out there playing for a while already.

“Jesus Elvis! You’re freezing!” He shakes his head, laughing and shoving his cold nose into the crook of her neck, “Elvis!” She tries to dance and wriggle out of his hold, but he has a surprisingly tight grip onto her.

“Not my fault Lor! Y’gotta get dressed, honey, catch yer death runnin’ round like this!” He tugs her away from the window, bundling them towards the middle of the room.

“Didn’t need - didn’t need to before.” His hands brush up her sides and she squirms as he tickles her. “‘Fore someone kept shoving their nose places it didn’t be-” Laura yelps when his nose makes another appearance, now with accompanying snuffle-snorting noises. “-long!”

“Oh yes you do. Can’t have you like this -” Elvis holds her with one arm, the other hand trailing down to brush across her bare thigh, large hand parting her robe and pushing up her nightgown. Laura involuntarily clenches her thighs and immediately feels his huff of laughter as he feels it. His voice lowering as he leans closer to her ear, the gentle vibration sending goose-pimples across her skin. “Not like this.” He flicks at the hem, now high enough to send a gust of air across the crease of her upper thigh, just the threat of exposure enough to make her gasp.

He smooths the fabric back down, mock outrage back in his voice; “Anyone could see you!” As if he wasn’t the one exposing her. He prods his long fingers into her tummy, making her crunch in an attempt to squirm away from his tickling, giggling the whole time.

“No, no!” She shrieks, “No more! I give!” He stills his hands and between gulps of air she tells him, “I’ll get dressed! I give.”

“Y’better!” he growls against her ear, squeezing her tight to his torso for a long second before releasing her with a grunt. Self-satisfied smile on his face when he pulls her around to face him, her own rosy cheeks matching his. He flicks at the hem of her nightgown again, shaking his head at her.

“Go on then.” He turns her to the stairs, slapping her behind as she stumbles calling out to her as she heads up the stairs and back up to his bedroom “Hurry! Want you to be my little cheerleader out there!”

So, Laura hurries. She gets ready as quickly as possible; dabbing on a little makeup and brushing her hair. She’s casually dressed when she heads back down towards the back door - jeans and a ribbed rollneck, fully expecting to change again later in the day. She grabs one of Elvis’ coats out of the coat closet on the way, wrapping herself in the thick fabric and liking how it fell past her knees - she’d really not been prepared for this early fall chill, having brought with her light jackets and layers instead of anything with a focus on warmth. Elvis grins over at her, pretending to throw the ball at her when she finally exits the house, and she giggles back at him, standing to the side of their playing space,

“Gimme a E!” She shouts at him, and he roars with laughter, shaking his head as he loudly tells the boys;

“Oh, you’re in for it now! Got my little good luck charm out here, haven’t I? Where’s all your missus’ huh?” Jokingly shoving and jostling as they come in closer. The game continues - seemingly some sort of bastardised version of football wherein it was every man for himself, and Laura contented herself with watching from the sidelines, every now and again giving Elvis an encouraging cheer at what she hoped was a particularly decent run or pass. It was growing a little boring watching by herself and she wondered where all the other wives and girlfriends were, if they’d had other plans or turned down an invitation to watch - or, as she hoped (despite her boredom) if she’d been specially invited out to the boys-only impromptu game. But Elvis looked happy, practically beaming at her every time he ran close by and so she was more than happy to burrow into the lapels and collar of the large overcoat, enveloping herself in his scent while she watched on. It’s only about ten minutes later that he runs past and pauses, hands outstretched,

“Aw, Lor, baby, I’m all chilled to my booones, you gotta warm me up ‘fore I freeze!” He tries to shove his cold hands up her sweater and she shrieks, dashing away from him -

“Oh no you don’t!” He pouts, arms crossed, and she shakes her head, “Not gonna work this time mister, you’ve got icicles for hands, and you can keep them to yourself!” Elvis huff in a faux put upon manner, and calls the boys in;

“C’mon guys, I’m gettin’ bored of kickin’ all your asses… and ‘m hungry - let’s go have somethin’ to eat and warm up a bit.” Laura goes where he nods towards the house, slowing to let him catch up with her and letting him curl his cold hands onto her warm stomach from behind as they walked in together.

