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milfgyuu · 1 month

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Lowlifes [M] Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!Reader Tags: 11.5k, f2l, smut, fluff, humor, foundfamily, gang?au, 18+ Summary: Seungcheol grows tired of watching you fool around with a string of loser boyfriends and steps in when an ex shows up somewhere he's not welcome which unravels years of feelings lost in translation. Warnings: SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI!! mxf unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, lots of making out both in public and private, lots of touching, holding, soft manhandling, language, physical violence, mentions of injuries, broken bones, etc. not super detailed but very much implied they are in an illegal crime crew/gang/ring whatever. people are drinking in the bar and getting lit bc it's big dawg dk's bday ok. i think that covers it.

Seungcheol knows he should mind his business and he’s well aware that you can handle your own problems because you take great pleasure in reminding him of your capabilities.

That doesn’t mean he’s not watching out of the corner of his eye as you’re pacing back and forth at the far end of the bar. Your phone is glued to your ear and you’re obviously upset, throwing your free hand in the air with a string of expletives falling from your lips so clearly that he doesn’t have to hear you to make them out. It’s obvious who’s on the other end of that call and just knowing you’re still speaking to your ex irks his nerves.

He drinks down the remainder of his beer as he continues monitoring from a distance, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip with thinly veiled irritation.

When you hang up the phone, mid-sentence, it takes everything in you not to turn and drive your fist through the wall. All the pretty promises and apologies…you knew they were empty. You knew he would disappoint you yet again. You’re more angry with yourself for being stupid enough to hope he’d come through for once but instead of being here with you and your friends, trying to work shit out, he’s running with his new crew.

Things were always tumultuous with Jae and never going to work out, which you knew very early on, but you just loathe being wrong when you give someone a chance. It was a fool’s hope to think he might turn it around and make you feel better about letting him into your life to begin with.

The truth of the matter was that Jae just wanted to be a part of your crew and when they refused to let him in, he went and found another and tried to drag you along with him. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you’d leave them, your family, but you tried to make things work and it bit you in the ass more times than you could count.

You’re pissed as all hell when you slip back into the booth, right into Seungcheol’s side. He’s warm and familiar, and when his arm falls around your shoulder it tempers your rage just a touch. Another thing Jae couldn’t stand…how close the two of you were.

Seungcheol has been by your side since you and your brother were kids. You three have been thick as thieves, literally, for so long that you were more comfortable with him than anyone else in the world. You loved, trusted, and respected Seungcheol to a fault.

He also notoriously let’s you get away with pretty much everything.

So, for no reason other than needing a distraction and hoping to get a rise out of him, you take the cold fresh beer he’s yet to touch right out of his hands and bring it to your lips. He makes an amused sound and pinches your shoulder where his hand rests.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t do anything to stop you from taking whatever you want.

You swallow another small mouthful and set the beer down, pushing it back into his grip. The little gasp of surprise you let out when his big hand catches around yours before you can let go of the glass makes Cheol grin which is an improvement from the scowl he’s been sporting for most of the night.

“You gonna tell me why you’ve been so grumpy?” you ask, leaning into him so he can actually hear you over all the noise, “You only nurse a beer when you’re in a shit mood.”

He lets you pull your hand from the cold glass but doesn’t put any distance between your bodies, he lessens it instead. You’re so close that he doesn’t even need to speak loudly for you to hear him. “I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to me.” His deep rumbling voice can be felt this closely and the alcohol in the warmth of your belly feels fizzy.

“I’ve known you longer than anyone else here,” you reason, “You can’t hide anything from me.”

Seungcheol snickers, “Oh, I bet I could.”

You don’t get the chance to try and one up him because your phone buzzes incessantly in your lap. Pulling back, you both see who is calling and Seungcheol kisses his teeth in irritation. You silence the call, sending your ex to voicemail and you’re about to reach for your own drink but another incoming call prevents you.

“You want me to answer it?”

Seungcheol’s tone is dangerous so you silence the call again and continue reaching for your glass. “He’ll give up.”

That isn’t typically the case but you're praying this once it is because you really don’t feel like dealing with Jae’s bullshit any more than you wish to handle a pissed off Seungcheol or get a lecture from your brother. Jeonghan, over-bearing and unhinged as he is, will talk you to death when you make a poor choice as if his entire lifestyle isn’t comprised of the ones he’s made. Better to keep him out of it too.

Cheol will give you a piece of his mind but he’s more like your big, scary guard dog and even though you’re never on the receiving end, you know he’s got a nasty bite so you’d prefer to keep the leash short and not dangle bait before him. The last thing you need is Seungcheol winding up in a cell because of you…he toes that line enough as it is.

Unfortunately, nothing is going your way tonight and your phone lights up again. Normally you’d leave it alone but another part of you, one far and detached from who is calling, still fears the guilt of missing back-to-back calls heavens forbid something has happened.

It’s the only reason you’re answering, shouting over the noise, “You’d better be dying. What the hell do you want?”

“Baby, I just need to talk to you and you’re ignoring me,” he whines back and bile gathers at the base of your throat, “I already said I was sorry! Your friends don’t even like me so I don’t know why you asked me to come. They don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

“You’re not good enough for me,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, beyond caring about his feelings at this point, “You’ve proved that time and time again and I don’t need them to tell me what I already know. I’m busy. Don’t call me again.”

“Wait, wait!” he calls out to you desperately - it makes your skin crawl, “I’ll come pick you up, sweetheart. I’ll take you somewhere real nice, just us two, ok? You just stay there and I’ll come get you.”

Your face bunches up incredulously, “Don’t bother showing up now! The olive branch I extended by inviting you tonight no longer exists. I don’t want you here and I’m definitely not going anywhere just the two of us. I’m with my crew and you’re with yours,” you argue back, “That’s what you chose, so that’s what you get.”

There is silence on the end of the line and then laughter.

“You’re lucky you’re hot because it’s a distraction from how fucking crazy you are! I swear to god, you’re just trying to piss me off so I’ll pay more attention to you! Is that what you want? Want me to drop everything to be with you? Like you don’t get enough fucking attentio-”

“Hang up,” comes a growl from your left and when you look over, Seungcheol is seething.

You don’t waste another breath except to say, “Don’t call me again,” before disconnecting..

As you tuck your phone back between your thighs you accidentally meet Jeonghan’s gaze from across the table. His eyes flick between you just having ended another call and Seungcheol who looks like he might shatter the glass in his hand at any given moment. He raises a brow, his silent way of asking if everything is okay and you wink back like it’s totally fine. No worries. Not a thing wrong or out of place.

Which, it probably would have been if your phone hadn’t vibrated again a minute later.

It’s just the one time so you thought it was a fluke, a misdial, but then it buzzes again….and again. Then it’s a continually buzzing stream of new alerts so you pull your phone out and find sixteen unread messages. You don’t even bother reading them and shove the phone back between your thighs. Just. Shut. Up.

Minutes pass and you’re trying really hard to enjoy Chan’s little impromptu performance at the bar, and it sounds lovely, truly, but it’s difficult to focus on anything at all between your efforts to internally process your ex’s fucking audacity and to ignore furious heat rolling off Seungcheol’s body still so close to your own..

He’s wholly enraged and you can feel it.

There is maybe a solid seven minutes where your phone sits silently and you’re about to turn to speak to Jihoon and then…another text comes through. Seungcheol’s patience finally wears through and he plucks it from between your thighs before you can react. You watch quietly, not bothering to argue with him as he forces a shut down before pocketing it inside his jacket.

You still stare at him like some admonished teenager and he stares back with a small smirk, daring you to say something. He’s not doing it to punish you - that’s the reason you don’t push back - he’s going to make sure you enjoy the night just like everyone else. He knows it’s not going to happen if you’re glued to your phone and so do you.

Narrowing your eyes, you smirk back. “You’re giving that back later, right?”

His answering grin is troubling. “I might make you earn it.”

You toy with the idea of asking how but that line of thought is mercifully interrupted by a round of shots for the whole table being delivered and passed around. You had to wait the additional four minutes of having to sit through Hoshi giving an impromptu speech that almost dissolves to tears because he’s probably (definitely) two shots too deep and then it’s back to chaos and you’re finally free to be a part of it.

Your mood lifts tremendously over the next hour so being present in the moment with the people you love. Hao’s girlfriend Jessie passes you a sticker sheet with little glittery hearts and stars which end up all over the bar, in joshua’s hair, the tip of Jun’s nose, the bathroom walls, and some litter the dance floor. Woozi steals a couple for the back of his phone case and when you run out she supplies you with temporary tattoos. Almost everyone has at least two imprinted on their skin by the time those are run through.

When your hands are empty and your drinks all run dry, an old country western song crackles over the speakers and suddenly you’re being dragged out onto the floor by Mingyu who is hell bent on trying to replicate some old line dance you’re sure he’s fabricated in his foggy mind. Something about heels and toes, and being swung around your partner - it’s fun and somewhat terrifying when he’s nearly lifting you off the ground mid-spin.

It’s not his fault that he’s got long legs and two left feet when he drinks so it’s mostly the two of you skipping in circles, laughing and completely out of breath, but it’s a blast.

And then you catch something out of the corner of your eye that makes you stop dead in your tracks. Mingyu doesn’t even notice that you’ve stopped until he trips over your foot, looking down at you in confusion. “You givin’ up on me?”

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

The voice comes from Joshua in the corner, which means somehow word spread about tonight’s falling out without you knowing, and now everyone is looking at your ex, boldly and moronically standing a few feet away from you which is several feet too close for their liking. Unsurprisingly, it’s Hoshi who’s already in his face, smiling in the most menacing fashion. “This is a private event so unfortunately for you, you’ll have to fuck off.”

Jae scoffs aloud, “I don’t give a shit about your party.”

Then his scowl twists into a smirk but it’s cruel and mirthless, his eyes falling on you and Mingyu who had at some point out of habit placed his body just in front of your own.

“I came for my girl but it looks like she’s already moved on for the night, throwing herself at one of you sorry assholes because I couldn’t make time for her. Typical.”

Mingyu anticipates you trying to step around him and quickly catches you around the waist to hold you back at the same time that Seokmin stands from his chair so quickly it falls backwards and lands with a loud clatter. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he warns menacingly.

“Watch my mouth? I’m just pointing out that facts. I should have known that’s why she suddenly didn’t want me here,” he goes on like every pair of eyes on him aren’t glaring daggers, “Would have ruined her plans to get shit-faced and open her legs for whichever one of you looked at her first.”

Jeonghan hurls himself at Jae with an opened switchblade in his hand but, thankfully, Joshua and Jihoon catch him first, and the bastard laughs knowing none of them would let Jeonghan get close enough to do something stupid. Not with witnesses around anyway.

Jae tilts his head, speaking directly to Jeonghan with his hands in his pockets and condescention dripping from his tongue, “You’re her big brother,” he pouts, just pouring salt in the wound, “You’re really just going to sit back and allow all your friends to take turns with your little sister? The crew’s designated whor-”

He barely forms a smirk before Seungcheol appears out of nowhere and suckerpunches him in the mouth so hard the crack is audible throughout the bar. Unfortunately for Jae, he’s still conscious when he hits the ground, broken teeth and blood pouring from his maw as he screams in excruciating pain. You’re sure his jaw is broken and you’re glad.

Absolutely no one moves to help him. Hardly even bats an eye.

Then, Seungcheol draws his leg back and kicks Jae in the stomach which means he’s not done and after what your ex just said…you’re not sure anyone in your crew will step in to stop him. You move instantly, pulling yourself out of Mingyu’s protective grip to push your way to the front where you’re relieved to see Vernon already attempting to pull his friend away and he does but not before your ex’s hand is crushed under the sole of Seungcheol’s boot and the screaming starts anew.

When you reach them, you immediately put yourself in the middle without hesitation, both hands against Seungcheol’s chest in an effort to calm him down before he loses it completely. One of his hands is still clenched at his side and you’re trying desperately to get him to look down at you. He doesn’t but his other hand comes up to sit at your hip and that’s enough of an acknowledgement that you relax, just slightly.

You turn just your head to look down at Jae who’s never looked more pitiful. Covered in blood, dirt, snot, and tears.

Seungcheol glares over your shoulder at the broken man on the floor, his arm now firmly seated around your body in a possessive display as he growls, “Always running your fucking mouth,” then he nods in your brother’s direction, “I should let him cut your tongue out.”

Jeonghan’s knife spins dangerously between his deft fingers like he’s itching to use it.

He’s no longer restrained, nearly deranged, and begins stalking toward your ex who flinches away and frantically shakes his head, unable to speak with his mangled mouth. Your voice cuts clear into the charged air. “Jeonghan,” you call out and your brother stops mid-step to look up at you patiently. You shake your head at him and he concedes but the fire in his eyes is palpable.

He smiles down at Jae, voice lilting and deadly. “You’re safe…for now,” he tilts his head, crouching down to get closer, “And don’t bother running back to your crew for help or hope for some form of retaliation,” He pauses, covering his mouth with his knife, giggling with feral delight dancing in his eyes, “I bet you didn’t tell them where you were going or who you were fucking with because they never would have let you come and I can only imagine how pissed they’re going to be when they find out.”

Jae’s brows furrow indicating his confusion and Jeonghan laughs again, wiggling his long fingers, tapping them with the point of his blade. “How do you think your ring leader lost two fingers on his right hand? That pretty scar down the side of his face? It was an improvement if you ask me,” he croons and Jae’s eyes widen with renewed horror, “Loyal little lap dog ever since and hilariously, still harboring a rather sweet crush on my darling sister. Small world, huh? We’ll be sure to let him know how you feel about her and who’s responsible for,” he waves his hand with an air of distaste, gesturing to Jae, “This.”

When Jeongan stands again, his smile falls flat and you turn your head quickly, tucking it into Cheol’s chest when you hear the crunch and subsequent thud as your brother stomps and knocks Jae out cold. It’s cruel, perhaps, but now knowing who exactly he’s been working for, you’d consider this a mercy compared to wait awaits him.

Seungcheol lifts his chin with a silent order and Junhui and Mingyu are already stepping forward to haul Jae’s unconscious form out of the bar with Joshua leisurely striding behind them, Jae’s phone in hand. They’ll dump him outside, a few blocks away. He’s lucky they’re not animals - Josh will use Jae’s phone to deliver a personal message to his crew but beyond that, he’s no longer your crew’s problem. Retaliation isn’t even a concern in this situation.

The atmosphere is obviously soured and you can still feel the rage swirling in the air. There isn’t a single member of your crew who wouldn’t have loved a turn. Even Minghao, calm and even, the most level-headed in situations like this has a particular air of cruelty about him in the moment and Jessie at his side tucks away a glittering pair of brass knuckles. You don’t have to glance around to they are waiting for an order and Cheol still has his eyes focused on the door. There are also a few patrons who are not associated with your crew, the kind who know when to mind their business, but even they seem to be waiting to be told what to do next.

So, you clear your throat and try to paint on a pretty smile.

“Pardon the interuption,” you sigh, each head in the room swiveling in your direction, “Turn the music up and order another round for the whole bar,” you glance up to find Seuncheol already looking down at you and you pat his chest, “Drinks are still on the big guy so you’d better take advantage while he’s still feeling generous.”

Thankfully, its enough to get everyone moving again, your crew falling right back into the party swing as if nothing happened. It was so easy for them to flip the switch sometimes. From volatile back to joyous - back to shots, and karaoke, and dancing.

Seungcheol was still furious though. He doesn’t bounce back nearly as fast.

“Why don’t we take a walk out back?”

He doesn’t budge for a moment and you say his name a little more firmly this time to which he reponds, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

No one asks questions or follows the two of you when he takes your hand and leads you out the back and into the crisp night air. It’s dark but the moon etches just enough light that you can still see each other easily. Seungcheol’s shoulders are tense and you watch his fists clench and unfurl methodically. They’re also red and angry after making direct contact with Jae’s teeth. The thought makes your gut roil.

“Choi Seungcheol,” you lightly grumble, “You can’t go around hospitalizing every asshole that is mean to me.”

Nothing at first and then there’s a little huff of laughter. “I can absolutely do just that, or worse. Besides, I only hit him once.”

“You broke his jaw…and probably a few ribs with that kick,” you sigh and lean back against the building, glancing up at the sky. “My point is that I know you can but that doesn’t mean you should. If you get arrested, who’s gonna take care of me?”

He smirks. “Spoiled.”

“Your fault,” you roll your eyes and really look at him. “I didn’t know he was working for Kaito, obviously. You know I would’ve cut him off completely If I had.”

“I didn’t know either,” he admits, shrugging off your surprise, “Jeonghan must have found out and kept it to himself. You know how he likes to hold onto things until its useful. Your brother is kind of a sadistic asshole sometimes.”

“Hannie is just eccentric and has weird hobbies,” you counter with a small grin, “Besides, he’s your best friend so think about what that says about you.”

He just winks in response. It’s maddening and attractive, per usual.

“Mhm,” you hum quietly, pleased to watch him unwind in front of you, because of you. “I’m glad to see you’re in a better mood,” you tease him, “I thought for a few that you might have been mad at me.”

Cheol lets out a long sigh and digs his hands into his pockets. “I’m never mad at you.”

You cross your arms and quirk a brow at him, “That’s a blatant lie and you know it. I can’t even count how many times you’ve chewed my ass out for one thing or another.”

“The handful of times that I have yelled at you came directly after you did something dangerous,” he argues back with a short laugh, “Calling your ex, that fucker in particular, makes me question your judgement and maybe your sanity, but it’s not a reason for me to be mad at you. If anything it’s mild frustration.”

You narrow your eyes at him. It’s more than mild. “Say what you need to say, Cheol.”

He squares his shoulders, face serious much like his tone. “You’re too smart to keep choosing assholes that let you down over and over again. So, why do you do it?”

You purse your lips. “Touche,” he’s not wrong, “I am self aware enough to admit my track record is shit but there is not a lot to work with. It’s not as though our dating pool is stellar, Cheol. We’re lowlifes…we associates with other lowlifes. Nice boys like girls like me until they realize I’m not worth the trouble.”

He sputters out a laugh and steps closer, just enough to lower his voice in the echoing alley way. A touch closer and you could probably steal a little body heat you’re starting to wish for. “You are the trouble,” his eyes sparkle when he says it, like its a compliment, “Nice boys too soft for you anyway and we’re not lowlifes…we just live a little differently. You can do better,” he smirks when you roll your eyes again, “You can…you just don’t.”

You uncross your arms and spread them out before you. “Oh, any suggestions? I forgot you were a dating expert-” then you break into a laugh and Cheol is throwing his head back, knowing what’s coming. “Oh, wait! I forgot. You’ve not had a girlfriend in what? Five years? Eight?”

He snatches both your hands out of the air and pushes them back toward your chest, trying to reign in his amusement and overall urge to smother you. “You’re high maintenance enough. Why the hell would I need a girlfriend? I’ve got enough on my plate.”

You reach out and lightly punch him in the chest. “You’re a big boy, Cheol. Don’t let me hold you back. I can handle myself.”

At this, he snorts and pulls a hand out of his pocket to point at you. “You can handle yourself? Did I not pick you up in a police station two months ago for speeding…again?”

You pull off the wall with your mouth open to defend yourself and he abruptly pushes you right back against it and continues. “Who taught you how to drive and took the blame when you ran over Jeonghan’s bike when you were fifteen? Who showed up at three in the morning to pick your drunk ass up at that halloween party just so you could puke in my car and my bed…all night?” he pushes closer and lowers his voice “Who bailed you out of jail four months ago when you took a glass bottle to someone’s head in club and it turned out to be a fucking cop?”

