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behold! plot chart categories!
-the chapter breakdown of the maltese falcon is on the left. there's a square for every chapter, and a corresponding square in the next row for lining up the events of the falcon with the events of the fic. -'the bippy' is the plot of the fanfic. bc there's a parody movie called the maltese bippy however it has NOTHING to do with the actual maltese falcon (full disclosure, i've never seen it. i just know it exists. i think my mom has seen it, though.). .....and the fic itself is not a parody. but!!!!! it makes me giggle. this row has additional squares for things that happen between the chapters that i still need to be aware of happening -i need to keep track of what kit finds out about the sugar bowl and a murder in the third category, so it doesn't get lost in all the plot figuring, but i didn't have enough room to fit the title in there so i decided to put emojis bc i couldn't just leave it WITHOUT a title. but there's no sugar bowl emoji so it's the ice cream emoji for that (it's....sweet......) and the knife. for. 🗡️Murder🗡️
#i was gonna say 'you know no one even gets stabbed though' but. well. mmmmmmmmmmmm. mmmmmm. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm#currently zeroing in on some specific details in the second half of the fic that need some. working around#also clearly none of the fic is written but i did set up the draft on squidgeworld so i could see how everything Looked. start picking tags#see if the summary looked good#trying to figure out how to describe the fic in the notes that's not just 'yeah this is so deep of an au they don't even know each other.#BUT PLEASE READ IT????????' a fear i did not realize i had until now.#in all things (almost all things) i plan ahead. AHEAD.#oh my planning should be very obvious from the fact that i have a CHART it has THREE COLUMNS NOW and at last page count it was 18 PAGES
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Blind sexDate[Ft. StayC's Isa & Fromis_9's Chaeyoung]
Tags: none, its a threesome
Word count: 6.5K
Author's: that...took a while, started to write this in 26th of August so i did take a very long time to finally have this out but here it is: my October upload
I really want to thank @prael @capslocked @octoberautumnbox and many others from the discord for helping me with stuff I wasn't sure about, i am really proud of that fic and i hope everyone else will enjoy reading it as much as i had fun writing it.
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She sounds pretty.
It's the lilt of her voice, how it does a cute thing where she almost, but not quite rolls her r's and chews on her consonants. A voice that sounds like it belongs to someone small. Someone, you know - conventionally attractive.
Four minutes, fifty-five seconds. And that's pretty much all she has going for her.
"Let me tell you about my friend's vacation," she starts again, and you've lost track of if this is the same friend, same vacation - or a new one. They're all blending together.
you always thought the ‘blind’ was a figure of speech. it's fucking pitch black, you wonder if compared to the other guys you were underdressed,, you did see one guy with a blazer and jeans your paycheck couldn't even pay a quarter of it.
But back to the girl, her non stop ramble is now a background noise in your ears, not even sure you can recall who is the ex of who and which boyfriend cheated on her best friend with her sister. Your brain can't keep up.
but regardless, the first round is thankfully over, say your goodbyes to the first girl and stay in your chair.
you consider leaving right now to try and not get disappointed even more, however…
“Hey” The next girl is already here, it will be rude of you to leave just like that.
“Hi I am Jake” you respond
“Nice to meet you, my name is Chaeyoung, but you can just call me Isa” she responds. The first impression you gather is her voice, Airy and sweet like honey
“Huh, it's a pretty name, First time I ever heard a name like that ” you can hear a quiet giggle to your compliment.
“Thank you, I am actually from South Korea, I came here to LA for summer vacation”.
“That's cool, I actually live in LA myself” You lean back in your chair, getting comfortable around the mysterious girl.
“Oh wow” you could hear the excitement in her voice. “Do you have any places you can recommend to me?” she asked.
“Uhh…well, Here in Santa Monica Pier it's always fun for tourists too walk around here, I assume you have already been at the walk of fame in Hollywood and Universal studios” you answer.