Hours later, after the afternoon light had turned to darkness and they’d spent the day fooling around in the house - if she didn’t know better she’d be wondering where all their energy was still coming from - Elvis was again calling for her to get dressed so they could leave for the Memphian.

“Maybe you wanna get changed sweetheart? You know, into, uh, just something, you know, honey, just, just a bit more, uh, flattering…” He’d followed her up the stairs, and she found it hard to be annoyed at his disparaging comment towards her jeans when he’d playfully chased her into the bedroom. Laura shrieked and danced out of his hands, screeching when he got close enough to dig his fingers into the sensitive flesh just above her knee. She careened through the door and they both fell together once he tackled her when she was close enough to the bed.

They ended up rolling around on the bed for a moment, both laughing. She allows him to pepper her face with kisses, rolling on top of him to return the favour. He clings to her, unwilling to let her wiggle off of him even when she tries to lean back fearing she was squishing him. “Elvis, you’ve got to let me get offa you; I bet you can hardly breathe under me!” He rolls his eyes, flexing his forearms as he squeezed her even tighter to him,

“Can’t breathe! I’ll show you can’t breathe.” She can practically feel her ribs cracking and she yelps,

“Elvis!” Elvis laughs, releasing her, making Laura relax on top of him, sinking against his body. She leans back to observe his face, running a gentle hand over his cheek, stroking the side of his intense eyes and trailing it down to trace his plush lips. He playfully nips at her finger, growling and she blushes at how the noise immediately sent her tummy into somersaults. She feels herself tingle at the sensation of his breath on her now damp finger, and her eyes slip closed for a long second. When they reopen he’s staring at her, mouth slightly open, eyes lidded and she no longer cares about being on top of him, his hands sliding down her sides to hold her as she bucks her hips, manoeuvring her to slip her legs on either side of one of his. She grinds down, tangling her fingertips into his sideburns as she captures his mouth again. It’s delicate for one short moment before they both seem to sense an urgency in the situation and she suddenly feels like she’s a willing victim being devoured, his tongue and teeth everywhere all at once. She pulls back to catch her breath, and he chases her lips even then, kissing the side of her mouth until she recaptures his. He ruts up against her once, twice, before stilling and rolling her to the side - Laura lays there panting,

“El, what’s? what’s wrong?” She pauses, she doesn’t want to embarrass him but she can’t help but ask, “Did you - did you, uh, finish?” Elvis smiles a little bashfully, eyes crinkling at the sides as he shakes his head,

“No, no, honey, no just, just gonna save myself - be better later if we just wait; I’ve got plans for you this evening, jus - just lemme hold off for the mo.’” She nods, it makes sense, even if she impatiently wanted him now - and she whispers as much against his jaw.

“Want you all the time, want you in the morning, in the evening in the - god, Elvis, I just - I want to be here all the time, want you right now.” He rolls them so he’s leaning over her, caging her in with his arms and wrapping one of his legs between hers.

“You got me darling, you got me - we just, I want to make it special, tonight - just, just cool it baby yeah? Gotta,” He leans forward into her to kiss her, pressing his mouth hard against hers, tongue licking into her long and slow, before pulling back, breathing heavily again. Elvis reluctantly stood up. “Gotta get ready now. Get ourselves looking uh, presentable.” He cracks his back, stretching his arms and Laura feels abruptly cold at the loss of his warm body heat, panting as her heartbeat slows and the throbbing between her legs cools to a faintly warm glow.