“He looked like any other perv fondling girls on the dance floor!” You shout, eyes wide and wild as if someone would overhear, “How was I supposed to know he was a cop?! And why does it matter? He was a creep and I’d do it again!”

Seungcheol is simply dissolving into laughter, his earlier shit mood absolutely erased, and then as your volume grows he starts attempting to shush you though it’s half-assed.

“Shhhh,” he laughs even harder, “I know, I know. I’m just teasing,” he grins when you finally crack a small smile, “Honestly, I was so proud of you that night. Took fifteen stitches to sew him back together and I hear it’s left a big ugly scar.”

You scoff in disbelief at his blatant pride. “Proud?! You chewed my ass out the entire way home.”

“Quit doing dangerous shit without me,” he shrugs unapologetically, “If you’re gonna get yourself in trouble, at least make sure I’m there to back you up.”

You roll your eyes, placing your cool hands under your chin to warm them. A cold wind whips through the alley, tossing his soft black hair around. Naturally, he steps into the wind’s path, blocking you from the worst of it because that’s what he does. It grants you the opportunity to slide a little closer and he chuckles, catching on very quickly to what you’re trying to do. Use him as both a human shield and personal heater.

He looks down at you with that soft gaze you know is only reserved for you. As you’ve grown older together, you’ve learned that it’s best to avoid basking in it for more than a few seconds at a time. Your eyes dart down to his chest and back up again, not quite meeting his eyes this time. “It’s colder than I thought it would be tonight.”

He pulls your jacket a little tighter around you. “We can go back inside if you want.”

Whatever you want - it’s always whatever you want. Sometimes you just want to know what Seungcheol wants.

You hold eye contact with him now, just watching to see if his expression changes at all. It’s almost dizzying, staring at one another so closely. A stupid decision on your part, honestly.

“What if I asked you to take me home?”

Simple. “We can go home. Just gotta grab my key-”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “Actually, I think we should go back in and sing karaoke.”

His lips pull up, always quick to pick up on the game. “What song? I love karaoke.”

“Liar. You hate karaoke,” you grin, “Why do you give into anything I ask?”

His smile is so beautiful - it always has been.

“I do not give into everything,” he corrects you and then huffs in amusement, “Go ahead, try your luck but put some actual thought into it. You know most things are negotiable for lowlifes like us.”

“Great! So, you’ll let me drive your car tomorrow night?” you bat your eyes at him soo prettily. It’s in the bag.

He hardly budges. “No,” comes from those plump lips more clearly than you’ve ever heard it in your life and you instinctually pout like a child which amuses him. “I said put some actual thought into it. You’re a terrible driver.”

“You also said to try my luck,” you answer and it comes out more like a grumble, “Which has apparently abandoned me tonight.”

The way you drop your shoulders and pull yourself inward knocks him off kilter and his smile drops in a split second. When he speaks again, his voice is just a touch deeper - less playful, more gentle. The change is so slight that anyone else would miss it but you’ve got that shift of his rooted in your memory at this point.

“Your luck? Maybe,” he tips his head in consideration, close enough that he’s slipped his arms around you, big hands splayed comfortingly against the middle of your back, “I’m still here though.”

You know you should put some space in between your bodies right now but that little voice that is usually telling you to mind your boundaries is so far away in the moment that you do the opposite. Closing the distance, you look up at him as you slip your hands around his waist beneath his jacket. “Yeah, you’re always here for me. Aren’t you?”

When he dips his head closer, his tone is surprisingly serious. “I hope that’s not an actual question at this point.”

His free hand comes up to catch the back of your neck as you move to pull away, to ask him to explain or just to confirm that what you’re feeling is mercifully mutually, but you’re trapped - body painted against Seungcheol’s in the moonlight. It’s probably the most intimate position you’ve ever been in with him and your heart thrashes in your chest.

“I’ve always been right here,” his nose and lips brush your cheek as he speaks, “Patiently waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” you ask too softly but he smiles, you can feel it against your skin.

“For you to get tired of playing house,” He chides gently, “You already have a home with me and you know it.”

To say it out loud for the first time is almost staggering for Seungcheol and it’s a devastating revelation for you. Each time you tried dating someone new it had felt like a cheap replacement to distract you from the despairing thoughts of loving Seungcheol and him not loving you back, but he was there. Watching, waiting, already belonging to you in every way the entire time.

The first sound out of your mouth is escaped laughter. It’s soft and disbelieving.

Seungcheol smiles as he pulls back enough to see your face. “You genuinely didn’t know?”

You shake your head back and forth, still laughing, and the dimples in his cheeks pinch as he’s rolling his eyes at you, snickering to himself. “You’re the worst. I seriously thought you were playing dumb on purpose,” he groans, though his hands meet in the middle of your back now, comfortably laced like he plans on staying this way for a while. “Tell me. Who are all those idiots in there to you?”

Easy. “They’re my brothers.”

“And who am I?”

Your lips twitch and he smirks. “You’re just…Seungcheol,” saying it makes everything so plain and simple. So obvious. “You’re my Seungcheol.”

“Exactly. Have I ever felt like a brother to you? Like just a friend?” he prods, pretty white teeth still on display. He’s going to drive his point home like always.

“Listen, jerk,” you poke him in the chest with a long sigh, “Of course you never felt like those things to me. I didn’t want to see you as just a friend and definitely not as a brother, gross,” you grimace at the thought, “But just because I felt that way about you doesn’t mean I thought you felt the same. I thought it was all very one-sided and I was just going to eventually get over it.”

He raises a single brow. “And,” he blinks pointedly, “Have you gotten over it yet?

“Unfortunately not.”

“Good.”

Good because he’s truly out of patience at this point and he’s going to make sure you know exactly how he feels without question.

And that’s how you find yourself caged up against the wall outside the bar, Seungcheol’s lips hungirly claiming your own. His hands trace your body outside your clothing until he gets tired of the separation and you jolt feeling his cold hands against your waist beneath your shirt. There isn’t a second of stillness. He’s constantly moving, shifting, giving, taking.

You’re no better.

The second he kissed you it was like a flood of energy zapping each and every one of your nerves. After your lips, your arms were quickly in motion, wrapping around his neck and shoulders. Fingers threading through and tugging at his hair. He touched you and kissed you so thoroughly that despite the fact that is freezing and you’re indeed, exposed outside while your friends are just on the other side of that back door, you want more.

More, more, more.

Seungcheol does too.

“Let’s go,” he mumbles between your lips, still too enthralled to pull away.

It makes you laugh, though it’s a little delirious because he’s back to sucking and biting pretty little marks onto your neck, and you peel your eyelids open to see the fog from your breath as you speak. “It’s Seok’s birthday,” your mouth pops open with a silent gasp as he bites you again, “We can’t just leave.”

He drags himself back up and meets your eyes, grinning, “Like hell we can’t. Go get in my car,” he digs his keys out of his pocket and passes them over, “I’ll let the boys know we’re leaving.”

You stand there for a moment, keys in your outstretched hand, “Wait!” you realize he’s already opening the door. He’s so serious. “What are you going to tell them?”

He shrugs, “That we have better things to do.”

Appalling. “Seungcheol!”

Now he’s smirking. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell them we’re leaving and going back to my place to fu-”

“SEUNGCHEOL!”

“You don’t want me to lie and you don’t want me to tell the truth,” he blinks back at you, “I am not sure what you want from me, baby.”

Well. Brain melted. If he’s calling you ‘Baby’ he can do whatever he damn well pleases.

“I’ll be waiting,” you laugh, quickly spinning on your heel before you drag him away and he doesn’t get a chance to tell anyone you’re leaving. They probably wouldn’t notice for a few hours anyway. You shake your head, hurrying your steps toward his car.

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity but it’s only been a few minutes and when you glance out the window he’s already hurrying back. You’re not sure if he just caught the first person he saw and told them to pass it on or if he walked in and announced it to the entire bar but you honestly don’t care. You’re maybe fifteen minutes from the garage, Cheol’s permanent (and your home away from) home. He’ll probably make it in eight with the way he drives.

“I’m surprised to not find you in the driver’s seat,” he laughs, shutting the door and immediately bringing the car to life.

“You’re the better driver and I’d like to get there quickly.”

Smirking, he smoothly backs out of his parking space and peels out onto the road. “I think you’re plenty good at speeding. If your record has anything to say about it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Ok, so you’re better at speeding and not getting caught. This is why I handle the other business aspects.”

His hand slips over the middle and lands on your thigh, kneading and flexing possessively.

Watching you handle business has always intrigued and infuriated him. You’ve swindled awful men out of house and home - lining your crew’s pockets with all the spoils. It had always been a fine line between letting you work while recognizing how good you were at your job and trying not to strangle every dickhead who thought that fake smile you gave them was genuine. “Might have to retire you now.”

You pout in his direction knowing his moody comment is nothing more than his protective, if not slightly dominant, nature coming through. He’s not at all serious, even if he’d like to be. “You gonna take care of me so I don’t have to work anymore?”

He grins at the suggestion. “You know I’ll take care of you, baby. Minghao is plenty good-looking. We’ll start using him instead.”

You snort at the thought. “You’re better off sending, Jeonghan. He's pretty, charming, and he knows exactly how to get what he wants out of anyone. Why do you think I’m so good at it? Learned from the best.”

“Yeah,” Cheol turns, the wheel smoothly gliding through his hand, “I don’t typically have to worry about you stabbing or torturing anyone though.”

“Typically?” you turn in surprise, laughing, “Are you saying it has been a concern?”

He looks at you with a brow quirked. “Once or twice,” he scoffs, “You are way more like your brother than you realize.”

“Oh? You got a thing for him too?”

He snickers in response, shaking his head. “Little shit.”

He squeezes the meat of your thigh again and you realize he’s shifted his hand higher, his fingers spread wide, the pads biting into your jeans. “Quit flirting with me and drive faster.”

The only sound that follows is his quiet amusement and the roar of the engine.

Pulling into the garage, you’re feeling too charged from the quiet, electrifying tension. It makes you feel jerky, like every movement of your body takes too much effort and every surface you touch shocks your skin. You’re already eyeing the stairs leading up to his loft but he’s taking his sweet time coming around the front of his car, waiting for the garage doors to roll back down. You want to barrel straight into him but you don’t exactly trust your legs to carry you.

The doors close with a loud thud and he looks over at you still standing near the passenger door. “You look nervous,” he smiles softly, making his way around the car until his hands are seated over your hips. “We don’t have to-”

“No, no, that’s not it,” you huff out a laugh, “I think all the anticipation made my body stop working. Everything is tingly and sharp, and I don’t think I can move. Stop laughing at me!”

He can’t. Seungcheol is simply beside himself. You really can’t blame him. Truly, too horny and excited to walk? That’s got to be a new one. It certainly is for you.

“I can carry you, it’s fine.”

But he is still shaking with laughter and we’re talking a whole ass flight of stairs. It’s not fine, though Cheol is already scooping you up and you're frantically trying to situate yourself on his back because that seems like the safest option and you’re already off the ground. He’s not putting you back down until you’re both behind closed doors.

“Oh my god,” you bury your face in his shoulder as he takes the first few steps up the stairs, “This is such a bad idea!”

His hands are firmly seated beneath your thighs and your arms are wrapped so tightly around his shoulders that you’re not even shifting much as he carries you but it’s nerve wracking and honestly, a bit embarrassing. He’s incredibly proud and stubborn so there really is no hope in convincing him to put you down anyway.

“Stop panicking,” he laughs, now halfway up the stairs, “I’m not even struggling so your lack of faith in me is hurting my feelings. You act like you’ve never seen me workout. I do it for a reason.”

“I thought the reason was just because you like to beat people up.”

He huffs in amusement, “Fighting isn’t fun when you’re not winning.”

“Well, you always win so you must be having a blast,” you pinch his earlobe, rolling your eyes since he can’t catch you doing it.

When he reaches the landing, he digs into his pocket, unlocking the door with one hand and then kicking it shut once you’re both inside. Then he lets you slide down his back but before your feet actually hit the ground, he’s spinning around to pick you right back up. He laughs at the sound you make, quickly grabbing his shoulders and crossing your ankles at his back. Cheol flips the lock on the door and takes you into the small kitchen, setting you down on the counter.

“I always win when you’re watching,” he plants his hands on either side of you, leaning closer, “You get mad at me when I don’t, so, I stopped losing.”

He looks up at you with a boyish grin and you bring your hands up, lightly touching his cheeks with your finger tips. You’ve seen his soft skin mottled with bruising more times than you cared to think about. “I don’t care about losing,” you murmur, lost in thought, “I just hate it when you get hurt.”

Tracing a finger over his right brow you remember that night years ago when he returned from a job with it split wide open, blood dripping down his pale face. Busted lips, fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and an awful limp. It was the first time you ever saw him so…broken.

You yelled at him for getting hurt but cradled his face in your hands the whole time. While Minghao sutured it closed, you continued cursing at him and everyone else who’d gone out that night but you never let go of his hand. When Joshua reset Cheol’s shoulder and he nearly passed out from the pain, you sobbed. For days you’d been furious with him yet you stayed over at his place for almost two solid weeks to take care of him.

Putting him back together with your own two hands was the only way you could convince yourself that he was okay and from then on, you accompanied him on most jobs. Anytime things got messy, he’d come out victorious, and the very few times you weren’t there, he returned nearly unscathed. Bloodied knuckles at most.

Your fingers must have drifted down to his lips because he kisses them and it brings you back to the present. He smiles against your fingertips and you move them under his jaw, out of the way, just so you can kiss him again. It’s soft, slow, adoring and his hands slide into place right at your lower back, his fingers pushing beneath your shirt to stroke your skin.

When they make contact, his fingers spread wide, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. It makes your back arch, pitching your hips forward, and leaves you sitting poised for the taking but even then he takes his time. In the back of your mind, you’re sure he can feel your heat against his groin and it must be driving him just as insane as it does you.

Despite the body heat, when he pushes your shirt up a little further with his busy hands, you shiver at how cold you still are. It’s accompanied by a breathy little gasp that makes him pull away grinning, eyes still watching your mouth. “Still cold?”

“Yeah,” you admit, “Do you ever turn the heat on in this place?”

“Only when you’re here. I don’t usually need it.”

Of course not. Big manly man.

“You’re going to need it if you’re still hoping to get my clothes off.”

Cheol pays no mind to your change in tone. The one you use to nag him to death. Instead he scoops you right off the counter, starting toward his bedroom. “I can warm you up myself just fine,” he says in an equally haughty kind of way.

The kind of way that shuts you up because the only other thing that you could possibly manage is some pathetic giggle. He even makes a show of hanging onto to you with only one arm because he’s just so strong and you humor him with an ‘oh wooooow’ that makes him crack, laughing as he lets you slowly drop to the floor.

Your hand remains on his chest, nervously pinching at his shirt as you look around the room. You’ve been in here before just…not for anything like this. “Why does this feel normal and not normal at the same time,” you pause, realizing there is actually something different that you hadn’t noticed right away.

Seungcheol let’s his hands drop away so you can walk over to his dresser to sate your…curiosity? Surprise? “You said I needed more personal decorations around the house,” he clears his throat, watching as you carefully lift his picture frames off the furniture to examine them, “I figured pictures were personal enough.”

There is one of Cheol as a teenager standing proudly beside his first car. Another with a few members of the crew all grinning around a card table. You loosen a soft laugh remembering that night clearly. Mingyu and Hoshi shouting over the table like banshees…all because Hoshi got caught cheating and blamed it on his favorite designated target.

You pick up one you don’t recognize but smile at the familiar faces hanging out of the windows of a car you do recognize vaguely. The job details were hazy but you know you remember that car for some reason.

Seungcheol must have noticed you squinting at it because he comes over and stands behind you, pointing at the picture. “You don’t remember this one because you broke into a case of wine coolers the moment we were all home and accounted for,” he chuckles, his breath tickling your cheek, “Almost seven years ago now.”

“I hated waiting for you guys to come home,” you pout, pointing to the picture, “Why do I remember this car though? It’s so familiar.”

He laughs again and this time you spin toward him like the reason he is laughing is clearly painted on his face. It’s not but he fills in the blanks without prompting.

“Jeonghan caught you in the backseat of that exact car making out with Seungkwan, of all people,” Cheol grins at your grimace “We hauled you both off to bed, tucked you in, and agreed not to tell a soul. I honestly don’t think he knows about it either. You guys were wasted.”

“I definitely do not remember doing that but I did oddly stop drinking wine coolers not long after that night,” you sigh, tucking away the embarrassing story to kick your self over later.

“Guilty subconscious?”

Shrugging off your jacket you give him a fake laugh which eventually morphs into a grin. “Were you jealous back then?”

He takes your lead, removing his clothes one piece at a time. “I was always jealous,” he admits and you let yourself stop to watch as he grabs at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. It leaves him only in his jeans, belt already unbuckled.

You’re the opposite, jeans kicked to the side, but your hands rest on your shirt, too busy looking at Seungcheol to force yourself to keep moving. He’s no better, eyes glued to your hips, to your underwear, your legs, and then his eyes bounce back up to your face, finally noticing the way you’re looking at him.

He takes a slow step forward and then another.

“I’m not perfect,” he cautions, another step closer, “I’m stubborn and jealous,” one more step until you’re touching, “I don’t like sharing. If one of the guys flirts with you, even as a joke, I’ll probably rip their head off. Might happen more than once but I’ll get over it eventually, I promise.”

“Hmm,” you smirk as he stops so closely you can feel the heat coming of his body, “A little sensitive?”

“Maybe.” His smile is so pretty and disarming because now his hands are on you, palms rubbing circles into your hips before sliding back and down over your ass. “You’ve been chipping away at my self control for over a decade and now you’re half-naked in my bedroom. I’ve hit my breaking point, baby. I’m going to be selfish with you.”

You shift just enough to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it in the general direction of your pants, and settle your arms around his shoulders. “I think it’s only fair because I have always been selfish with you and i’ll be so much worse now,” you grin and he let’s out a heavy, husky chuckle, tightening his thick arms around you, “I’m going to be a menace.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I’m still cold.”

Then he’s kissing you again, your hands quickly moving from his shoulders to his waist, pushing his jeans as low as you can before he’s forced to part and pull them the rest of the way off, laughing and stumbling with you toward the bed. You land first, quickly shuffling under the comforter for warmth and he’s right behind you, rolling you onto your back to cover you with his body. It’s an added layer of heat and you wiggle beneath him when his thigh pushes between your legs.

Seungcheol wants everything all at once and hates having to choose but loves knowing he’ll get the opportunity to do it all in good time. For now, he can’t seem to keep away from your lips, can’t stop the noises he makes everytime you tug at his hair or scrape your nails against his back and he hopes to god they leave bright red scratches in their wake.

He wants to watch you get shy and embarrassed when he works out with them on full display. His ego is a beast and it’s going to be riding a high for a while.

When you push up against him, he gives you a little space to quickly undo your bra before it’s tossed to the floor and he’s slipping a little lower, his face pressed against your soft, warm chest. His mouth dances from one breast to the other and you moan into the open air of his bedroom, one of your hands still rubbing his back, smoothing over his muscles mindlessly. His perfect teeth graze your nipples and you grind down against his thigh.

He pushes it higher and repeats the action over and over until you’re steadily working yourself up and then he shifts, taking that relief away from you. Your eyes pop open in surprise but he kisses you again before you can speak and his right hand slides into your panties, wet and uncomfortably cool against your folds now that his thigh is gone.