“I have to say though: this whole dating in the darkness is very fun, isn't it?” Fun is certainly one way to describe this, the other way is a gamble but for the sake of keeping the conversation fun you agree with her.
“Its like all of my other senses are much stronger, like some superhero…” Isa giggles, it's addictive that you can't help but join, with the sound of small shifts on her chair you can imagine how she is doing some battle poses.
“Hehe thats truuu-” quickly shut your mouth, that voice crack was the last thing you needed on a date but fortunately for you, Chaeyoung sounds a short laugh.
“Nervous?”
“hehe…Yeah, been a while since i was on a date” you explain, recalling your experiences with your failed relationships, it still stings a bit.
"Let's play a game then." There's some faint sounds of movement—a ruffling of clothes and the creak of a chair. She sounds clearer now, her voice doesn't have to carry as far and she's far more pronounced.
"Help you relax a bit: What do you think I look like?” she asks, her tone is playful and happy as if she is the host of a game show, This second date goes better than you expected.
“Hmm…let me think…I am gonna guess that you have…black hair…is it long?” Your first answer is hesitant.
“Not telling~” she responds with a playful note. “How about my clothes?”
There is curiosity in her voice, excited to see how you will respond, you could hear her fingers tapping on the table, remembering to not waste time. “Well, you sound like a sweet girl, like the simple things in life, so…” you pause, trying to imagine her in many different styles and clothes that could fit her in the 5 or so minutes that you got to know her.
Remember who is wasting who’s time so better lock in your answer now and say.
“My guess is… a summer dress?” quite the answer you give out, and the way you say it like you are one answer away from receiving the grand prize of Chaeyoung's game show, but back to her answer…
“You think it's something I will wear?” Isa questions, her tone sounds like she is also imagining herself wearing one.
“Yeah, it looks cute,” you respond. “And its not too crazy to wear on a first date” you add, hearing a small giggle after.
“Ok, i will keep it mind next time we meet”
“Will there be a next time?”
“I don't see why not”
You're happy, a bit surprised it didn't take you that much time to find someone in this speed blind dating thing, expecting more or less what happened the prior date but here you are.
“It's your turn to guess now?” You ask, already feeling comfortable around her.
“Ok ok, so i-”
But sadly as if life has decided to cockblock you, the time is over as an alarm can be heard as a signal to switch, you can only look at the general direction of where Chaeyoung could be and sigh, showing your disappointment.
“We can always meet later if you want” you can feel her wanting to continue her date with you but every good thing must come to an end
“Of course, it was very fun talking with you”
“Same to you as well” you can hear Isa lift herself from the chair. “See ya” she added in a happy tone before leaving you at the lone table. You can't help yourself but smile.
“Maybe it won't be as bad as i thought”
=================================
Time goes on and other girls come and go, however, you can't help but wonder more about Isa, what makes her laugh? What does she like to do on the weekends? what are her dreams, aspirations and everything in between, the curiosity killed you inside.
more importantly: you wonder what she looks like, outside of the darkness you were both in. If it wasn't clear enough: you are interested in her, they all say love at first sight doesn't exist but here you are, letting your mind fill with the idea of her.
You are set in stone of your choice, and there is no chance you will change yo-.
“uhm Hello? Are you there?”
Zoom out of your thoughts, focus on the husky, feminine voice coming from what seems to be in front of you. How long has she been sitting there? How long have you been daydreaming?? Thank god it's dark so quickly compose yourself before it can get awkward and start talking.
“Oh hi, im jake. Nice to meet you”
“Uhh, nice to meet you too,” she responds, it's not hard to hear the shakiness and in her voice showing her nervousness to you, the small shifting sounds in her chair. “I am Chaeyoung”.
You're caught off guard, the world is smaller than it seems with you meeting two girls Sharing the same name, “isn't that a Korean name?”
“Uh, yeah, how…how did you know?”.