—------------

Laura stares at her hair in the mirror, pinning half of it up, brushing through the rest gently, trying not to lose too much of the volume from the day. Her mousy roots are showing from where she dyes it near-black and she absentmindedly makes a mental note to ask if Elvis knows where she can get some dye, or if there’s time for her to go to the hairdressers. He’d already left for downstairs, having gotten changed unusually faster than she had and left the bedroom long before she was done in the bathroom, telling her,

“Take your time, baby, ain’t going nowhere without you.” She’d blushed at her own reflection at her reaction to his words - it had clearly been a throwaway sentence for him, not something she should take to heart and yet she couldn’t resist it. It was too much, too soon, too close to everything she wanted that she could practically feel it fluttering around her head, feeling herself locking it away tight in her chest. It had been on the edge of every interaction with him the past couple of years, the knowing that she was kept around for a reason, and that she kept coming back for a reason. She’d never been much of a fan of the men in Vegas; they were all too lecherous and desperate – even those that weren’t there to partake in all the sins and pleasures. The few dates she’d been on with guys she’d met while working out there had ended fast, and often slightly uncomfortably. Elvis wasn’t like that though. She’d thought he might be, expected he would be - had rolled her eyes at herself when her stomach flipped at his fingers calling her over. Had lain in bed telling herself it was just her stupid crush from years ago rearing its ugly head, making her see things that weren’t there. She wouldn’t ever even see him again, and don’t be stupid Laura, he probably wasn’t all that nice anyway. Besides, he has a wife and she knew enough not to get involved.

But somehow, her feelings and heart ruled over her sense and before she knew it her life revolved around him in a not unwanted way. She’d not had to worry as much about the men in Vegas then, they could behave how they wished — her dating life that had previously been slim was pared down even more, too anxious that she might be out when Elvis would choose to call and she’d miss him or have to explain where she was. It meant dates were few and far between, but as much as she thought herself a terrible idiot - she couldn’t bear to let anything get far enough that she might have to turn Elvis down.

She shakes her head at the reminiscence, it's been years since that first encounter during one of his early residencies. She’s getting too emotional about it now she’s allowed to be here, tangled in the domesticity of Graceland life, allowed to be photographed, and publicised. She just needs to stay in the moment, worry about how her feelings are getting involved when she gets home - she’s only here for a month, she should just make the most of it. She finishes getting ready quicker with that in mind, rushing through her make-up, a voice in her head telling her not to stupidly waste time. Before long she had her mini dress on and shoes quickly buckled before she headed down the stairs.

Laura had seen photos of Elvis when he was younger, knew that he wasn’t opposed to knits, it just wasn’t something she’d yet had the good fortune of witnessing. But there he was, sat on the couch in the music room, waiting for her and everyone else to be ready. Open V neck knitted sweater with a little collar. She stilled in the hallway, reluctant to break his silence. He’s just sat there with his thighs spread and his legs stretched out, arms across the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and head tipped back. She must make a noise, or something, because he suddenly jolts his head up to look over at her. They make eye-contact and she freezes even more still, trapped in his intense gaze. He looks well, like she wanted to climb into him and never crawl out, cuddly and soft and yet thick and masculine. Laura swallowed, her hands shaking a little, as he pats his thigh. How ridiculous that something as little as that could make someone so nervous - she’s just about to take a step towards him, ready to curl into the plush fuzzy softness of his sweater and tangle her fingers in the similarly plush fuzzy softness of his chest hair when there’s a sudden ruckus from seemingly all sides as all the other men and woman, ready for a night out, suddenly appear. Laura mourns the loss of her cuddle, but Elvis’ hand in hers as he effectively shows her off on their way out makes up for it a little.

The step out into the late evening air was even chillier than the day, Laura shivered in her thin jacket - it was downright unseasonable for Tennessee in October to be this cold and she wishes for the second time that day that she’d thought to bring a heavier coat, but then the heavy thump of Elvis’ arm comes down around her shoulder, enveloping her in him. She finds she doesn’t mind the cold so much then, able to enjoy the scent of the wet, crisp fall air and how it just feels different to the summer within the warmth of his grasp.