He doesn’t waste time, running his middle and ring finger up and down until they’re so slick-coated that there is hardly any resistance when he slips them inside you, stroking up against that spot that has you arching your back off the bed. It’s almost cruel how quickly he gets you there and even worse that he hardly touches your clit before you come, stars flashing behind your eyes.

Seungcheol kisses your face through it, whispering sweet, filthy praises against your skin. That’s my girl, you’re so fucking good for me, baby. Sound so pretty right now, wanna hear you say my name just like that.

It’s a miracle you don’t come again the second he pushes into you because he doesn’t stop talking unless his mouth is occupied and he’s too good at multitasking. The only time you get a break from his wicked words is when he’s bottoming out and your ears are ringing so loudly that you can’t even hear him anymore. He must realize it too because his mouth was moving and now, he’s just grinning, eyes trained on your lips when he draws his hips back a little and pushes back in.

His pace varies because he likes watching the breath get caught in your throat, breaking up the gorgeous sounds spilling from your lips. For all the taunting and talking he’s done, he’s just as worked up as you are and suddenly sits up on his knees which changes the angle. He spreads your thighs further apart, almost crudely, and props your ass a bit higher. At first, he wraps his hands around your thighs for leverage, digging his fingers into your skin but it’s not enough, he needs more.

When he moves his hands to either side of your waist, he locks in the perfect position to go as deep as possible and the sounds you begin making are far more desperate, the pitch swinging higher and higher until he’s moaning and panting, driving into you faster and harder than before. You know you’re going to come again, and fast, so when your eyes meets his, and he purses his lips, letting spit drop from his plump lips onto your clit, he doesn’t have to tell you aloud what to do.

You bring your own hand down, rubbing yourself until your limbs start twitching. Your breaths are so shallow and ragged, your fingertips messily bumping against the base of his cock where he plunges in and out of your cunt recklessly. He looks just as far gone as you do but the second your eyes meet, he smirks and it’s your absolute undoing.

When you orgasm for the second time it’s so intense that all of your muscles lock up aside from your legs which shake uncontrollably and Seungcheol groans, hips stuttering when he feels the overabundance over warm liquid spilling out around his cock, splashing against his groin and stomach, dripping onto the bed. He stills, filling you so completely full that you can’t even breath without adding to the mess you’ve both created.

It takes several long minutes of heavy panting and blinking to get your heads on straight and he still doesn’t pull out. Not even when he slumps down against you, grinning and kissing you lazily. He’s doesn’t give a single fuck about the mess, even going to so far as pumping his hips a few times, laughing when you hide your face under your arm at the lewd sounds echoing through the room.

It’s playful at first, those half-hearted thrusts, but then his kisses turn into little nips, his mouth starts spilling those dirty words in your ear and it’s not long until you can feel him getting hard inside of you again, having never pulled out in the first place. He keeps fucking into you slowly, swallowing the sound of your whining, revelling in the way your nails no longer just rake over his skin but painfully dig into it over his shoulder blades.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t give you the chance to wiggle away from him when the sharp tingling of overstimulation bleeds into, “Oh, fuck, Cheol, I’m gonna come again…fuck…”

And you do until tears stream down your face and he pulls out, flips you over, and puts it right back in, fucking you brutally until he’s moaning and cumming, and you’re nearly ready to pass out in the bed you’ve both absolutely ruined. You hear him speaking but can’t make out the words and then maybe your eyes close because you’re sated and exhausted.

It doesn’t last long though because Seungcheol is attempting to drag you from sleep because he needs to clean you both up and change the sheets before anyone crashes for the night but you’re not budging.

Until you feel the sensation of thick fingers pushing into your cunt and you mumble aloud, “Absolutely no…straight to jail.”

Seungcheol laughs at you having not even moved when you said it and removes his hand. “I tried waking you up nicely and you kept ignoring me. Besides, it’s all starting to spill out and I like seeing you full. If you keep laying here I’m going to end up fucking it all back in and giving you more.”

Rolling onto your back takes an incredible amount of willpower and Cheol’s helping hands because your hips are stiff as all hell. He’s patient, not pushing beyond your limits even though you’re sure he could go a few more rounds without tiring in the least. Affection swirls in your chest and it takes him by surprise when you reach a hand up and around his neck to pull him down to your lips.

HIs body relaxes into the bed, pressing his weight more firmly into the mattress to keep the pressure light where it covers your own. He kisses you tenderly, his hands moving softly and slowly over your skin, and your mind is emptied of all but the feel of him. It’s overwhelming, how deeply attuned you are to one another and yet your body continues to demand more.

Your kiss is broken off in a choked moan, Seungcheol’s, when your hand snakes between your bodies. He drops his forehead to yours, taking in a deep, shaky breath when you rub the head of his cock into the mess between your folds. “Again?” he questions, even as his hips push forward of their own accord.

“Again…” you breathe out, tipping your face up to catch his bottom lip with a gentle nip, “..and again, and again, and agai-”

The delirious smile on your face drops open as he pushes back inside. Your tight, swollen cunt aches with the intrusion but each shockwave that pulses through you is laced with pointed pleasure. The effort to keep his pace even and gentle is difficult but Cheol finds very quickly that there is something incredibly arrousing about slow, deep, intimate fucking.

He’s never experienced anything like it because he’s never had you.

Yet here you are beneath him, clawing at his back and shoulders, moaning against his throat, and he knows it will only ever be like this with you. He knew he was ruined for all others years ago but in this moment he fully understands the weight of it.

Seungcheol will never want anyone but you.

And when you unravel together again, you look into his eyes and know it too.

The next morning it takes an unprecidented amount of effort to wake up.

Your body aches and joints pop in too many places when you stretch your limbs as if you’ve been asleep for years and not mere hours. It’s easy to pinpoint the loss of warmth at your side, Seungcheol hardly ever sleeps in and it’s evident by the smell of fresh coffee wafting in through the open bedroom door.

Slipping into the shirt he’d left you and your jeans from last night, you wander in and out of the bathroom and head straight to the kitchen. Cheol knows you don’t drink coffee but you do love the smell of it so the sight of a full, almost untouched pot makes you laugh. His mug sits abandoned in the sink so you rinse it out and refill it, carefully balancing the full cup in your hands as you leave his apartment and head down the stairs into the garage.

Joshua is the first person you find, unsurprising as he never seems to get hungover no matter how much he drinks the night before. He’s sitting at one of the work tables pouring over a set of blue prints for a new job when you walk by, chuckling and swatting away your hand when you ruffle his hair. “Morning Joshie.” He waves over his shoulder as you keep walking.

It’s relatively quiet in the garage for a Saturday morning but most of your crew is probably passed out from the evening prior. You would have stayed in bed longer too if someone wasn’t missing from it - someone you still haven’t found. Instead, you happen upon Jeonghan and Mingyu working on an engine…you think…again, not your expertise.

“Well, well, well,” Jeonghan drawls as he catches you approaching from the corner of his eye, “If it’s not my darling little sister,” he grins and leans over to kiss your cheek when you stop in front of him, “Whatever are you doing here, in the garage, smelling like sex and coffee, so early on this delightful Saturday morning?”

You give your brother a deadpan stare and Mingyu snickers behind him.

“Where’s Cheol?”

“Bringing in another delivery with Jun in the back,” Mingyu mumbles half-way under the hood with tools in hand, “Should be finishing up soon.”

Jeonghan leans against the car and crosses his arms. “Is this an official thing?”

You know he’s only asking because he loves you both so deeply that if there were any chance of it being a fling where feelings are inevitably going to be trampled, he’s putting an end to it immediately. He’s so fiercely protective that he’d step in to protect you from yourselves without hesitation.

“That man would have to be thirty feet deep in the ground to leave me.”

“Isn’t the saying ‘six-feet deep’?” Mingyu laughs, still focusing on his task.

“I said what I said and honestly thirty-feet still might not be enough - you’ll probably have to bury me with him.”

Jeonghan relaxes, shrugging off the tension in his body with a loose laugh. “Good to know,” he grins, eyes soft and gentle once more, “I always knew you’d end up together once you both gave up the world’s most stubborn ass competition.”

He’s not wrong. Who knew a little communication could go a long way? Certainly not you and Cheol.

Two cars pull up outside the open garage door across the way and you wiggle your fingers in greeting when Vernon, Hoshi, Wonwoo and Jihoon all pop out looking absolutely exhausted. You turn and set Cheol’s mug down on the counter behind you and pull out a stool to take a seat and hang out.

“Wonwoo wouldn’t let us stop for breakfast please tell me there are still leftovers from lunch in the fridge,” Hoshi complains loudly. He absolutely still looks a little drunk.

Jihoon shoves him to the side and makes a beeline for the fridge around the corner, the two of them cursing and bickering as they go. Wonwoo and Vernon pull up a stool next to you and now you’re feeling a little guilty for only bringing one mug down.

“Where’s Cheol?” Wonwoo asks, pushing his glasses up and shaking out his messy hair.

Jeonghan tosses a thumb in his direction, “Delivery.”

Wonwoo nods and Vernon taps your shoulder. “Hey, you’re here kinda early. Where did you go last night? Lost you at some point.”

Your cheeks heat. There are some of the guys you make crude jokes with and some you don’t - both Vernon and Wonwoo being on one side while Mingyu and Jeonghan are on the opposite. “Oh, I uhhh-”

“Notice anyone else missing last night?”

“Jeonghan-”

Vernon’s brows pinch together in thought. Mingyu stands up, setting down his tools before wiping his hands on his pants. “You know,” he grins, “Guy who lives in a garage, goofy laugh, kinda mean…”

Wonwoo breaks out in hysterics and Vernon’s grin is entirely visible though you’re sure he is trying to make it disappear when he says, “Oh! Oh okay…yeah…that makes sense. So, you’re like…yeah?”

You snort in response nodding your head. “Mhm, we’re like yeah.”

“Who’s like what?” Hoshi says around a mouthful, coming up to join you with Jihoon stomping past him empty-handed to go help Joshua.

“Her and Cheol finally got together,” Wonwoo supplies and Hoshi’s eyes light up.

“Oh my god!!! That’s so exciting!” he dances over and drops his food on the counter, which Mingyu picks up to polish off while he’s distracted. Hoshi wraps you in a bear hug you try to fight off and then you’re up and out of your chair being squeezed and swung around, “This is such great news!!!”

Thwap.

Hoshi blinks and you slide to the floor. When he touches the back of his head, it’s wet and he turns to find a rag on the ground. It takes less than two seconds to figure out who threw it because it’s Seungcheol’s thundering voice that calls out, “Put her down and get to work, asshole.”

“Asshole?” Hoshi mutters, kicking the rag, “I’m the asshole?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “Oh, he’s going to be unbearable,” he smacks your arm lightly, “Hey, do us all a favor. Take him back upstairs and tie him up or something would ya?”

“Inappropriate,” you snort just before big familiar arms wrap around you from behind.

“Morning baby,” he breathes against your hair before he’s planting a hot kiss on the side of your neck, “Sleep well?”

Everyone very quickly finds a way to mind their own business.

“Slept just fine,” you smile, turning your head to kiss him properly. “Now apologize to Hoshi, you beast.”

He sighs, dropping his head dramatically against your shoulder. “Hoshi!” he shouts across the way, “I’m sorry. Order breakfast for everyone on me.”

“All is forgiven, bro!” Hoshi salutes him in response and the others start gathering to make their requests. Food fixes almost anything in this house.

Cheol laughs and kisses your hair. “Happy?”

“Very,” you hum, turning in his arms, “Brought you coffee but it might be cold by now.”

“That was nice of you.” Now that you’re finally getting a good look at him you see he’s wearing the dark blue cargo pant, white tank top combo that drives you fucking insane. You’ll sit for literal hours on end just to watch him work on the cars in that exact outfit. Even better when he’s got oil smatterings here and there. The thick leather gloves he sometimes has hanging out of his back posket when not in use.

Mechanic Seungcheol is one of your favorite fantasies sprung to life.

“I wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of my own heart,” you retort, “I was trying to get something out of you in return.”

“Oh?” he smirks, “Like what?”

“Kiiiinda hoping I’d get you back upstairs for a few favors.”

His hands slide along your arms until he’s managed to bring them up and around his neck and then he’s got you caged in, clasping his own low on your back. “I’m sure we can make time for that,” he mumbles along the seam of your lips, brazenly, and very openly making out with you in the next breath like there aren’t several people in the garage along with you.

“MAKE IT QUICK. WE’VE GOT SHIT TO DO.”

Cheol tosses up a middle finger in Jeonghan’s general direction and shouts back, “Well, I’ve got your sister to do and that’s more important. Work can wait.” Your mouth pops open in amusement and he takes advantage of your distraction to hoist you up into his arms, making his way toward the stairs to his apartment again. When he speaks again, it’s only loud enough for you, “I think I’ve got just enough time to fuck you over the kitchen counter and make a fresh pot of coffee before I have to come back down, whoop your brother’s ass, and get back to work.”

“Your time management skills are-” you cling onto him a little tighter as he starts up the steps, “- very impressive.”

“You should see my oral presentation skills.”

With that in mind, you lean over his shoulder and shout down, “YOU CAN HAVE HIM BACK IN AN HOUR.”

“AN HOUR?!” Jeonghan hollers back, absolutely exasperated because he knows this is going to be an ongoing battle for months if not years on end. “WHAT PART OF WE GOT SHIT TO DO DID YOU TWO NOT UNDERSTAND?”

Cheol sighs and puts you down to open the door, hanging over the railing with a flat look on his face. “I’ll rip the transmission out of your car with my bare hands and toss it into the river if you open this door.”

Jeonghan scoffs but Cheol grins and cuts him off, “And then i’ll take the knife in your glovebox and split open every individual stitch in the interior.”

Those are serious fighting words between car guys. You think.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes and then huffs, hands on his hips. “You guys are the worst.”

Cheol blows your brother a kiss as you drag him inside and you can catch a hint of amusement on Jeonghan’s face just before you seal yourselves inside.

You’re okay with being the worst, so is Seungcheol.

Maybe being a couple of lowlifes isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Thanks for reading! 💖

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#svt fanfic #scoups fanfic #svthub #kvanity #seungcheol fanfic #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt smut #lana writes

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.

You pretended to be dead.

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly.

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.”

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.”

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it.

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?”

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.

Missions were rarely a failure.

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.”

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?”

“None. Just us.”

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.”

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it.

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation.

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.”

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in.

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight.

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why.

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden.

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions.

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them.

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch.

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you.

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.

This couldn’t continue.

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.”

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met.

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?”

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?”

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.”

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.

On the second week, it got easier.

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up...

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!”

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp.

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.”

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?”

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.”

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.”

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it.

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos.

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint.

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat.

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages.

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.”

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?”

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.”

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.”

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can��t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney.

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.”

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it.

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already.

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…”

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be.

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.”

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able.

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second.

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?”

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.”

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.”

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep.

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.”

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though.

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.”

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

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antiquarianfics · 1 year

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The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

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nightwngz · 10 months

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𝓢𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 ୨ ໋ ˳ ⊹ eng. . . !

superman, wonder woman and batman x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut drabble, gang bang, some sexual degradation, masturbation, oral sex, p in v. Diana!bisexual.

LANGUAGE: English is not my first language and I am still studying to master it. It makes me insecure to write by myself in another language, so I used the translator. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. The original version is here.

There was always something strange and unlikely about these three from the moment you met them.

They were all hiding secrets. According to you, hiding secrets was one of the most common parts of human nature. You were not interested in knowing what they were all hiding, but your curious mind was obsessed with knowing what the holy trinity of the Justice League was hiding beneath their sleek and sophisticated veneer of heroes; what no one would dare doubt or question.

The price of your curiosity was more costly than you could have ever imagined, a debt that would have to be repaid. Now you were part of this madness, and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't escape.

The good news was that you didn't want to.

You knew that the moment you felt the three of them completely, you were content to belong.

It was just hard to think of anything else when you found yourself tied to a chair, completely naked and unable to move while three pairs of blue eyes analyzed you.

The beautiful princess of Themyscira had no shame in digging into your sweet crotch. Her fingers slid across your sodden vaginal lips with a sound so vulgarly obscene that it caused you to inadvertently stir in your chair.

You looked intently at the two male figures as you tried to get as close to Diana as your body would allow so you could kiss her and feel her fingers go deeper inside you.

But before you could reach her lips, you were brutally pushed away by the man of steel, who had the clear intention of tasting your mouth first. Not that you were complaining; Clark's tongue was heavenly. It had a strange but hot connection to your lips, so it made you a mess right away. Who would have thought that Superman's ultimate power would be to soak his victims so easily?

Still, you didn't deserve them to be nice to you. On the contrary, you should be punished for insubordination. What you did was unforgivable.

In your defense, you didn't know that you were exclusive to the trio and couldn't sleep with other people. The rules weren't very clear when you met them, or when they started their no-strings-attached sex adventures.

Of course, you were not exclusive to anyone, and you planned to make that clear in the future. Right now, you were too busy cumming on Diana's fingers drilling your pussy that you didn't have enough time to think about anything else.

The adoration the Bat had for the way your pussy enveloped him so warmly brought out the most dominant and morbid part of his inner self. The sight of his cock moving in and out of your little hole at the same time your mouth was happily eating Clark's erection and your fingers were eating Diana's clit was enough to bring you to the verge of orgasm.

You gagged as the tip brushed against your uvula. You couldn't even concentrate enough because of how hard he was penetrating you. The pleasure was embracing.

— Look at our little slut. She can't even concentrate on sucking a good cock while she's being fucked. - Wayne commented. He kept going right into her sweet spot; faster and faster, more and more precise.

— She was too bad. Should we give her a prize though? She always takes us so well. - Kent continues, asking. You're beginning to control the rhythm of your mouth, although it's still a little difficult in some ways.

— Oh, Hera! - moans the princess of Themyscira. - That feels so good. - Her fingers can't resist trying to help themselves so she can come on your hand.

This is definitely the best part of the day, the one you enjoyed the most. And of course that was the guilty pleasure that came with keeping a secret. The secret the four of you shared.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne #batman #batman smut #batman x reader #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #superman #superman smut #superman x reader #wonder woman #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman smut #dc comics #dc universe #dc au

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minkyungseokie · 5 months

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第二章 | Moving and Meeting the Boss

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:39, T: 50), gxg, throuple, controversial age gaps, random German and Scottish pet names, topics of eating that aren't ED related, but might be triggering to some, DeepL translated languages. Untranslated Chinese, French, and other languages

note; okay! second chapter is now ready. I might start another series based on driver x reader x wag. I sort of rushed through this. I also changed a couple of things

She now contracted meningitis during her F2 days and that was the reason for her leaving, but she told people it was the lack of funds

There has something to do with eating, but it's not an ED

The eating thing is based off of a very adorable mukbang YouTuber named Tzuyang. I also never been to Monaco, so Idk how everything works

Realized she should have a last name since she's Felix's sister

note2; please give me requests for moodboards, blurbs, smaus, or anything else you want for this series. Or just request anything as long as you read my rules and how to request thing

fc; imleslie(Y/n), xavier serrano(Aaron Antognelli), blanca soler(Chiara Lorenzi)

Come Talk to Me

Driven by Destiny Masterlist | Previous | Next

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I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 10 more people to be tagged

Buckle up! This is a long one!!!!!!!!

(My god, Susie is so fucking pretty that I might actually cry)

In the now packed-up house, Y/n gazed around. "Are you all packed up?" Her brother asked as he crossed his arms next to her. Chan sighed, "I'm going to miss coming over to your house and hanging out," he said, looking around the house. With a soft smile that showed off her sharp teeth, Y/n looked at her brother, "He'll miss popping by my house during random times when the homeless orphans don't have work to do and mooching off me until he needs to go home to Korea." Y/n teased, pinching his freckled cheeks.