“I actually met another girl named Chaeyoung before in here” you say, it would be funny if they actually knew each other but the chances are slim. It's not like you know every Jake either.
“Oh, that's cool…” she mumbled, sounding as if she was disappointed to hear it
The silence is now getting awkward, you both wait for the other one to start breaking more of the ice and it seems that she was the patient one between both of you since you are the first to give up and get the conversation going.
“So what do you do? For a living I mean” you are met with unintelligible mumbles as an answer, a bit unsure you ask her again to clarify.
“I…model, it's not super serious though” Chaeyoung quietly answered, you could hear light, quick taps beneath the table.
“Oh wow, I bet you are like, really pretty if you do modeling” you dont know how much confidence you got to say such a thing but you are already mentally face-palming yourself. You could feel yourself gaining some creep points in her mind over this comment.
“Oh, uhh Thank…thank you very much” Chaeyoung stutters, her tone jumps an Octave, sounding a small giggle. You can only sigh in relief that you didn't weird Chaeyoung out.
“I'm in LA for a photoshoot, since we finished earlier than expected i got a couple of days free to hang out around the city” she explains, still sounding nervous but much more at ease than before. “So what do you do for work, Jake?” She returns your question to you.
“Ah, I just work as a barista in a small café, nothing much.” you manage to say in a montone, unpleasant tone. You are a bit embarrassed that you have the chance to blind date a model while you are the equivalent of nothing compared to her
“It’s-It’s okay, i'm honestly not some super popular model” her words quickly come out of her mouth. “Besides, I can imagine being a barista is much more relaxing of a job, not trying to get every deal possible just not to lose money.”
“I mean, it doesn't pay much but it is less stressful,” you respond. You can hear two glasses of water placed on the wooden table with one of them handed to you, together with a straw since you could imagine how drinking from the cup would end like.
“So, what does a model like you” you stop, taking a small sip of the water to refresh yourself. -doing in blind speed dating?”
“It's just easier for me, usually when i go on dates I get nervous, and my eyes travel too much, and I kind of panic…” Chaeyoung explains, lightly giggling at her own experience before taking a sip from her water glass as well .“So I thought doing something like this could help me feel uhh you know… less stressed.”
“Hey, you do you, as long as you are comfortable.”
“Yeah, that's true,” Chaeyoung replied. Her voice turns less shaky and more clear than at the start of your date, it was clear that both of you had fun on that date.
So much so that in fact, you both were caught off guard by the timer for your date finishes and the lights suddenly turn up again, revealing the girl in front of you for the first time.
Right off the bat; you understand why Chaeyoung is a model.
A heart-shaped face and a delicate, soft jawline paired with brown, expressive eyes and Black shoulder-length silky hair that is enough to make every man look at her in awe, including you. Even her clothing is model-like with a Chic, stylish black off shoulder shirt and Denim jeans that show her features exceptionally well. By the way, you should say something before you will sound weird
“Oh, nice to meet you” stand up from your chair and raise your hand to a handshake.
“Nice to meet you too, i gotta say that i didn't see that coming at all” Chaeyoung cheerfully responded while shaking your hand, sounding a sincere chuckle while her eyes joined her wide smile.
“Same, i almost had a heart attack” you jokingly say while you get your jacket off your chair. “Say, wanna go outside? Maybe get to know each other more” she only nods, taking her jacket from her chair as you both head out from your table toward the exit of the bar.
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“Oh, here you are” you recognize this airy voice, taken aback as you look at where the voice comes from.
Though you were right about the black hair, you did miss the mark on Isa's outfit. Short crop top and tight jeans, that cute summer dress was nowhere to be found.
Her cat-like eyes lock onto yours, she flashes a sweet yet devilish grin before heading toward the two of you.
“Gotta say Jake: i had a feeling you were good looking, but i didn't expect you to be this good looking” Isa compliments you, giving a small wink then her gaze turns to Chaeyoung with curious eyes.