They’d filtered into the Memphian and Elvis immediately grasped her wrist, pulling Laura with him. He ignored the hustle of the others to head straight up the stairs to the balcony, she goes where he leads - he’d taken her to the Crosstown the last time she’d been in Memphis, so she didn’t really have much choice; not knowing where he was going beyond the ‘balcony’ sign on the door. The door slams behind her, and she jumps at its loud echo in the empty movie theatre.

“I didn’t wanna ‘embarrass you ‘round the guys, I just, uh, want you all to myself.” He pauses while he shuffles down the aisle, “Figured this way,” He settled himself into a chair one row back, in the very centre, “this way you can - “

Elvis suddenly realises she hasn’t followed him down the aisle and laughs, “C’mon, darling, what’chyu standing out there for?” Laura hurries down to him, and he clasps her hand as she gets herself comfortable in the seat next to his, bringing it to his lips. She blushes at the feeling - it was so startlingly romantic that she can’t think of what to say, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He settles back into his chair, dropping her hand to stretch his arm across the back of her chair. A couple of the others come thundering up the stairs, laughing and joking, but they go silent when coming through the doors, taking seats right along the back wall - Laura’s head turns to see who it was but Elvis’ hand from her chair blocks its path, two fingers pressed against her cheek as he cups her face - keeping her looking directly at him.

“Don’ worry about them - they won’t bother us none.” She nods, unable to stop herself leaning her head further into his hand — he smiles softly - cheeks crinkling into his eyes. His hand falls to stroke at her shoulder,

“There we are. Now, what was I saying?” He pauses, “Oh, yeah, if - this way if y’get scared I can cuddle ya.” He pauses, “You’re alright with a…. uh…. slasher flick aren’t ya?” He prods her far shoulder.

She nodded enthusiastically, although her head was ringing alarm bells - she wasn’t normally a huge fan of any kind of horror. She lived alone - life was scary enough without worrying about x hiding behind her doors at night.

But any reservations Laura had were quickly lost when after the title card came across the screen accompanied by some ominous instrumentals Elvis’ hand came creeping across to her thigh,

“You scared?” She shakes her head.

“Course not.” He nods, although his smirk suggests he’s unconvinced,

“Good, but just so you know - ‘m packing…. I could protect you from anything. ‘Specially a man.” He’s looking at her almost too seriously, and she feels trapped under his intense gaze, all she can do is nod.

“Of course - I know, I know you would.” He stares a second longer, before leaning back into his chair, and he indicates with his head the unoccupied seat next to him.

“Besides, if you’re just scared, I got my big ol’ flashlight with me too.” She nods again, not quite knowing what to say in reply - she can tell he’s waiting for her to speak though so all that spills out of her mouth is,

“That’s-that’s the police one, right?”

“Mmhmm… got it direct offa the sheriff.” She turns to say something else, but the opening scene starts to play and he shushes her, pulling his hand off her thigh, enrapt in the movie.

Clearly, it fails in holding his attention for very long. Mere minutes later he leans over, sighing, not bothering to try and keep quiet. She squeaks in surprise as his hands grip hold of her arms - tugging her, she scrabbles over the arm of the chair to go where he’s pulling her — arranging her to be sat on his lap. She looks around, suddenly coming to the realisation that at some point he must have shooed away everyone else from the balcony. He tuts, a finger going to her mouth in a keep quiet gesture when she opens it to speak, pointing at the screen as if telling her to keep watching. Laura does, but she’s lost track of whatever was going on and can’t find it in herself to care when she feels one of his hands curl around to creep gently up her uncovered thigh, the other gripping tight on her side, just below her breast. He teases her like that for a few minutes, although Laura’s lost all sense of time, too focussed on the tickle of his fingers and breath on her neck. She can’t take it anymore, turning to throw an arm around his neck, shifting on his lap to draw him into a kiss. Elvis pulls her tighter, fingers tensing, and she moans into him.

He tugs Laura’s leg a little, pulling her to be straddling his lap. She’s embarrassed almost, or would be if there were anyone around, to be sat on his knee like this, rocking against him and necking him like a goddamn teenager. She’s not done this since college, and he feels so different. He’s got solid thighs and sure hands, manoeuvring her and masterfully keeping his lips on hers - just the right amount of pressure, of tongue, and nibbling bites.