Chan giggled at Felix's expression and looked away, clearing his throat when Felix's glare turned to him. The long-haired male slapped his sister's hand away gently and tried to keep his scowl before giving up and breaking out into smiles as laughs filled the room. "For real though, I am going to miss you." Felix said, opening his arms for Y/n to enter, "Aw, I'm going to miss you too, but you can come visit me anytime you want in Monaco." Y/n offered, pulling back.

"You too, Channie. You and the rest of the derelict unparented are free to come visit me in Monaco when you want." Y/n said, opening her arms up to the shorter male. "Why does this feel like I'm sending my little sister off?" Chan asked, gladly accepting the hug that was offered, "You are basically family, mate." Felix assured, wrapping his arms around both his sister and his best friend. The group continued to hug until there was a loud honk heard in front of the house, "Well, I guess we should get this stuff into the truck." Y/n said, letting go of the two singers to grab one of the nearest boxes.

Y/n lugged the box to the truck where a mover stood, ready to grab the box from her hands and put it in the truck, "I'll take that, sir." The worker offered. Y/n froze and stared at the mover, "Excuse me?" Y/n asked, "Oh? Did I say something wrong?" The worker questioned, looking at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, "I am not a man. Please don't assume because I have masculine features." Y/n said, steeling her nerves. Y/n wasn't a confrontational person, but over the years, resentment had built up enough for her to tell someone off when they called her a man.

Her boobs were prominent enough for people to know that she wasn't a man and she was wearing a sports bra with flannel, how the hell did the man assume she was one as well? "I'm sorry, I didn't know--" "I think you did know, but it's whatever. Don't do it again." Y/n huffed, turning around and walking away.

Y/n entered the home again and grabbed a box aggressively, huffing dramatically. Felix and Chan shared looks before putting the boxes they had in their possession down, "Hey, what's wrong?" Chan questioned.

Y/n shook her head, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She sometimes felt like it was irrational of her to get so upset by someone assuming she was a man, but at the same time, anyone would get upset by being called the wrong gender.

Y/n squared her shoulders and picked up another box before turning to look at the two with a smile, "It's nothing, mate. Just a bit of an annoyance." Y/n then turned and walked out with the box in her hands.

The trio made their way back and forth until all the boxes were in the truck. Now, they stood on the lawn watching as the movers grabbed the furniture and loaded it onto the truck, "Y'know, we're actually going to miss you." Chan spoke up, continuing to watch the movers work. "I know. That's why I said you're free to visit me in Monaco. I'll also try to visit you and in Seoul whenever I can." Y/n assured, throwing her arms around each of the boy's shoulders and giving them an awkward side hug.

"We know. We'll try to visit when we can too." Felix said, laying his head on her arm with Changbin following suit, "We're done, ma'am. We'll be taking this to the sea freight now unless there is something else you need." The mover looked at the tall half-Asian with a pointed look, asking if there was anything she needed or if were they good.

"You're good to go. Thank you." Y/n said, nodding at the mover. The trio watched as the movers packed up and drove away, "What time do you leave?" Felix asked after a few moments of silence, "Three o'clock in the morning. Seeing as my insomnia is so bad that I can't fall asleep, I'll probably be up and out by two. Do you mind dropping my keys off at the realtor office safe drop box? I won't be able to do it since I leave at three." Y/n said.

"Yeah, we can do that. We'll be dropping you off anyway." Chan nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

"Yah, wake up. It's two." Felix hissed as if there were others in the house.

Y/n groaned and swatted Felix's hands away before turning onto her side and snuggling into the blankets, "Y/n, it's time to wake up." Chan said, joining Felix at the side of the hotel bed Y/n was sleeping in. The two put their hands on her and looked at each other, nodding before violently shaking Y/n back and forth.

"搞什么鬼?!" Y/n yelled in Chinese after being woken up so violently, turning to stare at her brothers with wide eyes, "Sorry, you wouldn't wake up, so we decided to shake you until you woke up." Chan snickered, signing as he spoke, looking away as Y/n glared at him and Felix.

Y/n sighed and threw the blankets off of her body, "Jesus, dude. You could've kept trying to wake me up gently." The dark-haired woman scowled, reaching over to grab the external part of her cochlear implant and the hearing aid for her other ear. Felix grabbed the hearing aid and helped her put it into her ear, "When are you getting your other cochlear?" Felix questioned, making sure the volume was on the level Y/n always kept it on.

"I get the second implant after I start my new job. I'll have to tell the boss about it as soon I do the interview. Especially since I forgot to tell her about my lack of hearing." Y/n mumbled, looking at Chan and Felix from the side since she knew that they would be giving her judgy looks.

Y/n turned to see that they were indeed giving her disappointed looks as if she wasn't taller than Chan, older than Felix, and more intimidating than the both of them combined. "Stop looking at me like that! I was trying to get the application in as fast as I could. I simply just...forgot to put it on my application." Y/n explained, looking down and scratching her cheek. When she looked back up, they were still looking at her with disappointment, "Stop looking at me like you're my parents and I just got caught smoking a fat one....or something cause I wouldn't know how they would look at me." Y/n quickly added the second part and gave the two boys a awkward smile.

Felix and Chan sighed in unison, "Okay, well, I guess we can't really be that upset with you since you'll be telling her face-to-face. Get up and get ready. Felix picked out some clothes for you to wear." Chan said, pointing to the end of the bed where some clothes were laid out for her, Y/n sighed, running a hand through her thick hair, "Okay, whatever. Please move out of the way."

Chan stepped back as Y/n swung her long legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the floor, grabbing the clothes and studying them before going to the bathroom to get changed while Felix and Chan checked to make sure that everything was properly packed. Y/n exited the bathroom wearing a pair of high waisted brown trousers, a white collared button down with a brown, beige and white sweater vest one top.

Y/n sat down on the bed and picked up the socks that were sitting on the bed, putting them on while Felix and Chan continued to talk, "Y/n, do you want to get some McDonald's on the way or something?" Felix asked.

"I just want a coffee and a bagel honestly. We can get something from the bagel shop nearby. I heard they have some good bagels and coffee." Y/n suggested, putting on her boots and grabbing the glasses that were on the nightstand next to the bed. "I'm down." Chan said, looking to Felix, "I'm okay with that." The blonde shrugged, grabbing Y/n's suitcase and pulling it out into the hallway.

Y/n stood up and looked around, making sure that she had left nothing on the ground

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡��... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Y/n turned and looked at her brother as she got ready to board the plane, "Okay, so you'll call when you've landed in Monaco, right?" Felix inquired, holding her wrists lightly. Y/n rolled her eyes and chuckled, "I promise that I'll call you as soon as I get to my new home in Monaco. Don't worry about me. Just make sure that you take care of yourself. All of you." Y/n gave a pointed look at Chan.

"What? Why'd you look at me like that?" Chan chuckled nervously, "I'm telling you to take care of yourself. You tend not to do that." Y/n joked, looking him in the side. Chan jumped away as if he was shocked and held his side, "No promises, but I'll try."

"Flight 35 A is now boarding."

Y/n looked over at where people were beginning to line up, "Alright, it seems I've got to go." The girl pointed behind her with a thumb. Felix pulled his sister into a hug and laid his head on her shoulder, "You better call me when you land. I'll fly to Monaco myself if you don't." He said voice muffled into her sweater vest.

"Okay, let go. I have to board." Y/n groaned, pushing the blonde away from her playfully, "See you, Y/n." Chan said, giving the girl a quick hug. Y/n grabbed her carry-on and boarded the plane, "Make sure the other Stray Animals are around when I call. I want to talk to all of you." Y/n spoke.

After a long flight, of which she slept through most, she hopped off the flight feeling groggy and completely disoriented. To be quite honest, she just wanted to go to sleep in a bed with thick blankets and the fan blasting on her face so she didn't overheat while sleeping. The thing was, she wouldn't be able to meet up with the person who sold her the house until the next day because the offices were closed and her stuff wouldn't arrive until the next day either, so she had to get a hotel for the night.

Y/n groaned as she rolled her neck, attempting to massage the stiffness out of her shoulder and neck as she entered the Uber, "Uh, Hôtel Fairmont Monte Carlo, s'il vous plaît." Y/n spoke in a tired and dull tone.

The driver nodded and pulled off. Y/n pulled out her phone and pressed on the contact of the one person she knew would be up. It was 9:41 PM in Monaco, which meant it was 4:41 AM in Seoul currently and there was one person she could guarantee would be up at that time.

Chan.

Y/n pulled out a pair of headphones with a large-diameter ear cup that completely encloses her ear and audio processor and put them on. Y/n looked out the window while the phone rang, "Hey! You're in Monaco, I'm guessing." Chan said as his face popped up on the screen. "Yeah, I'm in an Uber right now. I'm heading to the hotel." Y/n mumbled, mouth stretching into a little yawn.

"Oh, yeah. Your stuff isn't there yet, is it?" Chan asked, looking at something off to the side, "No, it'll be arriving tomorrow afternoon. I'll be contacting Mrs. Wolff tomorrow as well to schedule the interview. The jet lag was going to be a bitch." Y/n sighed, leaning against the window. "Yeah, it is. What time is it there?" Chan questioned, "It's, uh, 9:43 PM." Y/n answered, dragging her eyes away from the fogged-up window to the face on her phone.

"Have you eaten?" Chan questioned, "No, not yet. Have you?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I ate some ramen earlier. I'm just snacking on some honey butter chips right now." Chan responded, lifting the yellow bag to the screen.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by the driver, "Madame, nous sommes arrivés à votre destination."

Y/n looked out the window and saw they were indeed in front of the luxury hotel, "D'accord, merci, monsieur. Je vous souhaite une excellente soirée. Sorry, Chan. I have to go. Tell Lixie and the others to text me when they can." Y/n said, exiting the car.

"Okay, I will. Have a good night." Chan said, "Have a good day, mate." Y/n said before hanging up. Y/n pocketed her phone and grabbed her items from the trunk. She waved at the driver in thanks and made her way into the hotel. It was a random one that she picked out and it was probably way too luxurious for a one-night stay, but it was the closest to where her new home would be and she was way too tired to find an even cheaper hotel.

She checked in and paid for the room, trudging up the stairs in a slumped-over position. As soon as she found her room, she stood up and unlocked it as if she was being followed by someone and had to enter quickly. Y/n threw the door open and closed, dropping her bags where she stood before making her way to the bed and getting in

Y/n woke up the next day and immediately ordered an Uber. Her items would be arriving today and she already slept in pretty late. Y/n's dark brown eyes swept the room until they landed on the digital clock on the dresser. It was 2:52 PM. The truck with her stuff would be there around four and the realtor would be there around 3:00, so she had to get going pretty quickly. Luckily, her Uber was on its way and she would be at her new address in no time.

Honk!

Y/n's head snapped up once she had heard the honking of the horn. She could only assume that they were there for her and the chime from her phone telling her that her ride has arrived only confirmed her suspicion. Y/n quickly gathered her items and sped and walked out of the front of the building with her hand up in a wave to show that it was her who had ordered the Uber. Y/n pulled up the trunk after the driver had opened it from the inside of the car.

Y/n put her suitcase and carry-on bag into the trunk and closed it, rushing to get to the backseat and get into the car. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Monaco, La Condamine, 98000 Monaco, s'il vous plaît." Y/n said breathily, pulling her phone out of the bag she had and opening the notes app. Seeing as she would have to move all of her stuff in, of course with the help of the moving pros, and there were some other things she needed to do through the day, she decided that it would be a good idea to make a to-do list.

To do for today and tomorrow

Move my stuff into the house

Rearrange everything to my liking

Unpack everything

Go grocery shopping

Call Mrs. Wolff back

Y/n reread the list over and over to see if anything else came to mind, but when nothing did, she pocketed her phone again and stared out the window. Monaco was a truly gorgeous place and she could see herself living out the rest of her life in this beautiful country.

She could definitely see herself finding a man or woman, who would most definitely be an F1 fan seeing as the country basically lived and breathed F1, finding a much better home, settling down, and having a family.

It wasn't something she wanted anytime soon since she was still pretty young, but it was something she could see happening when she was ready.

Actually, now that Y/n thought about it, and as the car passed by the water, she doesn't think any house, which was actually one of those apartments where you have a whole floor to yourself, would be better than the one she got. It cost an arm and a leg to get and she would be able to afford it after she finally started the PA position.

The flat included three bedrooms, one bathroom, two shower rooms, one separate toilet and a kitchen. In total, it has four rooms. Two underground parking spaces provide space for any vehicles and a balcony that overlooked the water. It that high street, city center, bus station, and shopping center all within 500 m, so it was well situated.

Y/n sighed and closed her eyes. This was the start of her new life. While she was is Monaco, she was going to be a different person then what she was in Australia. Gone is the shy, antisocial, introverted girl that lived in Sydney and in is the girl who is still the same thing, but trying to be more confident.

"Pardonnez-moi, madame. Nous sommes arrivés." The driver announced, "Hm? Oh, merci beaucoup." Y/n thanked as she exited the car. She waited until the driver popped the trunk and then grabbed her things, "Merci encore, madame. J'espère que vous passerez une excellente soirée."

The driver gave Y/n a smile, "C'est très gentil de votre part. J'espère que vous passerez également une excellente soirée." She responded before driving off, giving Y/n a wave as she drove off.

"Miss Lee?" A voice with a thick accent called out from behind her. Y/n whirled around to face a tall man with dark, curly hair, a chisled jaw, and broad shoulders. It was the realtor, "Ah, Mr. Tomatis. How are you doing today?" Y/n greeted, looking to the side so she didn't make eye contact. "I am well. Listen, I would love to stay and talk with you, but I have an important showing to do, so here's your keys. Enjoy your new home." Mr. Tomatis gently place the keys into her hands before walking off.

"Oh-kay. Guess it's time to check out the new place in person." Y/n took a deep breath, trilling as she exhaled. The girl made her way into the building until she reached her floor. Y/n put the key into the door and unlocked it, "Home sweet home, I guess. Once I step through this door, my new life officially starts." Y/n mumbled, resting her forehead against the cool wood. Y/n opened the door and wheeled her suitcase in behind her, "Woah, this is sick!" Y/n awed, looking around her home.

She left the suitcase and carry-on near the entrance and walked around, looking through each room and mentally mapping what went into each room and how she would lay everything out.

Once she was done with her mental mapping, her hands fell to her sides and she looked around with a flat face and eyes dulled due to boredom.

She didn't know what to do now.

The truck wouldn't be there until four and it was only... Y/n looked down at the screen of her phone, which displayed the time in a large blue font...3:12.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Y/n's head. She had to schedule the interview and was advised to do so once she was settled down enough, but since she had time to waste, why not do it now? Y/n opened her contacts and pressed on Susie's, making sure it was on speaker, "Hello?" The sweet Irish voice that Y/n had heard last time, answered the phone.

"Uh, yes. It's Y/n Lee. I'm calling to set up my interview for the PA position." Y/n stammered, "Oh, Ms. Lee! I've been expecting your call back. I assume that means you're in Monaco?" Susie asked, "Yeah, uh, yes...ma'am." Y/n confirmed, nodding as of the woman on the other line could see her.

"Great, I know that you're going to need some time to settle down completely, so the interview will not be taking place any time this week. How about the next week around 10:00 AM? What day works for you?" Susie questioned, "I can do next week. How about Wednesday?" Y/n pulled out a pen and pad of paper to write down the date and time. "Wednesday works perfectly. Alright, I will e you then." Susie said.

"See you then." Y/n confirmed before pressing the 'end call' button. Just as Y/n put her phone on the counter, she got another call but this time from the company that had her stuff, telling her that they had arrived early and were ready to move her stuff in.

Y/n ran out the front door and down the stairs to see that they had indeed arrived earlier than planned and were already beginning to unload the lighter stuff, "Hey, I didn't expect you to be so early. Please, follow me and I'll show you where my apartment is." Y/n said, grabbing a box and leading the way to her floor.

After showing the movers where she was, Y/n went back down to grab another, but before she could make it too far, someone stopped her. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice you're moving in. Do you want some help?" A tall slender man with dark hair and dark eyes. The man in front of her was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome and Y/n was the definition of awkward around pretty people.

Y/n opened her mouth to decline, probably stutter through the sentence before falling too embarrassed to continue speaking, when another voice spoke up. "Babe, what are you doing? Who's this?" A woman who absolutely gorgeous saddeled herself next to the man, looking up at Y/n with a raised, perfectly sculpted, eyebrow. "I-uh..." Y/n's eyes darted around frantically, trying to find any way out of the situation.

She knew she said she was going to be a totally different person than she was in Australia, but she had the worst night of sleep where her body got too hot with the blankets, too cold with the fan, and still too hot with both. She also kept waking up randomly during the night, feeling dizzy and disoriented. She also may be up and doing things, but she was severely jet lagged and wanted to do nothing, but drop dead on the floor and sleep until she could physically no longer sleep.

Y/n was going to be quite honest, she could use the help and it would make things go a lot faster, but how was she, a socially awkward person, to talk to two very pretty people?

Answer; she didn't.

She walked past them with a quick 'excuse me' pretending like she didn't hear them. If they got upset with her, she'll just say her hearing aids weren't on or turned up enough for her to hear that they were speaking to her. "Wait! Ma'am, hold on." The man called out, following Y/n outside and grabbing her wrist gently, stopping her in her tracks. Y/n steeled herself and whirled around with a fake smile, "Oh, sorry. Can I, uh, can I help you?" Y/n asked, eyes darting between the man, who was giving her a smile, and the woman, who was scowling at her with her arms crossed.

"Yes, you can help us. My boyfriend asked you a question and you just walked past us as if you didn't hear. Are you deaf or something?" The girl sneered.

"Yes."

"Pa-pardon?" The girl asked, dropping her arms, Y/n turned her head to the side, showing the couple her cochlear and the the hearing aid, "I-I am in fact...deaf." Y/n muttered, turning to go get more boxes. Behind her she could hear the flustered man scolding his girlfriend while she stammered out flustered responses,

"How could you-?!"

"I..I didn't know, okay? Hop off my balls."

"Woman, what balls would I be hopping off of?"

"I... You... Just shut up! We should be helping anyway."

The two stopped their flustered play fighting as Y/n walked past. They both grabbed boxes and followed her, "Hey, we are so sorry." The man spoke up, speed walking so he was next to Y/n, "Especially me. I didn't know you were actually deaf and even if you weren't, I wasn't being the nicest. It's just, and this isn't an excuse, there have been some... how do I say this?" The girl asked, looking up.

"Issues." The man supplied, the woman snapped her fingers and pointed at her boyfriend before quickly putting her hand back under the box as it began to tip over in her hands, "Issues. We have had some issues with our last neighbours and it made me sort of defensive. Sorry about that. My name Chiara Lorenzi and this is my boyfriend..." Chiara trailed off so that he could speak for himself.

"Aaron Antognelli. And you are?" Aaron asked, depositing the box on the floor of Y/n's apartment, "Y/n Lee." Y/n answered. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I hope we get to become very good friends in the near future." Chiara said, nudging the taller girl as she and Aaron walked out to grab more boxes.

With the extra two sets of hands, Y/n and the movers were able to get everything inside quickly and it was a good thing too since the sky began to dark with thick rain clouds. "Um, thank you for your help." Y/n muttered, going into her house and beginning to close the door when a hand appeared between the door and the frame, keeping her from closing it fully, "Hold on there, kangaroo. Don't you want help unpacking?" Aaron asked.