“Your friend?” She asks you,
“Hi, I'm Chaeyoung, nice to meet you” She says, reaching her hand forward as Isa is suddenly taken by surprise.
“Um, I am Chaeyoung”
“That's my name”
“That's… also my name"
“What's your family name?” Chaeyoung asks, now intrigued by the other girl.
“Its Lee” Isa responds, now it's Chaeyoung’s turn to be surprised.
“that's also…my family name”
During this, you are just looking at what's happening in front of you. As much as you are curious, you are also worried since it seems like both were interested in dating you after this.
However, one quick look at each other, another one to look at you and then looking back at each other, the two girls started laughing, both covering their mouths to muffle the volume. You can only sigh in relief that it turned for the better.
Eventually they both let their laughs out as Chaeyoung speaks. “It's quite a surprise to meet another Korean here in LA”.
“Please, call me Isa, and same, nice to meet you too Chaeyoung” she replies, chuckling lightly as the other girl can't help but start chuckling as well before they reach their hand for a small handshake
“Well that went better than expected” you manage to slip in the conversation reminding them that you are still here.
“You also met him on Speed dating?”
Chaeyoung nods. “We were the last round before the lights turned on, you two met earlier?”
“Yeah, the other guys were kind of boring but he was a breath of fresh air” Isa explains, turning her gaze to you and winking at you. You could swear your heart skipped a beat.
At this moment one question rose in your mind and as you looked at the two girls with an awkward look, they both realized what you were as they sounded a small ‘oh’ before looking at each other again. As much as you didn't want you, you had to choose one of the girls to be your date.
“You can go out with Jake” Chaeyoung quickly says, smiling sweetly and lightly pushing Isa toward you, both you and the cat-like girl are surprised.
“Chaeyoung? Are you sure?” you question, why was she suddenly
“Yeah yeah, I'm sure, You two met before I met you, so she should have you” she explains, her eyes joining her smile. You did feel bad about leaving Chaeyoung out however an idea was about to be suggested that would fix that problem.
Then again, you aren't sure if this was an actual fix…
“I dont mind you dating us both”
What
“What?” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrow in surprise at Isa, the one who suggested that idea out of the blue, you were not far behind Chaeyoung in your reaction as well, being completely confusement.
“I mean dont see why not, I like you, you like me, she likes you, You like her. I am bad at math but it doesn’t seem too hard to solve this problem” Isa explains looking at you, You and Chaeyoung swap looks, you can feel your cheek heating up and changing to a pink shade.
“I mean uh…as long as Jake doesn't mind, it's okay by me” Chaeyoung stutters, Isa likes this response as she smiles at her new friend, her arm goes around Chaeyoung’s shoulder.
“Im sure it will be great, So what do you say Jake?~” Isa’s voice is sweet when she looks at you with her warm smile, Chaeyoung’s smile is also there but is much more timid.
The choice was now in your field, you didn't expect there to be a third option in the first place and all in honesty: That idea seemed like trouble. But when Isa looks at you with her cheerful smile, standing like that next to Chaeyoung with a smile that makes them look together like the next cover page for a magazine, it's hard to say no to them.
And deep inside: you don't want to.
“Sure, if that's what you two want” you respond, it seems they are both satisfied with your choice as they look at each other with warm smiles.
you honestly didn't mind this idea as long as they were both happy, besides, what's the worst that could happen?.
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“Dang it!” Isa yelled, almost managing to block your hit of the air puck but it ended up inside the goal because of the unusual angle you shot it. “So…a model, that sounds like a cool job to have, no?” She directed her question to Chaeyoung, giving her the mallet she was holding.
“Huh? Oh yeah, it's fine, I'm not getting many offers compared to the average model” Chaeyoung answers, half focused on aiming the first shot before quickly shooting it at your goal. “but it's good money”
You reflect the puck. “I mean, if it's something you like to D-” Stop what you are saying and block the surprise attack Chaeyoung does, look at her cheeky smile as you know she almost scored“-Do, you can do almost everything you want” you continue what you were saying as you send the puck toward her direction.