Elvis’ fingers slide up her skirt, toying with the fabric of her slip while his other comes around to palm at her like a teenager himself, hand roving over her breast. She gasps into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw as she grinds against him. He seems to gain confidence at her reaction, moving to push the wide strap of her dress off her shoulder, tugging it low enough to reach the soft cotton of her bra. His fiddles with her nipples, pinching one just the tiniest bit between his fingers and Laura’s eyes roll back in pleasure. He bumps her panties with the other, but goes no further, moving to grip her back in an attempt to keep her balance on his legs.

She pants, uncaring now if she’s louder than the actors, gasping as he pulls away. She’s never been gladder he’s wearing a v-neck when she rocks against his thigh, leaning forward to suck a bruise against his collarbone. His hips dislodge her accidentally when the pressure gets too much and he bucks up, jerking her away. Laura’s fingers tangle into the fabric on his shoulders, her nails making little divots in the knit; he was going to have to have someone steam this sweater to get it straight again. He’s breathing rapidly against her cheek, hot breath tickling her nose,

“‘s no good baby, I got - I got plans for you tonight.” Laura grinds against him, unabashed at her wanton display.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah baby, wanna,” His thumb rubs a circle on her hip as he slows his own jerking pelvis. “Wanna show you something. Something a lil’ spooky” Laura grins back at him, hand slipping down between them -

“Oh yeah, you got something you want to show me?” She attempts a particularly awful Transylvanian accent, “Something spooky you wanna show me?” She brushes her hand over the not insignificant bulge of his trousers, the outline of his cock clearly displaying he’d forgone underwear. He moans, eyes closing for a moment before he shakes his head, clasping her wrist and tugging her hand away.

“No, no baby, honey, I got, ah, lord, got something serious I wanna show you.” Laura pauses from her playful wriggling, curious.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh Lor, but, uh, let it be a surprise.” He pulls up her strap, patting her shoulder.

“A surprise?” She’s unsure now that he’s not joking about sex.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He’s looking at her so earnestly, lip caught in his teeth that she couldn’t dream of refusing him.

“Of course!” He pushes her off his lap, brushing himself off and straightening her collar when he joins her in standing up,

“Well then darlin’ let’s go.” He holds out a hand and seems to take a mischievous glee in practically running away; leaving the boys downstairs none the wiser to their disappearance. He opens the car door for her with an exaggerated wave and bow before trotting around the front to climb in himself.

They pull up to the nearby funeral home and Elvis starts to climb out of the car but Laura stays frozen where she’s sat, more uncertain than ever. “El I’m not sure about this,” He cuts her off,

“Nah baby, trust…you said you trusted me.” He leans down to peer through the door at her, “Don’t go lying to me now, doll, Cilla liked it - she told me herself it was uh, enlightening!” He’s tripping over his words in his haste to convince her. He’d mentioned his trips to the morgue before - endlessly fascinated with the spiritual and scientific notion of the still bodies. But Laura’s conflicted - she can’t help but feel it’s fundamentally disrespectful to stand there gawking at some poor person’s body but, on the other hand, the reverent way he spoke about the trips and his persistent aura of peace means that she can’t help but feel that it’s ok. As long as she’s with him. She nods, climbing out to follow him. He once again takes her hand, and the unease builds again the closer they get to the door - she was concerned before with the morality of going in there but now it’s her squeamish nature that’s starting to make her tummy hurt.

“C’mon hon, it’ll be good for you.”

“If you say so -“ She mutters back. He raps on the door that was now in front of them. There are no lights on, and she shakes her head,

“Elvis - I don’t think there’s anyone in there, they’re closed.” He tilts his head, frowning, as if confused that a door might remain shut to him before insistently knocking again.