"Oh, no. I couldn't ask for that. You have done quite a bit a-and I don't know you well enough." Y/n frantically shook her head. The couple shared a look before turning back to Y/n, "Please, we... I insist. We want to make up for the rocky way we greeted you. Of course, we won't force you to and if you don't want us to help you, we'll leave." Chiara said.

Y/n sighed and nodded, opening the door fully to let the couple in. She didn't know them or trust them, but she also needed all the help she could get. That, and she was shit at decorating, so it would be nice to enlist the help of someone else.

Chiara and Aaron looked around, "Why does your apartment look so much better than ours?" Aaron asked, "I thought they were all the same." Y/n said, looking at her spacious place. "Nah, yours has much more space, but it could be the fact that you're living alone that makes it seem that way." Aaron shrugged.

Chiara whirled around and clapped her hands together, "Alright, let's get this done."

With a yelp, Y/n fell out of her bed as the alarm she had set on her phone blared in her ear that contained the hearing aid. She had so much fun with Aaron and Chiara the previous night that she ended up going to be later than she usually liked to whenever she had something important to do the next day. After the day they helped her unpack, the two quickly became friends Y/n and they had been hanging out with each other ever since.

Y/n groaned and hobbled over to a cabinet near her bed where she kept her medicine, "Shit, getting drunk the day before my interview was not smart." Y/n grumbled, opening a bottle of pills and a bottle of water from her mini fridge.

Y/n gathered her clothing and put it on the end of the bed then went and took a scalding hot shower that helped her sober up. Y/n gave a quiet groan as she messaged her shoulders, "Man, my shoulders are stiff." She complained.

Stepping out of the shower, Y/n put on her outfit, which consisted of wool wide-leg pants, a skims t-shirt bodysuit, a nocturne cropped jacket, and a pair of heeled patchwork boots. Looking in the mirror, Y/n narrowed her eyes, "Hmm, wait." Y/n looked around to the clothes she had thrown everywhere when looking for a good outfit.

Her room was covered in an explosion of beige, brown, white, and black. There was not a lick of color in any of her wardrobe, save for her shoes, which were still not brightly colored, so they still fit her aesthetic. "I need to add some color to my wardrobe." Y/n muttered, before grabbing her things and making her way down to where the Uber was waiting for her.

She gave the driver the address of a café that Susie had suggested, Café de Paris, and off they went. Y/n's heart thudded so hard in her chest that she was pretty sure that the beat was coming from her stomach rather than her chest. Y/n ran a hand through her long, messy hair and tried to calm the nervous feeling in her stomach.

The driver looked at Y/n through the rear mirror and cleared his throat, "Nerveux? Vous avez un rendez-vous ou une raison de vous énerver?" He asked, causing Y/n to jump from the sudden addressing. "Euh, oui. J'ai un entretien très important. J'ai déjà obtenu le poste, mais je suis encore nerveux." Y/n answered shakily, wringing her hands together nervously.

The driver studied Y/n through the mirror before turning his eyes back to the road, "Eh, don't be nervous. It must be just a 'get to know you' interview." The driver said, switching to English and waving a hand to the side as if he was brushing Y/n's nervousness away.

"You're right. Merci, Monsieur." Y/n sighed, leaning back against the headrest. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Susie sat at a table in Café de Paris, occasionally looking at her watch as she waited for Y/n to arrive. Admittedly, she had arrived a bit too early, but she was excited. She had been looking forward to finally starting the F1 academy and with Y/n working by her side, she'd make these girls into Formula One champions.

Susie continued looking out the window for Y/n, even though she has no idea what Y/n looked like at all. Y/n walked through the door and approached Susie from behind, "Mrs. Wolff?" Y/n spoke up, causing the blonde woman to jump up. As soon as they were face-to-face, both women froze.

Now, Y/n was open about her sexuality and what she liked, but Susie wasn't. Susie had never been interested in women and she wasn't one who would ever fall in love when she already had a husband and a beautiful son, but Susie's heart raced looking at the younger woman and she couldn't understand why. Susie had no problem admitting when another woman is beautiful and the one in front of her? Well, she was drop dead gorgeous in Susie's eyes.

"Ah, Ms. Lee. You startled me." Susie chuckled, putting a hand on her chest to calm her racing heart. Whether it was racing because of Y/n's beauty or because she genuinely got startled, she didn't know. Either way, the woman in front of her made her heart race. "My apologies, Mrs. Wolff. I didn't mean to scare you." Y/n apologized, giving the older woman a shallow bow instinctively.

"Shall we sit and begin?" Susie asked, gesturing to the chair. Y/n nodded and sat down across from the older woman. "Okay, remember that you already have the job. This is just to get to know you a bit more. Do you want to order something or do you just want to start?" Susie questioned.

"I would like to order something." Y/n muttered, Susie gestured to someone and a waiter came over, "Are you ladies ready to order?" The waiter asked politely. "Yes, I would like a chocolate chaud and panna cotta parfumeé au citron." Susie told the waiter who wrote it down before turning to Y/n, "I would like Le Chou Profiterole and the Irish coffee. Please." Y/n said.

Once the waiter finished writing down their orders and left, Susie turned back to Y/n with a smile that made Y/n want to throw herself off a cliff. She was so pretty and Y/n didn't think Susie knew just how gorgeous she was.

"Okay, let's start while we're waiting for our orders. Can you tell me about yourself?" Susie questioned, "Oh okay, um... I'm Y/n Lee, I am half Chinese and Half Australian, I am 23 years old, I want to do modeling in my spare time, I like surfing and skiing, and I used to be a Formula Two driver before I contracted meningitis and had to stop." Y/n replied.

"You contracted meningitis?" Susie asked, "I did. I lost hearing in my right ear," Y/n turned her head and moved her hair, showing her cochlear, "I had to get a cochlear for my right ear and I have a hearing aid in my left because I'm losing my hearing in that ear. After I got my surgery, I just decided not to continue driving even though I would love to continue." Y/n shrugged.

Susie nodded, "If you had the chance, would you try and continue to drive in F2?" Susie questioned. Y/n sighed and looked around the café, "I honestly never thought about it. I wanted to but I didn't have enough money to continue, so I thought that my chances were over. If I had the chance to do it again, I don't know if I would take it. I'm turning 23 soon and I fell like I'm getting too old." Y/n said, looking up as the waiter arrived with their stuff.

"Thank you/Merci." Susie and Y/n said simultaneously. Y/n brought the glass mug up to her lips and took a sip of the drink. Y/n put the mug down and looked at Susie again, "What are your goals for the next five years?" Susie asked.

"Hmm, I think I still see myself working in the motorsports world or perhaps attempting to further my modeling career. Or both." Y/n answered, picking up one of the cream puff and taking a bite, refraining from making any sort of noise.

"Do you consider yourself a passionate person when it comes to this sport?" Susie inquired, Y/n nodded as she swallowed the pastry in her mouth, "I was..am...Before I got meningitis, I was obsessed with being a Formula One driver. I was about as passionate about it like most of the guys on the grid. It was my passion." Y/n explained.

Susie nodded and sat back in her chair, "That'll be all." She said, picking up her spoon and eating some of her panna cotta parfumeé au citron. Y/n paused halfway from the plate where she was reaching for another mini creampuff, "That's all?" She asked, "That's all." Susie reiterated

"Okay." Y/n nodded. She was honestly so unsure as to why she needed to do the interview when she was only going to be asked about four questions, "Now, let's get to know each other since we're going to be working closely together. My name is Suzanne Wolff, but you can call me Susie. I am Scottish, 39 years old, I have a wonderful husband who is the team principal of Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One team, and I have a gorgeous fiver-year-old son named Jack." Susie introduced herself.

The woman held out a hand for Y/n to shake, "It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Wolff. I look forward to working with you." Y/n said, grabbing the older woman's hand and shaking it firmly. Susie waved off her formalities, "Oh, please. Call me Susie. We'll be working close together, so we might as well drop the formalities." She chuckled.

The two women continued to talk about random topics, getting to know each other more and more. The two became quick friends and even made plans to hang outside of work sometime in the future and even talked about Y/n meeting her son and husband since she would have to meet them eventually.

By the time Y/n was in her Uber and on her way home, it was well into the afternoon and Y/n had a small permanent smile on her face as she thought about the older woman.

Y/n hated to admit it, but she tended to catch feelings for people quite easily. She didn't and never would believe in love at first sight, but she did believe that one can get to know someone well enough to gain some sort of feelings for someone.

And Y/n could tell that the bubbling feeling in her stomach was her feeling giddy and anxious. She was beginning to feel something for the older married woman, but she brushed it off. It was just a small puppy crush, and even if it wasn't, nothing would ever come of it. Susie was a heterosexual married woman with a family and if there was one thing Y/n could never be, it was a homewrecker.

Susie entered her home happily. Her husband and son greeting her at the entrance, "Hello, liebling. How was the interview? I can assume it went well since you're smiling from ear to ear." Toto said, kissing his wife on the forehead. "She's perfect, Toto. She is everything I wanted and more in a personal assistant. Not to mention she's absolutely gorgeous. If she were to go to a GP, people would assume she is some sort of supermodel WAG." Susie said absentmindedly.

Toto gave his wife an odd look as she bent down to greet their five-year-old. His wife was what some people would call a girl's girl and she definitely has complimented other women before, but the way she had talked about the woman she had met with made him feel curious. She had never sounded so infatuated with anyone other than him and Jack.

Of course, Toto knew that his wife was not going to cheat on him and especially not with another woman, but there was just a feeling in his gut that said there was something more than just a regular excitement to be getting the F1 Academy project off the ground.

"Yeah? Is that right?" Toto asked, "Yes. She used to be a F2 driver too, so she is the most perfect candidate for the job. I think you and Jackie would lover her." Susie said, kissing the top of Jack's head and carrying him into the kitchen.

Toto shook his head as he chuckled. He didn't know what the woman was like, but she must have been super amazing because she left such an impression on his wife that she was positively gushing about the new PA.

By the time Susie stopped talking about the new PA, Toto himself couldn't wait to meet her and he was now sharing the excitement that she was practically projecting off her in waves.

This was the start of something new and both Wolff's could tell.

↳ ❝ [Taglist] ¡!❞

@exotic-iris13 @alliwantisadonut @evie-119 @xoscar03 @cheyxfu @laur2608 @sunnylikesfrogs @goldenmoonbeam @victorharrington @only-nope

Unable to tag all of you

This one was over 6k words. I felt like I needed to give you guys this since I had been away for so long.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 9 more people to be tagged

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samiiy20 · 1 year

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♡ 𝑯𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒏 ♡

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Hyunjin x fem!reader 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑒: Smut 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 3.5k 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Age difference (keep in mind that they are both of legal age, but still with a notable difference), oral sex, unprotected sex. 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: You're in love with your art teacher, but you've never told anyone until he finds out.

N/A: I've had this idea in my head for a while and hadn't been able to express it, but I finally got it, I hope you like it. Not without first clarifying that this type of behavior is illegal and that I am not in favor of it.

N/A2: This is the first long work I've done in a long time, it took me a long time to do it so I hope you like it

Here is the link to pt.2

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

The music resonated in your head while your hands moved across the paper tracing confusing lines. You weren't passionate about art, but drawing from time to time kept your mind calm, although right now your thoughts were shrouded in a cloud of confusion.

Your hands had left the pencil and you looked at your creation, you cursed when you saw the result, but you still put it in your things and went to sleep to stop thinking, although you knew that in your dreams you would also see it.

You knew that today wouldn't be the best day since you woke up late, the weather was ruining your shoes and you had forgotten some things in the rush, but the only thing that could cheer you up was art class. You had signed up to fulfill something, but you discovered that you liked it more than you thought and not just the class.

When you entered class had already started so you ran to sit in one of the empty chairs at the back without looking at anyone. You took out your things excitedly, you put all your attention on what the teacher was saying.

"…art is more than simple lines and strokes, they express everything that each of you can think and feel…" his gaze met yours for a couple of seconds, but you felt as if he were going through your head and he could see through it. You avoided his eyes by looking down at where the hundreds of his drawings were.

You couldn't help it, since you entered the first day and looked at him you thought he was the most beautiful being your eyes could have ever seen, for a moment you thought he was just another student, so you were quite surprised to know that he would be your teacher. The passage of time only helped you torture your thoughts with images of him, his free hair, his bright eyes, his sweet smile, his relaxing voice, the curve of his neck, his hands on the pencils; Everything about him made you forget anything.

After a short lesson on some new types of strokes they started to work but you couldn't concentrate with him hovering and you could only feel the intensity of your thoughts between your legs, the excitement that stained the fabric of your panties just by imagining his hands on your body.

Although your thoughts tortured you, you tried to stay calm to continue drawing, but you couldn't concentrate, your strokes were unsure and misaligned, the sheet that was originally white was now dirty and messy.

"What's happening?" You were excited when you heard a voice behind you, but you didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Nothing, it's just… I don't know what to do."

"Mmmm… I don't think so" you turned to look at him but when your eyes met you went blank. He took the paper on your desk and looked at it carefully. "I think you're not listening to your mind, you're trying to capture something you don't want."

"I… I can't draw what I want."

"Why not? What's stopping you from doing it?"

You shook your head forgetting that thought and trying to get your work, but he pushed it away.

"You should draw what you feel," he touched your forehead with two of his fingers and you grunted when he pushed your head a little, "not what you force yourself to think."

He broke the paper he had and went to his desk, you sighed trying to get out all your frustration and ignoring the fact that his fingers had touched you even for a second.

You took out your own folder and looking to the sides in case anyone saw you carefully opened it revealing what you really wanted. Him. Each page of that folder was Hyunjin's things, his lips, his eyes,his face, his smile, his hands, his body; but you couldn't give it to him, he would be scared just by seeing it, so you tore off a blank sheet of paper and closed the folder, hiding it.

In the end you drew the rainy landscape of the window, you were satisfied with the result and you handed it to your teacher praying that he would not reject it. He took it and after a quick glance at the page he looked at you sighing, leaving it in the pile of drawings on his desk. You looked at the time and noticed that it was already too late for your class so you ran out with a too light weight in your backpack.

When classes ended you decided to stay a little while the rain cleared, but it didn't seem like it was going to end. You decided to go to the library to do some work and maybe get some sleep, when you were taking out your things you noticed that something was missing. Your folder of drawings, you started to get alarmed and panic. Without thinking twice you ran to the art classroom praying that no one had found it.

If someone saw what was inside they would realize the obsession you had with your teacher. You were almost crying just thinking about what could happen, the burning in your lungs not caring when you turned and saw the classroom.

You opened the door without knocking and noticed that there was no one except Hyunjin at his desk. He turned to look at you through the glasses on his nose and raised his eyebrow.

"What's happen?"

"…n…nothing… it's just that…" you stopped for a bit to take a breath and tried to continue "I forgot some things."

Before he told you to come in, you were already in the middle of the classroom looking for your folder on the desks. When you got to where you had sat, you felt like your soul left your body when you couldn't find anything. You began to go around each of the chairs in search of your folder but when you didn't see anything, the tears in your eyes accumulated.

"Are you looking for this?" Almost forgetting that Hyunjin was there, you looked at him holding your folder in his hands. You didn't know what was worse, losing it or him having it, but hoping he hadn't seen it, you nodded, trying to calm your trembling legs as you went to get it.

With every step you took you wanted the earth to swallow you more, but when you finally reached his desk the only thing you hoped was that he wouldn't say anything. He extended the folder and you took it without objection, feeling a little relief, but when you opened it slowly, making sure he didn't see anything, you were scared when you saw that all the pages were blank. You flipped through the pages trying to find the evidence that gave you away, but there was no trace of it.

"But where…??" you went through the entire folder without finding anything "this is not mine."

"I guess this isn't either?" He threw a pile of leaves on the piece of wood and you looked down finding all your drawings of him, you swallowed and dared to look at him "well?"

"I…that…isn't mine" your voice shook a little and when he sighed, lowering your head, you stayed still. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, getting up from his place. You felt small when you noticed the height difference but you were so afraid that you couldn't move from where you were.

He walked around the desk until he was in front of you, you couldn't lift your head and you only looked at his feet.

"So what were you looking for?"

"N…nothing."

"So that's not yours?" You denied looking at the floor, but you noticed how he moved his body a little closer to take the drawings "then I'll have to ask one by one who he is?" You stayed silent looking at the drawings he was holding, you mentally scolded yourself for having drawn them.

You heard a long sigh from him and then one of his hands grabbed your chin to lift your face. Your eyes went somewhere else away from his face and you were holding back the urge to breathe.

"Answer me, is that what you really want?"

You clenched your fists and dared to exchange glances, you were fighting to stay on your feet, to not breathe and calm your mind, but everything was too overwhelming. You felt vulnerable having him so close and feeling the warmth of his skin on you.

"You always try to hide/repress what you want, but what you don't know is that you're an open book" you kept your gaze steady but a blow to your stomach was present.

"I do not know what you are talking about…"

"You think I'm stupid?" His hand gently descended down your neck to your collarbones. "Do you think I don't feel your gaze all the time? Do you think I don't notice how your little body tenses when I talk to you or how your legs tighten when I get too close?" You closed your eyes trying to suppress the emotions in your chest, but his breath hit your neck and you felt like you couldn't hold your breath anymore.

"That is not true."

"Then why does your heart feel like it's going to burst out?" He pressed his lips to your skin beneath your collarbones and you finally let out all your pent-up air. “Your drawings reveal who you really are, they show what you want.”

Hyunjin withdrew a little, for a moment you felt relieved but on the other hand you thought about the possibilities of this happening again, everything you had been holding back was overflowing from that little kiss and you couldn't hold it back anymore. Before he went too far you grabbed his shirt and pressed your lips against it.

You sighed, letting yourself feel the emotions that tickled your body, while you melted into her lips. Everything around you stopped making sense and nothing mattered other than savoring his kisses, you didn't care that he was your teacher or that someone could come in and see them, or the only thing you could keep in your mind was the shape of his lips.

You were so dizzy from his kisses that you didn't realize the moment his hands ran down your body to your waist. They both immersed themselves in a deeper kiss, letting their tongues get to know each other. You allowed yourself to tangle your fingers in her hair while holding your breath, thinking that this way the moment would last forever. You tried to memorize each of his kisses, each of his caresses on your waist and before you knew it he withdrew, cutting off the moment.

For the first time you saw his eyes and your brain reacted to what just happened. You covered your lips and stepped back a little embarrassed, you thought about saying something but the words weren't enough for the regret you were starting to feel.

"I'm sorry…"

"No" you saw him approach again and he grabbed your chin making your body start to shake again "do you know how long I held back from doing that?" you denied automatically, analyzing his words "every time you looked at me like that it made me want to take you in front of everyone" his fingers contoured your lips and you opened your mouth instinctively to suck one "but now that I've tried a little I won't be able to stop until devour you."

His hand went down to your neck, cutting your breath a little and without noticing it, he made a soft moan from you. Hyunjin was fighting with himself not to lose control, but he couldn't take it anymore, he needed to take you on his desk or he would die.

His lips collided aggressively with yours and his hands grabbed the hem of your shirt to remove it. You let yourself be carried away by the sensations and you let him kiss your collarbones and massage your breasts while you covered your mouth so as not to moan. His kisses trailed down to your abdomen and he paused a little to unbutton your pants, but you didn't let him do it because you wanted to do something first.