“I got, got special permission, Laura, they - they can’t just lock us out. Hello?” He bangs on the window to the side of the door, he huffs, turning away when there’s a sudden loud crash from inside. Both him and Laura jump at the noise, both whirling back - Elvis jogs down the path, standing back to be able to see all the windows but still no light turns on to indicate anyone inside. He marches back up to the door, raising his arm to pound on it again but Laura catches his forearm, tugging it back to her;

“C’mon El - we’ll come back another night. I’m - I’m scared now, and maybe if they know we’re coming they’ll have the lights on…” He looks down at her, gaze softening at the way she’s quivering a tiny bit - a combination of the anticipatory fear, her jumpiness, and the cold.

“Goddamnit.” He swears, “Well, guess we’ll have to come back another night.” He makes it sound like his idea and accompanies it with a shake of his head. Laura had fully expected him to be more annoyed - and he is, somewhat, ranting the whole way back to Graceland; but thankfully less at the funeral home and his inability to sneak in and more at the movie they’d left. Blaming it for his rash idea to come here with no planning involved.

Most of the cars were already back and parked along the driveway when they got there; either the movie had finished and they’d all left before they started another, or more likely - they’d noticed Elvis’ disappearance and abandoned the movie all together. Red shook his head at Elvis as they walked in,

“Man - don’t you go looking at me like that.” Red baulks at the suggestion,

“I wasn’t Boss, wasn’t looking at you like anything, swear it -” Laura tactfully takes a step back, removing her jacket and taking Elvis’ coat in an attempt to remove herself from the conversation. She goes to the kitchen in the hope of finding someone to hand them off to, before taking a second to collect herself to be, hopefully, a calming influence on the raised voices she could now hear. She slinks back into the hallway,

“I can go where I goddamn like - you sayin’ I can’t protect myself?” Elvis’ waving his pistol in the air like he’s in a western, and Laura bites her lip to stop from giggling. Red’s backtracking now, his hands up as if warding Elvis off,

“Of course, I wasn’t - I wasn’t suggesting that I’m jus’ - just sayin’ you disappeared is all and what with the threats -”

“You hear about anybody threatenin’ me at home?” Elvis roars back, his finger inching ever so slightly to the trigger; Laura panics desperate for them to not get into this now - God forbid there had been a threat made, they’d all be up for hours while they reassessed the security. Red shakes his head,

“Well, no - but people move about, EP, they don’t just stay in one-” Laura takes her chance and steps in, lightly touching Elvis’ arm,

“Baby, I’m tired.” Elvis does a double take at her, completely ignoring Red still talking. “Can we go to bed please?” She blinks owlishly at him to convince him to leave it be, and Elvis seemed to relax, his tense shoulders coming down as he lowers his arm with the gun in hand. There’s a long pause,

“Sure, sure, doll, sure.” He gestures for her to go ahead, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, “Get him the fuck out of my house, I’ll talk to y’all tomorrow.” Elvis ignores Red’s reply, climbing the stairs himself. He shushes Laura when they reach his bedroom, fiddling with the security camera feed until he watches Red leave. He sighs, heavily, and shakes his whole body out, “Awh, baby, I didn’t - didn’t need to get all worked up like that, just - those assholes just don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I can’t be all, all, all cooped up like this all the time.” He whines, gesturing expressively as he talks.

“It’s ok.” She shrugs, running her manicured hands gently up his arm, “They can be pretty overbearing huh?” She presses her chin into the crook of his shoulder as he sighs, kneading his biceps. He sighs back at her,

“I know he’s just doin’ his job, but…” He trails off, taking another deep breath, “Anyway, enough of that now. I want to get back to the night - all m’plans were ruined tonight - you deserve well, you deserve the perfect night.” He turns in her arms, and Laura frowns up at him,

“Why don’t you let me worry about that. I’m fine, I’ve had a great night; such a shame about not being let into the morgue…. How about you let me take care of you?” He shakes his head,

“Naw, naw darlin’ I want to -” He cups her face in his hands, the size of his palms dwarfing her cheeks, “want to show you how much I like having you here.” Elvis tips her head up, bending over a little to reach her lips even as she’s stood on her tiptoes.