You took courage and held his face to stop him, you kissed him while your hands explored the material of his shirt as you undid his buttons. You reached his pants and without stopping to think you unbuttoned them, feeling his trapped erection. Your kisses traced a path across her chest and you heard how she let out small sighs while she realized where you wanted to go.

When you were on your knees in front of his still wrapped cock you looked up at him only to smile at him as you pulled down her boxers. He caressed your head in approval and you watched the tip of him dripping, savoring the flavor, you moved closer to paint your lips with his essence. Hyunjin moaned when he saw the intentions in your eyes and grabbed your hair so you could open your mouth once and for all.

You began to introduce his member little by little, trying to get used to it, but he didn't give you time and began to move his hips, making everything go into your mouth. You had imagined this for a long time and didn't believe it was happening, but the sensations in your wet core let you know it wasn't a dream.

You held his thighs with your nails but you enjoyed the mere way he moved and since he was still in control, you looked up recording the expression on his face. His eyebrows furrowed, his mouth open releasing curses and his eyes locked on yours at all times.

"You like this right?" He stopped and let you breathe a little. You nodded still with his member in your mouth "is this what you had in that little head?" You sucked on his member in response and he moaned in response. He pulled your hair back, leaving only the tip on your tongue to see how it painted. You savored what he gave you and moaned as you felt the tension in your core. You squeezed your legs together looking for some friction and Hyunjin noticed.

He lifted you up and cleaned your mouth, he imprisoned you in the middle of the desk and his body at the same time that his hands reached your clothed center. You squirmed a little when you noticed him but his movements were slow.

"Tell me what else have you imagined?" He whispered into your neck, leaving the mark of his teeth.

"I…only you."

"Tell me the truth" another bite on your skin made you squeal "I will fulfill each and every one of your fantasies pretty girl, you just have to tell me."

You pursed your lips trying to remember something, but his teeth and his caresses on your center were stealing all your attention and you couldn't concentrate.

"I…imagined that…you were fucking me on your desk, that you were holding my hands while you kissed my back."

With quick movements he made you stand in front of his desk with your back to him. He kisses your neck, getting rid of your bra and all your clothes, leaving you completely naked. You felt his cock on your butt as he came over to bend you over his desk while he grabbed your hands behind your waist. You couldn't help but moan when you realized how you were, you opened your eyes only to realize that you were on top of all the drawings you had made, each and every one of them represented your fantasies, but now they were coming true.

You were about to say something, when his fingers touched your sensitive pussy, drowning out your words. Your legs closed instinctively but he interrupted you by placing his own in the middle. He began to massage your clit and you arched your back a little trying to release the sensations in your chest. He was torturing you by going very slowly, but he just wanted to tease you and make you say your name.

His fingers explored your entire core and then he introduced two of them, making you let out a louder moan that echoed throughout the room. You couldn't move much because of the restrictions on your body but that somehow made you feel better. Notice how you could only accept the excitement and nothing else, but that was starting to go on for too long and made you desperate trying to let go to find release.

Hyunjin was more ready to end this, but he was turned on by the way that no matter how much you struggled, you couldn't do anything but moan, but no matter how much he could continue torturing you for hours, he knew that they weren't in the right place to do it.

He removed his fingers from inside you and lined up his cock to replace it. Without letting go of your hands behind your back, he engraved the silhouette of your body on the papers and since it had been stained a little by the charcoal, you were a work of art in his eyes and now that he had you in front of him, he would use your skin as his canvas and his kisses and caresses would be his brush, he would make clear what his mark was.

He introduced his member slowly, feeling how you squeezed him and recording the sound of your voice in his mind. He leaned over your back to have a better position and started to move, he moved your hair back to kiss you and mark your neck. Your moans were better up close, so he quickened his pace to hear you.

Feeling the heat of his body on yours made you lose your mind, his kisses on your back and the movement of his hips colliding with yours made you pray that it would never end, but your body couldn't take it anymore. You noticed how your legs were shaking, your hands were clenching, your insides were tightening more and more and how your stomach was contracting.

Your head was spinning and you couldn't handle all the emotions, it wasn't working properly having your teacher fucking you like you had always imagined, it was all too much and your moans were just the proof of it all.

"Come on pretty girl, I know you're close," you heard Hyunjin say as he increased the pace even more, "let me feel you."

His words seemed to be what was missing for you to release everything you could no longer contain. You felt your body tense for a moment and in a second you sighed, letting yourself be carried away by the release in your center. You moaned his name over and over again as he continued hitting your insides seeking his own release and a few seconds later you only noticed the hot liquid spilling down your legs.

He withdrew a little to free your hands and lay on your back again, leaving kisses and caressing your hair.

"You have done very well, now you can rest."

You closed your eyes processing everything that had just happened, but before you finished you felt the absence of heat. You were dazed and tired but you stood up slowly thinking about the consequences. When you turned around you found Hyunjin with a tissue in his hand, without saying anything he approached you and helped you clean yourself. Still a little sensitive, you held onto his shoulders but without looking at his face.

They didn't say a word while they were getting dressed and before taking your things he finally spoke.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” you hung your head, knowing he was right.

"I know, it's my fault," you said, releasing the burden you had been carrying for some time now, "but I couldn't help but fall in love and now I involved you in this, I understand if you don't want to see me again, I will drop out of class and I promise that You will never see me again, it was all my fault.

"what are you taking about?" Hyunjin grabbed you by the waist and you stayed still when you had him so close again. "You don't even know what I feel, why do you assume that I don't want to see you again?"

"But…"

"Shhh, we'll talk about that later, okay?" A little dazed and excited, you nodded, looking away from him. "Why don't we go home? I think I'll have to teach you to look at my face when I talk to you."

You smiled nervously as you hugged him, letting this moment remain in your memory to capture later.

Here is the link to pt.2

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x you #stray kids fanfic #skz hyunjin #kpop imagines #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids imagines #kpop smut

454 notes · View notes

psychhound · 8 months

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d&d 5e languages and gender

i know this is already a very nerdy blog but please indulge me a moment,,

for my homegame i've been fleshing out how different languages in the game deal with gender / pronouns based on their cultures (some of them are canon languages but some are for our setting) and it made the little nerd in me very happy so i wanted to make some headcanons for the rest of the dnd languages and share it for anyone who'd like to steal / take inspo

feel absolutely free to use these in homegames but if you use for anything streamed or for your own ttrpg/homebrew/fics then crediting/linking back is appreciated :o)

disclaimer: this blog is run by a genderqueer trans man and any queerphobic interaction will immediately be blocked

common

common started off with the standard he, she, & they pronouns but simply Loves a good loanword and so its not uncommon to hear people using pronouns from other languages in otherwise entirely common dialogue. there is some Fighting about whether this is appropriative based on the individuals culture or whether its unfair to people who only speak common to keep up with them all

dwarvish

not too much variety in what most people would consider pronouns, it tends to be more one singular neutral pronoun for someone you don't know / don't know well, and then variations that are more like honorifics than anything else. their pronoun might translate more readily to "skilled with a hammer" than anything regarding a gender

elvish

lots of pronoun options that explore different presentations of gender but they are also age/experience locked. a feminine male elf would use different pronouns as a child, teen, young adult, young adult with job, middle age, middle aged with children, etc. using pronouns from a different life experience bracket from you is incredibly frowned upon and people just dont do it

giant

there is one pronoun for giants & kin and one pronoun for not giants and the one for not giants is not derogatory at all, its just used to differentiate who is part of the family or not (individuals adopted by giants tend to use the giant pronoun)

gnomish

LOTS of variation in pronouns. gnomes love inventing new pronouns. there are general grammatical rules that they follow to Signify that its a pronoun but hearing three new pronouns a day is like. not uncommon. lots of gnomish teens go through a phase of making up at least four new pronouns they want to go by. uncommon to only go by one set. typically introduced along with your name

(more under the cut)

goblin

no gendered pronouns, all pronouns are instead structured around relations between individuals. so one person would use brother pronoun with one person, son pronoun with another, best friend pronoun to another. the family pronouns are not locked to actual family, just what the relationship is like. if you don't know someone well, its "cousin", "niece/nephew", "auntie/uncle", or "grandparent" depending on their age

halfling

pronouns are split between public and private use. in general in the community or with outsiders, there's a single pronoun that translates loosely to "friend". actual individual pronouns are only known to and used with close friends and family. there's a small handful of them and only some of them have gendered connotations

orc

there are only four categories of pronouns: masculine, feminine, both/mixed, and neither. but there's a decent amount of variations because there are varying levels of formality for each of them. there are ways to conjugate them so they're more formal and respectful, but also lots of diminutives to make them more affectionate and closely-bonded

abyssal

no use of pronouns. lots of very specific derogatory terms that are used in place of them. i shant elaborate.

celestial

lots of variations in pronouns. they are not very closely tied to gender, but are tied to very specific aesthetics. instead of having individual pronoun words, in celestial you just use root words. so one person might use the root word for things that are soft and gentle and natural for their pronoun, while another person might use the root word for things associated with dark and murky and mysterious things for theirs. tend to be tied to domains

draconic

no use of pronouns, only names and titles. if you happen to share a name with another individual who speaks draconic, you would need a unique title to go after it. the full name and full title is said at every reference of someone

deep speech

deep speech has pronouns probably but hearing them for any individual you dont share a close identity group with makes you violently nauseous and then the word immediately leaves your mind so it's just really hard to learn them

infernal

there are words for "you", "me", "us", "we", "this one", "that one", "those ones" etc but no classic pronouns as far as individual usage goes. if someone really needs to be specific they would use whatever pronoun that individual uses in their native language. tieflings have introduced a Lot of neopronouns into infernal but theyre all borrowed from other languages and then reworked into infernal grammar and tend to be localized to communities

primordial

individuals are referred to their elemental type (or "none") rather than pronouns tied to gender. so it would be more like "the windy one" or "the rocky one" than anything like he or she

sylvan

no standard gendered pronouns, it's entirely nounself. so basically infinite amount of pronouns that are easily understood by anyone familiar with that noun. so you would have things like pebble pronoun, teapot pronoun, sword pronoun, with some general affiliations with presentation but less so with gender

undercommon

pronouns are based on level of respect and not gender, but there are also pronouns specifically used for children. like craftsmen would typically all use the same pronoun unless one was incredibly successful and respected, or had a very bad reputation, etc. there are pronouns used only for royalty and pronouns used only for deities

speak with animals

when translated into common, tends to just be translated as the animal's bio sex, but it can go a little screwy when speaking about creatures who have biological sexes so outside the humanoid concept of sex and gender that even magic dont fuckin know how to translate it. kind of just makes a weird bubbly noise in its place

if you read this far thank you thank you and if you end up using these in your campaign lore or fics i would love to know :o)

#5e homebrew #dnd 5e #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd lore

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eetherealgoddess · 8 months

Text

ꨄThe Visitꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦When Y/n makes an impulsive decision to take a trip to Japan, a trip to the wrong room causes her to catch the wrong attention❦

Sano Manjiro, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Red phrases are Japanese

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

The Visit

Y/n’s journey to Japan was based on an impulsive decision. Wanting to bask in the differing culture compared to America, she decided to take a small break, her plan to only stay for a couple weeks. Unfortunately, her friends, too busy with work and stable living, couldn’t join her sudden trip across the world. Y/n currently works on her own accord, a delivering app where she makes her own schedule. A lot more freeing compared to a job where she’d have to make decisions two to three weeks in advance.

Sure, she’s no doctor or business owner but she still makes enough to afford her living and to take spontaneous outings, becoming bored easily from the day to day routine of driving and delivering all day. After all, she can even work on her vacations, though she’d prefer not to. When she was younger, she had a hard time doing things on her own so as an adult, she’s gained her own sense of independence. Using the phrase, YOLO, as an excuse to go out on her own and make things happen without waiting for others to join. Her personal challenge in life. Which is why she decided to go to a popular night club, all on her own.

Flashing lights beam as the loud music bursts through the speakers, causing the building to vibrate occasionally, chattering and laughing mixing in with the frequency. A euphoric feeling for someone in search of a good time. She walks through crowds of people after she passes the security, slightly shoving her way, light “Excuse me,” and “Sorry,” as she squeezes past the dancing mass. Obviously, nobody hears her apologies as they close their eyes and grind against the nearest person. Finally, she makes her way to the bar, the bartenders tending to the customers with smiles on their faces, conversing and flirting with the newcomers.

She takes a seat on the stool, ignoring the awkwardness of feeling out of place in an unknown world. Most of the conversations surrounding her are misunderstood, as she only knows a few Japanese words. She knows she should’ve studied more, though the anticipation caused her impatience, determining that if needed, she’ll use the web’s translator, no matter how embarrassing it’ll feel. For a second, she zones out in her own world, palm on her cheek as she leans her head, elbow plastered to the table.

“What can I get for you?”

She responds with a fruity alcohol mix, dropping her hand to the table as she watches the bartender make her drink. Once finished, he slides it to her as she hands him her payment. She sips it down fast, emptying the glass within seconds, wanting to free herself from the anxiety that fills her body, calming her thoughts as the alcohol persuades her to get out of her comfort zone. Ordering another after another, she’s finally out of her shell enough to think about hitting the dance floor, after all the crowd should cover her terrible dance moves.

After her fifth drink, she feels great, on top of the world even. Without the weakness of anxious thoughts and tense posture, she takes a selfie to send to her groupchat, her friends responding with likes and support. She smiles to herself, vision slightly shifty as she hops off her seat, shoving her phone in her purse as she walks through the crowd to a good spot.

Considering how lively she is, others fall in line, dancing near or on as everyone hypes everyone up, the music and alcohol causing everyone to lose themselves in the motion of the dance floor. The girl takes a couple photos and videos of all the different people she meets as they laugh and share the moment with each other. Some take photos and videos as well, showing off their night. Time passes as the drinks keep pouring.

Finally, the liquid reaches her bladder, causing her to stumble through the group, walking towards the bar as she searches for the nearest bathroom. Unfortunately, it takes her a while to walk around in frustration, sighing as she sees a staircase towards the balcony. Using the rail as support, she stalks up the stairs, walking until she reaches the balcony. She walks past the people as she makes her way down the hall.

“Damnit, I’m about to piss myself.” She hisses as she continues to look around, no sign of any bathrooms near.

Out of curiosity, she stops near a door where talking could be heard, though nothing she could understand besides the few words she could make out. She rolls her eyes.

“Hopefully, there’s a bathroom in here, or else I’m peeing wherever.” She mutters, chuckling as she turns the knob. When she opens the door, she’s greeted with an empty space with lounge chairs and dimmed lights, pink and red being the main color scheme of the room. The voices are louder as she walks into the room.

Maybe that’s the bathroom.

She shrugs as she walks forward, closing in on the door, the voices raising. Her eyebrows furrow at the language, caught off guard by some of the words being shouted.

“Mikey, please! I just need m-more time!”

A loud thud could be heard followed by a ‘Shut up!’ Y/n continued to listen as the concerning sounds became more apparent. She attempts to make out the words, to no avail, but she could tell that someone is begging, considering the word, ‘please.’

“Please! My wife and kids, th-they need me! God, I’ll do anything!”

“What the fuck?” She whispers. The event behind the door causes her to forget about her full bladder, which feels as though all fluid has disappeared on its own. One of her hands places itself on the door as she leans closer, becoming more intrigued as she attempts to decipher more words. Coming up with a plan, she grabs her phone and searches the web for translation. She presses the button to record and sets the phone as close to the door as she can.

“Boss, do you want me to finish this rat?”

After reading the translation, her breath hitches, eyes widening as she quickly deletes the phrase and sets the phone back in place. The hairs on her body stand as the fear sobers her enough to focus. She’s in disbelief to what she is hearing, yet she can’t find the will to move as curiosity brings her closer to demise.

Silence falls for a moment besides the pitiful man’s sobbing, weighing on her heart as she feels sorrow for what could happen, still unknown to any experiences like this. After what feels like forever, she decides to press the power button of her device and stick it back in her purse.

“NO!”

BANG!

She stops for a second, eyebrows furrowed as she stops breathing. She stares at the door in disbelief. Her hands trembling as her legs barely keep her up, causing her to lean against the wall near the door. Her heartbeat accelerates as her head begins to pound, the ringing in her ears indicating that fear is taking a toll. Before she could take another step, another three gunshots ring, echoing from the room.

“N-no fucking way.” She says to herself, turning on her heel to run out of the room.

“Shit!” She hisses as she runs into a plant, the vase shattering as she falls on the floor. Scrambling to pick herself up she quickly runs out of the room, sweat dripping from her forehead as she breathes heavily, ignoring the sound of the door behind her slamming open.

As she runs down the stairs, she pushes through anyone in the way without any apologies, too scared of getting caught snooping she rushes past the dance floor. She shrieks as shots rang through, causing everyone in the club to scatter and scream. More chaos ensues as she shoves her way to the exit. Some people could be seen falling as they’re trampled by the gathering, too many people trying to leave at the same time. The guards try to help as much as they can while the staff hides behind the bar, some in the rooms as well.

The shots continue as she's pushed against the stools, knocking them over as she stops herself from falling. She continues on, finally reaching the exit. When she makes it outside, she runs down the sidewalk, others bringing attention from the outside as well as they mimic her movements. Police sirens could be heard in the distance as she continued to run.

Breathing heavily, the pain in her stomach forms as well as the tensity in her legs, though she ignores it with the will to live another day. As she runs, she misses the black car passing by, tinted windows covering the group of men sitting in the seats.

“Another successful night of ridding ourselves of another rat, yeah?”

A tall man with short lilac hair takes a sip of his glass, leg crossed over the other as his free arm lies on the top of the seat. Lazy eyes with a side smile on his face as he eyes the men in the car.

“Successful, indeed brother. Too bad the night ended early.”

The man, sitting next to the other guy, positioned in the same way with the opposite leg, says while lighting a cigarette, the driver pressing a button to crack the windows. His hair, lilac as well, but shaped to be a mullet smirks as he pulls the smoke into his mouth, settling it before blowing out.

The two men sitting across from the brothers sit quietly as dark eyes stare out of the window, the platinum hair swaying as the wind blows through the cracks.

“I should’ve tortured him more, the disgusting scum deserved every shot for betraying my king.”

The pinkette growled, his icy blue eyes glaring into space as he imagined doing the worst to the man, violent acts playing in his head. His fingers tingle, an effect from the substances in his system, excitement causing him to smirk as he leans his head back against the seat.

“Kakucho.”

The ride became silent as their boss spoke to the driver.

“Yes, boss?”

“Look into Y/n, L/n.”

The dark eyed pale man eyes the card in his hand as he analyzes the picture and information. Finding the photo id in the lounge room, he realizes that she must’ve been the one to shatter that vase, indicating she must’ve been there during their conversation. If not, it’s good to get a hold on her, just in case.

“Yes, boss.”

“Yeah, it was fucking crazy!” Y/n says as she kicks her shoes off, locking the door behind her as she walks to the bedroom, phone against her ear.

“Is everything okay now? Are you safe?” Her closest friend says on the other line.

“I think so, Leila. I got away and nobody has followed me here so I think I’m good. I just can’t believe I witnessed something like that.” She responds, breathing out a sigh as she sets the phone on speaker, setting it on the bed as she grabs a t-shirt and shorts.

“Me neither. You probably shouldn’t go clubbing for a minute.” Leila suggests, worry evident in her voice. After Y/n is dressed, she grabs her phone and walks to the bathroom.

“Maybe, but I didn’t come here to not party. I’m sure it was just that side of town or something.” She says as she grabs a makeup wipe, starting with rubbing her eyeliner and mascara off before moving to her cheeks and forehead.

“There’s other things to do, plus you don’t know how things are fully run over there. You really know little to nothing about the area you’re in so you don’t know how consistent it is and neither do I.”

She moisturizes her face after using water to wash off any residue. She grabs her phone and pulls it to her mouth.

“I understand that, which is why I’m gonna explore some more places tomorrow, but I’m probably going to go clubbing again. Just not at that one.” She says, leaning on her leg as she places a hand on her hip.

“Okay. Just be careful, especially since you’re alone up there. I have to go back to work, so I’ll text you.”

“Alright, see ya.”

Y/n ends the call, grabbing her toothbrush and brushing her teeth. After she spits, she uses mouthwash and rinses. After her process, she grabs her phone and walks to the kitchen, chugging a glass of water before walking to the bedroom.

When she gets in bed, she pulls up a reading app as she lies in a fetal position. As she pulls up a story she saved, her eyes follow the lines until they become heavy - lidded, blurry vision overcoming until the darkness finally engulfs her.

When she wakes up, she lies for a moment before grabbing her phone and checking her notifications. She yawns, stretching and hopping from the bed, completing her morning routine as well as a shower before getting dressed in simple attire. As she walks out of her door, she cautiously looks at her surroundings, eyeing the people walking on this fine morning. In need of a picker upper, she strolls down the sidewalk, heading towards the nearest cafe, hands in pockets as she walks through the breeze.

After she walks in, she orders her drink and takes a seat in a nearby booth, intrigued by the screen of her phone as she takes sips occasionally. A figure distracts her vision, sitting in front of her, causing her to shift her gaze. She eyes the mystery man who sits in a suit, furrowing her brows as she gazes over the attractive guy. He gives her a lazy smile, greeting her and introducing himself.

“You can call me Y/n. Do I know you?” She asks curiously. She knows that she has no clue who this guy is, but asked anyway, wondering why he decided to sit at her table.

“No, we don't know each other. You’re a lovely woman, and I’d like to get to know you more.” He responds, his smooth voice adding to his demeanor. She raises a brow.

He proceeds to tell her about a club he owns, inviting her to attend that night.

“I’ll think about it.” She states, giving a polite smile as she thanks him. He nods, standing up from his chair as he walks out of the cafe.

She messages her friend about the invitation from the attractive man excitedly.

Once the evening roars, she finishes the final touches of her makeup. Finally, finished with her process, she grabs her purse, making her way out of the hotel. She rides to her destination, making it to the packed nightclub she was invited to.

Security allowed her in when she said her name, as Ran told her to skip the line earlier and the guards will understand. That didn’t help the slight anxiety she felt from the angry people waiting in the long line. Shaking it off, she walks past security, to the bar that is right outside the dance floor. She looks around the crowd of people, searching for the familiar man, confused as to where he could be. She grabs her phone when she feels a buzz through her purse.

***-***-**** : come upstairs ♡︎

She chuckles at the heart, guessing it was Ran. Though, she doesn’t remember ever giving her phone number to home, nor vice versa. She shrugs, walking up the staircase until she reaches the blocked off balcony, the guards moving the rope to allow her in.

“Ooh fancy.” She states.

Before she could take another step, she was grabbed roughly from behind, pulled into a chest as a cloth covered her muffled screams. She fails at keeping her eyes open, drifting into the darkness.

She awakens, a dim light revealing her to be cuffed to a chair within a warehouse, causing her to struggle against the restraints as tears threaten to fall.

“No, no, no!” She sobs, frustrated with her circumstances. “Fuck!” She hisses.

“Nobody gave you permission to speak.”

Her head shoots up, meeting with four intimidating individuals, one familiar guy she had just met.

Damnit! I’m so stupid. This has to be those people from the other night with that man! They’re gonna kill me!

The pink haired man with a sadistic look of amusement on his face walked forward until he reached the side of her, gun in hand. Lifting it, he raises the barrel of the weapon to her temple, causing her body to tremble as she attempts to comprehend the situation, eyes widening at the man who sat in the middle of the standing twins. His dark eyes boring into hers.

She watches the man pull out a card from his pocket, turning it over to face her; she recognizes her photo id, unable to believe her unfortunate mistake.

“Y/n, I don’t like to waste time. What did you hear?”

“Nothing! I was just looking for the bathroom.”

She grimaces as the platinum haired man narrows his eyes, piercing through her. He flicks his hand.

“Sanzu.”

Said man nods, pulling the gun back and back, handing her with his other hand, her face forced to face the side. She shrieks a curse from the sudden pain.

“Boss doesn’t like liars, Y/n.” The man with the purple mullet states, smirking at her reaction with his hands placed in his pockets.

“Rin, don’t make fun of the poor girl, she’s already having a hard time.” Ran mockingly states, smiling with one hand in his pocket as he takes a hit of his cigarette.

Y/n grits her teeth, embarrassment and anger filling her mood as she glares at both men. The sense of dread already taking over, she becomes reckless with her words considering she’ll die anyway.

“Fuck you, and fuck you!” She growls, breathing deeply as she tries to keep herself calm enough to prevent an anxiety attack. Everyone’s eyes widen, excitement taking over at her behavior, the pale man’s posture slightly straightening as he becomes intrigued. Another harsh smack forces her to scream as she’s roughly gripped by the chin and turned to face the man known as Sanzu.

“Know your place in the face of the king. Watch your mouth.” He glares at her, releasing her as he replaces the gun on her head. She sucks her teeth to prevent herself from speaking anymore, though the glare doesn’t leave her face as humiliation rises by the amused expressions on the brothers’ faces.

“Answer my question.” Mikey states.

“All I heard was gunshots when I was leaving. I just wanted to find the bathroom, that’s it! I’m just visiting!” She exclaimed, ignoring the throbbing sensation of her bruised cheek.

The room goes quiet besides her deep breathing. She furrows her brows at everyone’s dead stare, wondering if she said something wrong considering the silence. She looks around in concern, shifting her gaze around sporadically.

“Hm, do whatever you want.” The boss waves his hand as he leans back into his seat, still criss - crossed as the other men’s smirks grow.

“W-what do you mean? What are you going to do?” She exclaims, terror causing her to pull harshly against the restraints. She shifts in her seat as they get closer, Sanzu using a key to undo the cuffs. Before she could take the opportunity to flee, she’s grabbed by the arm and roughly pulled out of the seat by the man known as Rin, forcing her to her knees, causing bruises to form as the pain of the cold floor aches.

His hands still on her shoulders in a tight grip that causes tension, while Ran places himself standing in front of her. He unbuckles his pants as he pulls out his length from his underwear, giving his infamous smile as he lazily eyes her form.

“Alright princess, no biting, alright? I think you already know what’ll happen so open up.” He uses his thumb to force her mouth agape, her blocking by moving her head away from the veiny girth. Her eyes widen at the pulsating member in front of her face, tears falling as she tries to push herself away, only to be forced back into place by his brother who moves one of his hands off her shoulder and places it at the nape of her neck and head, pushing her forward. He crouches to get a good angle on her.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Sanzu says, placing the barrel of the gun on her head. “Don’t even try it.”

She glares through her tears at both men that she could see and barely opens her mouth. Ran pushes his throbbing erection through her lips, a slight groan escaping his mouth as he slowly forces her to reach his base, causing her to gag. Rin helps by adding force to her neck, holding her in place once more.

“Good. S’ fucking good.” He breathes as he pulls his hips back and pushes all the way in once more. A mixture of precum and saliva dripped from her mouth, falling down her jaw as well as salty tears. Humiliation is the only emotion to decipher as she closes her eyes to escape as much as she could from this reality. A pinch on her nose forces her eyes open as he accelerates.

“Keep those eyes open, Y/n.” Sanzu hisses. The other hand placed on her shoulder disappears as it reaches around her neck.

“We might be nicer if you’re good.” Rin whispers as he squeezes his hand around her neck. She struggles against her pinched nose and neck squeeze as her breathing is blocked. Ran’s thrusts become sloppier as he moans, his hand on top of her head and the other on her ear and cheek as he pulls back and forth.

“I’m so close.”

Mikey watches as the events play out. Despite the bored look on his face, he couldn’t help but be turned on by how she looks as she lacks air while being fucked from the mouth. His erection reflects against the bulge in his pants, slight sweat forming beneath his sweater as his eyes bore into the scene before him.

Y/n’s face, shifting colors as she struggles against the hold, vision weakening as black dots begin to engulf her. Noticing the limping of her body, the two men release her nose and neck, allowing her to breathe through her nose as Ran releases into her throat, ropes of cum shooting as he grunts.

She coughs and takes deep violent breaths when she’s released, makeup smeared as her outfit clings to her body from sweat.

“Let me fucking go! There’s no reason for this! I won’t tell anyone just stop.” She sobs angrily. They ignore her as she’s forced on her back. Sanzu forces her legs open as Rin climbs on top of her. Ran slips his pants on before he sits right above her head as he faces her from above, pulling her wrists up as he grips them, smirking as his brother places himself in front of her, crouching over her breasts.

When she gasps from the wet muscle licking her clit, Rin takes the opportunity to shove his dick all the way to the back of her aching throat.

“Shit!” He hissed as he bottoms out. Moaning with his head pulled back, he grips her head, thrusting in and out at a faster pace than how his brother started. She twitches and shifts as Sanzu sucks her clit thoroughly, flicking his tongue whenever deemed fit. He slightly moans as he licks up her juices, his tongue moving up and down as it makes contact with her bud. His hands grip her thighs tightly, nails leaving indents as he pulls her in more, eyes closed.

Rin’s hair sways as he thrusts in her mouth. Wet sounds filling the room as the cum and saliva mix while he uses her face as a fleshlight. Her body couldn’t help to react to the stimulation of her clit, to her disapproval. She also didn’t want to orgasm considering it would enable them whether they believe she truly wants this or not. In order to speed the process, she sucks his cock to bring more tension, causing him to become sloppier.

“Yes! Like that, good fucking girl.” He breathes as his eyes roll into the back of his head, thrusting harder as he gets closer to release. Everyone’s erections twitch when she unconsciously releases a moan, to her humiliation.

Just hurry up and cum so I can leave! Please!

“Dirty girl, you like this, huh?” Ran teases, as his brother’s moans become louder. Sanzu grips tighter as he rubs his erection through his pants. Mikey grips himself through his pants, enjoying the pain of his own arousal as he watches his men take advantage of this woman. His face keeps his same expression, slowly rubbing against himself as he applies pressure.

Her hands turned to fists as Sanzu used a finger to push inside of her, angling it to gain more twitches from her body. Her hips buck when he adds another, strategically pulling in and out of her vagina. His tongue flicks against her clit repeatedly, suckling as he thrusts his hand.

I don’t care if my body is reacting. I want them to stop! This is humiliating!

Tears fall as Rin finally releases into her mouth, cum shooting out as he fills her throat. She orgasms right after as Sanzu assaulted her core. Rin removes himself as Sanzu and Ran pull back. She breathes heavily as she tries to gain strength in her weakened body, still trembling from the violent acts. She freezes when she sees their boss stand up. Her eyes widen as she picks herself up and sits up, not long before Mikey motions for Sanzu to lie on the floor. The short man shoves her over the pink haired man, her face meeting his amused expression.

She’s forced to hold herself up as the brothers stood up and took the chairs her and mikey used, sitting themselves down as the anticipation of what was to come caused them to grip their erections.

When she realized what was happening, she attempted to push herself out of their grips, to no avail.

“No, please! I’ve never done anal before and I don’t want to, please! Don’t make me do this!” She sobs. Her breath hitches when Mikey shushes her from behind. As Mikey grabs her hips, Sanzu eases her down on his cock, gripping her back so she won’t pull back. She shrieks from the force, slight pain blocked from wetness yet her anxiety makes it hard for her to fully open, causing him to bully his way in.

She cries as he adjusts himself, gripping her head as he rubs her back, causing shivers to run down her spine. The brothers watch with smirks, groaning quietly as they begin to rub their own cocks. Mikey wets his finger before slowly shoving it into her anus, causing her to flinch in pain and legs to tremble. Sanzu pulls her down to lie fully on his chest as Mikey uses his other hand to push her back down, aiming for a better angle as he adds another finger.

Sanzu groans as her walls tighten around his cock, shoving it deeper as he holds it in place, head falling back as he breathes heavily. She whimpers in his ear as she tries to hold back a moan from the head hitting her cervix. It presses causing pressure as it’s still inside her, twitching occasionally as he waits for Mikey to enter.

Finally, Mikey adjusts his head to her hole after wetting his cock, shoving it inside as he ignores her cry of pain. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out, both men groaning as they rub against each other through the lining causing extra pressure. She grunts in pain and stimulation as her body trembles. She breathes heavily in Sanzu’s ear unconsciously bringing him more pleasure as he feels the hot air against his ear, her lips barely touching his neck.

“Oh fuck, M-Mikey, can I please move?”

Forgetting his king’s title in the midst of intense pleasure, the Haitani brothers chuckle as they continue their motions.

“Yes.” He breathes as he pulls back, gripping her shoulders as he leans over, thrusting deeply as well as slowly. Long strokes as he repeats the process. Sanzu syncing with him as he hits her g-spot repeatedly, pressing against with his own long strokes.

Her eyes snap shut, tightly, as she grips Sanzu’s shoulders. Tears fall on his neck as she begins to cry. Both men’s jaws hang slightly ajar as they accelerate their speed, one going in as the other goes out. The sound of all their juices mixing as her holes drip with moisture.

Their hips snap as they become sloppy with their movements, syncing once more as they thrust inside of her roughly. All four men’s moans filled the room blocking her whimpers and cries as she sobbed for them to stop. The Haitani’s eyed the sight intently, faces bare of any smiles with nothing but undeniable pleasure as their hands bring them closer to release.

Thank god I’m on birth control.

Their grips become tighter as well as their thrusts until finally with one long but hard stroke, they both cum deeply inside her, pressing themselves inside her walls as they hold in place, the pressure causing her orgasm to crash violently, as well as the Haitani brother’s who rubbed themselves until ropes of cum shot out on their clothes.

After a while of everyone’s rugged breathing echoing through the air, Ran began to let out a light - hearted laugh.

“Awe princess, look at the mess you made! This is my favorite suit.” He smiles.

“Slutty girl, all worn out when you made us do all of the work.” Rin taunts.

Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she allows the darkness to take over, closing her eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

Waking up, she eyes the ceiling in confusion. She sits up, eyeing the unfamiliar room as the memories from before she passed out recollected. Her eyes widen as she dashes from the bed, falling back when her ankle is held by something cold against the bed’s bottom post.

She yanks the covers and eyes the cuffed ankle.

“No! No, no, no!” She cries, the feeling of being violated and stripped of her freedom all taking a toll as she reaches for her head. Finally feeling the cold breeze, she eyes her naked body, feeling shame as she uses the comforter to cover herself.

She looks up as the door clicks open, an unfamiliar male walking in with his white hair to the side.

“Hello, Y/n. I’m here to inform you that your stay in Japan has been prolonged.”

#bonten x reader #tokyo rev x reader #yandere x reader #haitani brothers #sanzu haruchiyo #sano mikey manjiro #rin haitani #ran haitani #yandere #ran x reader #rin x reader #sanzu x reader #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #tokyo revengers #bonten #tokyo rev smut #yandere tokyo revengers

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jtl-fics · 1 year

Text

Fluent Freshman - Part 07

The thing about Nicky knowing that FF knows Russian and therefore understands every single excruciatingly sweet, ear-reddingly spicy, or shockingly mundane thing that Andrew and Neil say to one another is that he is objectively the 3rd worst person to know this secret.

First place is, of course, Andrew Minyard the man who has now asked him about his family 3 times in the last week and a half. FF doesn’t really care if Andrew goes after the majority of his ‘family’ since it’s just his step brothers and step dad but Andrew might go after his Grandma too so he just says “We don’t talk” every time it comes up and deletes his entire chat history with his grandma that way Andrew won’t know how close they are. If that means that Andrew thinks that no one would look for him if he happened to disappear into a shallow grave FF doesn’t know. He’s already doomed so the least he can do is save his gran.

Second place is, of course, Captain Neil. Captain has mentioned quite a few times that a lot of people stay with friends or people they’re close with over Thanksgiving break. It’s meaner than Captain Neil usually would be off of the Court reminding FF that he has friends but none close enough who would want to spend a holiday with him. He plans to go see his Gran for Thanksgiving and she plans to feed him a truly ridiculous amount of food. It’s the same plan he’s had pretty much every year since he was 13.

Third place is Nicky Hemmick. Nicky is a very nice guy who got him a paperboy to hyperventilate into a couple times and would absolutely never intentionally OUT somebody and compromise their safety! Nicky’s talked with FF about some of his background so FF has full confidence that it’s never going to be something that Nicky intentionally outs to anyone. But there are two main reasons why Nicky is the third worst person to find out about this secret.

The first reason is that Nicky Hemmick just unabashedly loves gossip. FF has heard that with the graduation of the girls the previous year had gone Allison Reynolds who had multiple running bets on multiple teammates and a whole cache of gossip. Now Nicky has access to the ultimate accidental gossip magnet in the man who no one notices, who knows any language the Foxes speak and is too awkward to get up and leave when they start talking.

Nicky will never tell another soul his secret but he also HAS to know what Neil and Andrew are saying to one another and when Nicky lies to cover for him the charge is one free conversation translation.

He’s absolutely hooked on getting translations the since the first time he had asked what Andrew and Neil are hissing at one another one morning practice.

FF translated it awkwardly feeling like a creep and like he’s invading their privacy but Nicky had helped him eat the four slavic letter flashcards he had made up to help a friend study the language when Captain Neil and Andrew had come back early from a weekend alone in Columbia.

Nicky had even assured him afterwards that the ink was probably non-toxic and given him floss so he could get the flashcard wedged between his molars out.

So….

“Andrew’s mad that Captain Neil skipped breakfast because they’re working to make him eat something for every meal. Captain Neil’s mad because Andrew’s the one that kept him in bed so long that he didn’t have time to make anything.”

Nicky squeals in delight

The second reason, which is just compounded by the first, is the fact that Nicky had promised not to tell another Soul. However Nicky Hemmick, the romantic that he is, believes that he and his Fiancé Erik share one soul since they are soulmates. Therefore Nicky Hemmic had barely even registered FF’s tears of gratitude before he was calling Erik to tell him about FF.

The sheer number of close calls that have happened because Nicky HAS to tell Erik about something Andrew and Neil said to one another or something someone else is saying is the reason FF started getting ulcers.

Watching Nicky talk to Erik about him knowing Russian is like watching a member of the three stooges walk through a construction site blindfolded. FF nearly kills himself stopping Nicky from outing him numerous times and at the end Nicky’s smiling, unscathed and unaware of the sheer number of close calls he had sauntered through.

FF can’t wait to go home and bury his face in his grandma’s lap, stress eat two apple pies, and tell her about how he thinks he might just become an electrician or a plumber or an underwater welder because one of his language professors wants him to come and speak to a lower level class (a gen-ed with over a hundred people in it) about the usefulness of LATIN for all their majors since they can parse the meaning via root word and he had panicked and said ’Sure’.

***

The thing about being the only person on the team that knows that FF speaks Russian and is riddled with social anxiety is that it’s absolutely hilarious most of the time.

Every once in a while he has to step in to help the guy.