She’s enrapt in the moment, not really even conscious of his hands fiddling with her zipper on her back until she suddenly feels his fingertips on her bare skin, chasing the zip all the way down until it's falling off her on its own. His hand comes up to clasp her face to his when she moves as if to pull away, using his free hand to shove her dress to pool at her feet. He pulls back with a tug on her bottom lip, and Laura surges forward to hurriedly tug at his sweater - he takes the hint, pulling it over his head and Laura turns her attention to his trousers. He rushes to unhook her bra, even as he stumbles out of his pants, and it's only a few seconds later before her panties join her dress on the floor.

“C’mon now, honey, s’ok, just - just wanna love on you some,” He pulls on her wrist again, smiling almost shyly down at her naked form. Gently lowering her on top of the covers, he kisses her neck, gentle presses of his lips - every few seconds sucking down with a little more pressure in one spot, before moving to the next. He moves down Laura’s chest, one hand on her waist keeping her still, the other joining his mouth. He kisses across her breasts — capturing her nipple in his mouth, he wets it with his saliva, pulling back to blow his breath across it, Laura’s skin pebbling in response as she quivers. Her hands come up to tangle in his hair, and Elvis stills when she tugs just a little too hard - the sting sparkling down his spine. He pants against her, eyes closed as he rests his head on her chest, trying to regain any semblance of self-control so he could continue, his hands splayed across her stomach. The heat that had been building in Laura’s body all day is back with a vengeance, and already she can feel her heartbeat throbbing between her legs.

He presses little kisses down the soft folds of her stomach, and he grunts as he repositions himself up onto his knees. Laura takes a moment to drink in the sight of him - the way his hair is fluffed out from where her hands were just in it, the dark shadow that hints at stubble around his chin catching her attention, and below that a flush that matches hers colours his chest. She’s almost embarrassed at the little moan that slips out of her mouth as she follows, with her eyes, the thick patch of chest hair past his necklaces, and down, down his soft tummy before she rests them onto Little Elvis. Who’s already popped up to say hello, rosy and chubby. He takes her moment of stillness as his cue to go on and shifts one hand to tweak her nipple, the other going down to gently trail across her thigh. Laura gasps, urging him on. He dances his fingers across, hovering them over her until she’s about to beg. The moment his rough fingertip finally touches her she jolts, legs falling open even as her thighs clench.

“Oh Lord, you’re, you’re, Christ Lor, you’re ready for me already.” He strokes his finger up her wetness, adding a second to the mix to expertly spread her sticky folds. Laura tries to respond but all she can manage is a frantic nod as she struggles to find her words while Elvis busies himself with teasing her in little circles, dipping his finger in just the teeniest bit to gather more wetness and bring it back to circle almost directly on her clit. He’s got the same burning focus he does on stage, eyes blazing and his mouth open a little in concentration, pouty lips looking even more appealing in their bitten state. Laura’s eyes fall closed and she feels Elvis’ hand come back to her stomach, pinning her in place while his other plays with her, stilling her jerking hips a little. Laura doesn’t know what to do with her hands, but the problem quickly resolves itself when Elvis leans back to rub his wet hand over himself, before lining himself up and sinking into her hot, soaking, heat. Laura’s hands fall to grip at his shoulders, uncaring of her nails sinking into his delicate flesh.

“El-Oh, god, bit, bit of warning - next time, would be, ah, would be ni-ice.” She was ready but it didn’t stop her from feeling the stretch of him pushing into her. He pauses,

“You want, you want me to, fuck, come out?” He looks pained as he says it, and Laura grins,

“Christ no! Just, give me a-,” She wiggles a little, “No, no. It’s fine.”

“Yeah? You sure, honey? I don’t wanna - meant to be about you baby,” He says this, even as he can’t help but nudge further into her, his eyes begging her to say he can stay.

“Elvis. God, you can move.” He’s slow at first, barely rocking his famous hips, eyebrow quirking as he teases her.