So sometimes he’ll eat flashcards. Sometimes he’ll distract his cousin with a salacious comment so FF can escape a dangerous conversation with his drunk friend. Sometimes he pushes FF to go talk to Abby about his tummy troubles. Sometimes he’ll hand over one of the brown paper bags he keeps in his backpack nowadays so FF can wheeze into it and sometimes he’ll assure his cousin that FF’s passing out after he offered to teach him how to use a knife was probably because of his stomach ulcers not because FF is terrified of Andrew stabbing him.

Nicky is the only member of the Foxes that FF regularly seeks out on his own to hang out with and Nicky just loves how hard Andrew and Neil are trying not to be jealous about it.

“I want to ask Smith if he wants to come spend Thanksgiving Break with us.” Andrew says out of the blue a week before the aforementioned break when it’s just Aaron, Neil, Nicky and himself in Nicky’s dorm room.

Nicky thinks about FF talking about going back to his hometown in Washington State and how he waxed poetic about spending Thanksgiving Break with his Grandma and how he was going to eat his weight in pie and Macaroni and Cheese.

“He’s planning on going and seeing his grandma. He won’t shut up about it.” Nicky says still glad that FF has a family member like his grandma.

Everyone else in the room look at him.

“He won’t shut up about it?” Aaron asks with an eyebrow raised. Aaron likes FF just fine and appreciates how FF has helped Katelyn start to grasp the fundamentals of the German language so quickly so she can understand what’s being said. “So what he said it twice?” He continues.

Nicky remembers FF’s ability for catastrophizing every conversation with the Foxes into one where it comes out that he speaks Russian and Andrew stabs him. As far as the other Foxes are concerned he’s a man of few words.

“He’s been talking about it all month. If I hear about his grandma’s apple pie recipe one more time I might demand he sneak a slice back for me through TSA.” Nicky loves stoking the flames, especially when the fire is harmless. He watches Aaron shrug and the skin around both Neil and Andrew’s mouths tightens. “You can ask him, the worst he can say is No.” Nicky shrugs.

Nicky is there when Andrew does ask him and he can see the prolonged internal scream of terror on the utterly blank face (or maybe he just imagines it.) and in a way Nicky is a little sad when FF shakes his head and says “No, I have plans with my Grandma.” In an utterly blank voice that means he has functionally blue-screened before turning and walking towards the nearest door so he can reboot in solitude.

“The offer stands if you change your mind.” Neil says and Nicky is impressed with the seemingly very casual thumbs up FF gives as he power walks away.

A little less than a week later Nicky finds Andrew next to FF and FF looking down at a cancelled flight notification after coming in from a truly monumental storm.

Andrew offers Thanksgiving in Columbia again.

Nicky tries to stop it from happening he can see that FF is a little lost in his disappointment over not being able to see his grandma and not thinking clearly but before he can snap him out of it.

“Sure.”

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242

#Fluent Freshman AU #Andrew internally: I was able to help out someone. Bee's gonna be proud.#FF: HE WAITED UNTIL I WAS AT MY WEAKEST TO ENSNARE ME. I'M GOING TO WAKE UP IN A REVERSE BEAR TRAP.#FF spends the next 12 hours watching Saw movies to prepare himself mentally on escaping from any and all torture devices #Nicky: Can't you just reschedule your flight?#FF: No it was the only day she could borrow a car to pick me up from the airport #FF: Any other day my step fam would find out that I was back in the state :(#Nicky not fully up to date on the Step situation: And that's bad?#FF: And that's bad.#FF: Please cremate me so that my granny doesn't have to see my mangled remains #FF: Give her my ashes and let her know my last thoughts were of her.#Nicky: I really gotta find you a girlfriend.#Fluent Freshman #Nicky Hemmick #Andrew Minyard #Neil Josten #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG Shitpost #AFTG OC #AFTG Fic #My Fics #FF - Pt. 07

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mouse-of-dimitrescu · 10 months

Text

𝟷𝟸 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 🎄 #𝟽 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ( 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚐𝚊𝚢𝚢𝚜 )

The Dripping Prayer ( TW NSFW )

I DONT WANT ANYONE TRIGGERED OR ANYTHING BY READING THIS ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: mentions of religion, chapel-based, semi-public sex, TW for religiously traumatised babes, lesbian sex, mentions of confessions, guilt, being a pariah, finger-fucking, eating out, rainstorm.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

You stood in the chapel. It was a Tuesday and the afternoon was due for arainstorm. You sat on the wooden bench in the front and twiddled your thumbs. You didn't know why you were sitting in the chapel or twiddling your thumbs like some depressed old man about to be executed for murdering his ex wife. Nevermind. Your thoughts rambled on until you heard loud footsteps coming from behind you. You turned to see your next door neighbour, Jane Murdstone walk through the arched doorway, boldly looking around and eventually turning her glance towards you.

" Miss Murdstone." You greeted, standing up and looking back at her.

She approached you. Her footsteps never failing to produce a sound of daunting rhythm. " Good afternoon, what brings you here?" She asked, taking off her gloves and hat. You smiled, watching her actions.

" Shelter from the storm. I'd like to say but I don't really know.

Jane nodded and looked at you up and down for a brief moment. " A storm? I hope not. I walked here."

" As did I." You nodded and sat back down. Surprisingly, Jane took a seat next to you and you both gazed at the stained glass. Just then, the rain began pouring down and you let out a small groan. " There it is." You chuckled.

" Well, we wil have to stay here until the storm passes. Where is the priest? I actually came to have a word with him." Jane said, looking around.

" Oh, he went out just as I walked in. He had business to attend to I think."

" What business?" Jane looked to you.

You shrugged. " I don't know. What did you want to speak to him about?" You asked, sitting up properly in your seat.

" Just a few confessions. I'm burdened by then and I need his assistance." Jane explained shortly, not caring to look at you as she spoke. You nodded silently, not wanting to pry.

Jane turned to you eventually. " Have you ever...felt something that you shouldn't have felt?" She asked, her voice sounding a bit colder than usual.

You frowned in confusion. " What do you mean?"

Jane sighed. " You probably haven't. But I wish to know if you've ever felt some...form of...lust for another being. Maybe even love for someone you are forbidden to love?" Jane searched your eyes, feeling a bit anxious.

You nodded silently and looked at Jane. Of course you had experienced love and attraction that was forbidden by society and the church. You wouldn't dare to admit it until now.

" Like a woman?" Jane whispered, making you nod again. " Have you ever repented?" She asked.

" I don't know how love can be frowned upon. I'm not sorry for loving someone. I don't know how love can be a sin." You responded calmly and adamantly. Jane looked at you and have you a small smile.

" You don't think I need to confess?" She asked, her pinkie finger gently grazing over your hand in a secret language — an intimate motion that you initially tried to ignore.

" Confess for what? Loving? Experiencing attraction?" You asked. Jane nodded with understanding and held your hand.

" Thank you." She whispered. " It feels forbidden to speak of these matters in a church or even hold your hand but I find myself careless right now." Jane admitted, looking down and eventually looking back up into your eyes.

Your eyes met hers and like a secret prayer — her emotions translated with yours. " No one is here... we're alone until the storm dies down." You squeezed Jane's hand.

Jane nodded in response and brought her free hand up to your cheek, caressing it. " May I?" She asked, her voice barely audible. The storm outside was blocking some of the syllables in her words.

" Yes, Jane. Yes." You whispered and inched closer towards Jane. Her hand escaped yours and made its way to your waist as she leant closer towards you. Her lips touched your own extremely lightly, a bit hesitant. But you matched her yearning with a mutual kiss — your heart felt like crying. Tears escaped your eyes and you held onto Jane. It was like you were being lifted by something. Like flight — a relief from the unfixed — an end to silence and that longing was met with a single flutter.

When you pulled away from the kiss, Jane leant your forehead against yours and you both smiled breathlessley, shutting your eyes and holding her hands in yours.

" Thank you." You mived your head back a bit so you could look at Jane properly. She brought your hand up to her lips and kissed it, eventually leaning her cheek in your palm as she began kissing up your arm. You gasped when Jane's lips met your exposed neck. Her warm breath sending echoing goosebumps throughout your body. You tilted your head back further to give Jane better access and she happily nibbled on your sweet spot.

" Oh...Jane." you moaned softly. " Jane you're making me feel." The confession fell from your lips like a honey-dipped verse. Jane smiled against your soft skin and kissed your jawline.

" Feel what? A certain need reserved for solitude?" She ran a hand over your thigh. You gasped and nodded, looking into Jane's eyes which were usually cold — instead of coldness, they had a sparkly to them and your body quivered slightly.

You wrapped your arms around Jane's neck and kissed her deeply again. " Jane..." You whispered against her lips.

" Yes darling?" Her one hand trailed your dress up your legs. " Oh you're so pretty." She looked down, admiring your legs and thighs. Jane's arm wrapped around your waist and you leant back into her. Your back leaning against her chest as you slouched. You moved your legs so you were lying on the wooden bench, your knees bent and your head and upped body propped up on that hard wooden bench. Jane smiled and watched your dress fall down your legs, folding into little pools at your waist, revealing more skin.

" Jane...I need you." You admitted, looking up at her.

Jane admired you for a moment before kissing your cheek. Her slender fingers found the waistband of your knickers. You gasped as Jane slipped her hand underneath the lace fabric. You gripped onto Jane's dress, the material scrunched up in your grasp as you tried to focus and compose yourself.

Jane hummed in approval when she felt your arousal coating her fingertips. She ran two fingers through your folds, parting them to have better access to your glistening entrance. Your body jerked at the friction.

" Oh darling, you're so deprived." Jane teased, swirling her middle finger around your throbbing clit. Jane grasped onto your thigh with her free hand, spreading your legs a bit more for her as she dipped a single finger into your pussy, making you moan out.

" Oh..." You had never felt this way before. Jane circled her middle finger inside you, exploring your walls. It was as though your mind had gone blank and the only person that crowded your thoughts was Jane.

She continued her actions and began moving her finger in and out of your tight hole, making your hips buck up at the sensation.

" You're so tight and wet around my finger, darling." Jane whispered against your neck and your moans grew even louder at her words.

" Please Jane...another finger!" You moaned out, feeling Jane's palm brush against your sensitive clit with each movement.

Jane slowly added another finger, watching you moan and pant in pleasure. You gasped at the slight stretch and released a strangled groan of Jane's name. Jane smiled down at you and started to pick up the pace, her fingers curling up and eventually finding your g-spot with each thrust.

" Jane! Oh... Jane...." Your voice trailed off as you moaned. You felt Jane lube up the third finger and slowly slide it inside of you, making you groan and writhe under her touch. Withdrawing her fingers and thrusting into you with a sudden urgency, your eyes rolled back and you leant your body even more into Jane's chest. With every thrust, you felt Jane's fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you and your legs began to shake. Your body herking against Jane as her movements began to speed up. Loud moans echoed throughout the chapel, remaining unheard because of the roaring, tempestuous thunder.

" You going to cum?" Jane asked, her voice low and husky. You groaned, becoming even more and more turned on due to her tone. You nodded quickly and Jane smirked.

" Cum for me." Jane said. The lightning synced with your cries and you came hard for Jane. it was like flying and falling at the same time. You looked up at Jane as your orgasm began to wear off and she leant down to kiss you softly, her fingers still moving in and out of your cunt.

" That was lovely." You whispered against Jane's lips. Jane smiled and withdrew her fingers, humming in approval as she licked up your mess. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight.

" I quite agree." Jane chuckled and held you close to her, you looked up at Jane with a small smile.

" Can I pleasure you too?" You asked softly.

Jane nodded and wrapped her fingers gently around your neck, meeting your lips again in a yearnful kiss. " Kneel for me." She whispered, making your breath hitch.

You immediately knelt down in front of Jane. She gently lifted her dress , hiking it up her long legs, spreading them for you. You bit your lip and teaced your fingers over Jane's thighs, peppering sweet little kisses upwards, reaching her clothed cunt, the fabric damp with her arousal. You brought your hand up and played with her over her knickers. Jane moaned as you accidentally circled her clit and you smiled at her reaction. You took her knickers off, sliding them down her legs, eventually stuffing them in her purse. Jane smirked and adjusted her dress, making it easier for you to reach between her legs.

You experimentally licked a slit up her folds and her sweet arousal triggered your taste buds. You planted a kiss on her pussy and two of your fingers parted her folds. You licked circles around Jane's sensitive bud, hearing her moan out as she gripped your hair, pulling you loser to her, needing more friction.

" Oh...darling." she groaned when she felt your finger explore her slick entrance before pushing inside of her. " Add two more." She commanded, tugging harder at your hair. You happily obeyed Jane, adding two more digits, feeling her hot walls tighten around them. Jane let out satisfied moans and you groaned when she pulled at your hair. In response, you grasped onto Jane's thighs and spread them further apart.

You pumped your fingers in and out of Jane while your tongue continued to stimulate her clit, making Jane release guttural moans as your increasing speed. The light rain pattered against the surfaces outside — like a clock, making the pleasure more urgent.

Jane and you were getting more and more turned on, knowing that someone could burst through that arched door at any moment. The two of you would immediately be dealt with by authority and society — forced to apologise for something you weren't sorry for. You couldn't give a damn about that. All that mattered was Jane.

Jane moaned louder when you curled your fingers up inside of her, her walls fluttered around your digits and you sucked harshly on her swollen clit. Jane's legs began to tremble at your sides, her thighs pressing hard against your head, trapping you in. It was obviously a happy moment for you.

" Oh! Darling...faster! I think I might..." Jane couldn't finish her sentence. The pleasure was overwhelming. You sped up your pace, thrusting your fingers and curling them inside of Jane as you did before while she flung her head back. Jane gazed upon the stained glass — her eyes slightly unfocused, the golden halos in front of her were a blur as she came hard, crying out your name like a sacred prayer. Separated syllables interrupted by moans and untamed breaths.

Jane's slick covered your fingers. You began to slow down your pace, letting Jane ride out her orgasm. Her breaths were still heavy and when you let go of her cunt and slipped your fingers out of her, some of her cum creeped down her thighs. You eagerly licked it up, making Jane chuckle as she looked down at you. Your lips were puffy and half your face was covered in her cum.

" My word, you're a mess, darling." Jane took her small black bag and shuffled through it, withdrawing a handkerchief and leaning down to wipe your face. " You did so well. Your mouth works wonders." She kissed your cheek and you smiled up at her.

You eventually pulled Jane's dress back down like normal, readjusting it before standing up and dusting off your knees. You sat next to Jane and rested your head on her shoulder, she wiped your fingers clean for you.

" May I have my knickers back, darling?" She asked, holding out her hand, expecting you to give them back.

" No, I'm keeping them. Thank you." You laughed, not missing the small blush on Jane's cheeks.

Jane let out a small sigh and couldn't help but laugh. " You're so naughty." Jane wrapped her arms around your waist and gave you a soft kiss. You deepened the kiss and smiled against her lips.

" We should do this again sometime." You mumbled.

" I agree, maybe we could use the confession box for extra privacy?" Jane suggested, her tone darkening with lust at the thought of it.

You laughed and nodded. " That could be arranged." You kissed Jane's cheek and she held your hand. The storm outside began to subside, the pouring rain began to diminish into a slight drizzle.

" We should get going." Jane whispered with a hint of sadness in her tone.

" Come around to my house whenever you'd like." You sat up properly and looked at Jane. you both eventually stood up and she nodded.

" Of course I will. " Jane gave you one soft kiss — that was the only minute you wished for an eternity.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

#jane murdstone #gwendoline christie #jane murdstone x reader #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems

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spotsandsocks · 5 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @tizniz @diazsdimples @wikiangela @hippolotamus @bi-buckrights @exhuastedpigeon Thank you lovelies 💖

How many works do you have on ao3?

89 that’s not too shabby is it. Three years of writing this summer.

What's your total ao3 word count?

902,255 that is quite a few words isn’t it.

What fandoms do you write for?

911

Top five fics by kudos:

If You Break It 3.2k Chris overhears a something and gets upset, then he tells Buck who gets upset too.

They say the Truth will set you free 2.3K Buck get a dose of something at work and gets emotional and chatty

Could Have Should Have Would Have 3.2k an unexpected“I love you” but it’s too late. Isn’t it?

Just Ask 1.7K Eddie's having thoughts, he wants to touch. Buck's ok with that, all Eddie has to do is ask.

Looking from the outside 2.4K TWhat happens when everyone you meet thinks you’re married to your perfectly platonic best friend. Most of these are quite old now, I think I’ve written some just as good or even better but fics don’t seem to get as much kudos these days

Do you respond to comments?

yes everyone is really important to me

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

No fics really end angsty round here but this one’s pretty emotional along the way.

Alone With Your Thoughts Buck gets very badly hurt (for plot reasons) and trying hard to stay alive he realises he’s not as alone as he thought.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

See above! All happy can’t choose the happiest.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet- think I’m too small to get noticed maybe!

Do you write smut?

Um yes I certainly do 😏 and quite well I like to think 😉 in fact an example will be popping along in FIF shortly

Craziest crossover:

Nope - now AUs is a different story

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! Can’t imagine anyone noticing my fics enough to steal them

Have you ever had a fic translate

Someone asked to once but who knows!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope

All time favourite ship?

Gotta be buddie hasnt it. They just inspire me

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of my wips languish right now and are crying out for attention but I fully intend to finish them all. I do!

What are your writing strengths?

Not sure?! I think my more canon style fics are quite consistent with the characters in the show. Think that I’m pretty good with a complicated plot but you tell me?? I like the way I can wrap a bit of humor around the more tense bits too.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Long sentences? An over enthusiasm for the comma? Too long? Poor tagging?

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Maybe controversial but I’m not a huge fan of eddie using Spanish terms of endearment in fics. If he ever does it in show I’ll feel better about it, but it doesn’t actually feel very him, apart from that I don’t mind

First fandom you wrote in?

911

Favourite fic you've written?

How can I chose!! But these old chestnuts I’ve gone on about before but I, very proud of them actually

The Lost and The Found werewolf/shifter au

Good Knight Sweet Prince Prince/knight au

Tied To You From The Start smutty paranormal shenanigans

And obviously dragonriders au… see FIF post shortly

Thanks for tags you lovely lovely people you’re all so so talented I adore you you make my days so much brighter ☀️💜☀️

@rogerzsteven @hoodie-buck @thekristen999 @loserdiaz @weewootruck

@shipperqueen6 @stagefoureddiediaz @underwaterninja13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990

@bidisasterevankinard @bekkachaos @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @honestlydarkprincess

@saybiwithme @loveyouanyway @lover-of-mine @watchyourbuck @jesuisici33

@monsterrae1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @shortsighted-owl @fiona-fififi @the-likesofus

#buddie #buddie fic #fic writer game #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #911fic

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing.

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather.

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend.

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water.

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps.

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later.

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events.

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made.

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears.

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just…

Your thoughts trail off.

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close.

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him.

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for.

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.”

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple.

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches.

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break.

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.”

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils.

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.”

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound.

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment.

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip.

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was.

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow.

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out.

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him.

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time.

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket.

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing.

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see.

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked.

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily.

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest.

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded.

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again.

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause.

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock.

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks.

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees.

You’d never been like this before – always so happy.

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?”

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower.

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?”

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.”

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that.

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch.

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head.

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing.

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on.

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more.

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face.

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.”

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead.

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation.

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall.

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go…

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned.

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him.

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply.

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course.

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?”

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs.

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory.

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms.

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns.

She feels safe with me.

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.”

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek.

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh.

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs.

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?”

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?”

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up.

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!”

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.”

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off.

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound.

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind.

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him.

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress.

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering.

“Sei mein?” Be mine?

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes.

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent.

Smiling.

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