“Yeah, baby? That - that what you wanted?” She groans, red-faced and sweaty,

“Elvis. Please.” It’s the magic word for a reason and he smiles before he concentrates again, his own eyes rolling back a little at the pleasure of it all as he builds up speed, rapidly fucking into her.

Laura rocks her hips into the air, legs shaking as Elvis brings his thumb down to rub directly over her clit, and their tight connection keeps her in precisely the right position even as her legs seem to flail. Her orgasm hits suddenly, and she falls off the precipice with a yell, mouth open and eyes wide as she catches sight of them both in the mirror, Elvis’ sweaty self-satisfied grin as he slows his fingers.

She shivers with the aftershocks, suddenly realising there were tears streaming down her face.

“Oh - Lord, what’s, ugh, what’s wrong baby, am I - am I hurting you?” He slows himself until he’s almost completely still, although, not totally. His voice strains with the effort of not moving, high-pitched, and Laura just shakes her head, “No - honey, I gotta know, you want me, you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” Laura sniffles, “‘s just, just a bit much - please Elvis, I want more.”

“Bit much?” Elvis takes her at her word and thrusts into her again,

“Just can’t get over you wanting me - ‘s just,” she moans, “just over, oh, overwhelming.”

“Baby, you feel what you do to me? What you done to me all day?” He pushes the hair from her face, staring down at her. She gazes back at him, glossy-eyed. “Awh, now baby, don’t look like that - you’re so pretty - Jesus, Lord, even,” He thrusts again, starting to fuck into her at a solid pace, “Even, fuck, even crying baby - makes your eyes all big, and your cheeks all rosy … god you look so fucking pretty.” He drags her even closer to him, his hands tight on her hips and waist, finger bruises being left - she babbles at him that he looks good too, pretty, and handsome and sexy. He doesn’t last much longer, maybe another thirty seconds before he’s shouting,

“Oh fuck, baby,” and his hips still, mouth falling open and his eyes rolling back as he groans. He collapses half on her, half on the bed and despite the almost overwhelming heat of him Laura welcomes the sensation of his heavy presence over her and the way he rubs his face on her shoulder. It should disgust her, the fact that he’s essentially covering her in his musk and sweat, but instead she finds it endearing, her pulse jumping in reaction to it. She kisses the top of his head and he responds by gently pulling out of her, rolling to one side. She tries to find it in herself to be brave, the afterglow making her bolder than she would normally be, but still not quite enough on her own.

“Can feel them cogs whirrin’ from here - did I not give you ‘nough attention?” He rolls over to face her. Laura shakes her head, taking a deep breath - it’s hard to have this conversation when she can literally feel his cum still sliding out of her, and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he refuses.

“Elvis, can I - I want to stay here. Can I stay?” He pauses,

“For Christmas?” Laura frowns, starting to shiver at the cooling sweat and her stress at the discussion. Elvis tuts, rubbing her arm,

“Well, maybe? I mean I’d love to - if you’ll have me. But I mean, maybe that could - I’d really like to stay with you.” He hums, as if finally understanding what she’s getting at, there’s a long enough pause that Laura opens her mouth to say she didn’t mean it, explain that she was caught up in the emotions of the evening and she didn’t want to - honest, but Elvis beats her to it.

“Well, hon-ey,” He’s talking slower than normal, his southern drawl even more pronounced, “I don’t, I don’t see why not - I sure like having you around.” Laura turns to face him, finally,

“You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say if I didn’t.” He says it sarcastically but he’s smiling softly at her and Laura grins,

“Oh! Thank you,” He strokes a circle against her arm, and she continues the only thing she can think in her mind that’s not just Elvis Presley agreed I could live with him is the next thing that comes falling out of her mouth, “I’m gonna need a thicker coat.” Elvis laughs,

“Baby, you wait ‘til Christmas - I’ll get you the warmest coat you’ve ever seen.” She smiles back laughing a little with relief, “Now, let’s get you warmed up again.” He rolls himself back over her and she giggles as he digs his fingers into her sides and his lips find hers once again.

—————

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