“Yeah that's true” Chaeyoung smiled toward you, then quickly smacking the puck directly into your goal, getting herself a point. “So, what do you two work at?”.
“A Gaming cafe, Came to LA as a summer trip with my friends after exams” Isa replied, taking your mallet and shooting the puck from her side.
“Damn, compared to you two my job sounds boring as fuck, You are a model, you work at a gaming cafe, and i am just a barista at a cafe” you jokingly roast yourself, eyes moving from side to side with each side the puck goes to.
“Huh, not my first thought when it comes to your job,” Isa says, a bit surprised. “But…i imagine you look quite handsome in barista clothes” And there she goes again, with that flirty smile and curious eyes that you swear you fall in love deeper than you were.
Now look at Chaeyoung, not as flirty as the other girl but it seems that, unlike the first time you met her, she is much less tense, more at ease around the two of you, genuinely enjoying her time.
After the air hockey game is over and a quick stop to get some of LA’s finest street food (which the two seemed to really enjoy for their first time), the three of you are now sitting on the boardwalk, the sound of the waves going back and forth is singing in your ears, however now they topic of the conversation seems to get more…laid-back.
“So let me get this straight: your best friend is Korean, right?” You ask, Isa responds with a small nod
“And she has a British accent?” Chaeyoung continues your question, getting Isa to laugh again.
“Yes-” she stops talking to take a sip from the water bottle in her. “Fully Korean, with a British accent, one time my friends and I were listening to a song called ‘Run 2 U’ by some random group, and she said the name of the song as” she suddenly released a small chuckle unable to keep her cool.
“As what? Just tell us” Chaeyoung comments, half smiling as if she already knows the answer, Isa meanwhile slowly downed the water so she wouldn't choke before finally saying after a deep breath.
“Raeun tew yew…” The mock accent that Isa adds gives the punch line more of an oomph as you all start laughing, small tears of joy leave your eyes as you slam the wooden deck, meanwhile, Chaeyoung covers her mouth to hide the amount of blush she has on her cheeks from how hard she is laughing.
“Oh that was good, I didn't expect to laugh this hard” You exclaim, taking a deep breath as you now go back to staring at the waves. “Honestly…this date has been really fun, with both of you,”.
“Like-wise, we both enjoyed your company as well” Chaeyoung replies, sweetly giggling while her left fingers go to her hair, pushing it aside with the side effect of getting your cheeks slightly pink, luckily the weak lighting make it hard to see for the two girls.
“Same for me” Isa chimed in with a smile. “Say, want to continue it somewhere else? It's getting late” she prompts as a soft yawn escapes her mouth.
“Huh? Okay, if you want my place is close” you say, standing up from the deck as you lend your hand to help her stand up.
“That's great” She says as her gaze turns to the other girl. “You're coming as well Chae?”.
Chaeyoung suddenly tensed up in surprise. “Chae?” she asks, to which Isa just giggles at her rather cute reaction.
“Yeah, it's a cute nickname, you don't mind it, right?” Her tone is sweet when she asks her friend with a warm smile, that way when Chaeyoung smiles, she mirrors the same warmth with her own smile.
“Of course i don't” she responds, standing up and lightly stretching to gain some sense of her body, “So? Lets go”
“Great” Isa comments before turning her gaze to you. “Jake, mind leading the way?”
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The ride home is quieter than usual.
Not that there were not any talks inside the cab you decided to take to your place, but most of the talking was done by the two girls, sitting on each side of you, only speaking in a language you can only assume is korean.
It’s a simple loop: Isa says something, they look at you (which you could only smile awkwardly at their happy gazes), Chaeyoung answers with something else and they start giggling, sneaking another look at you and then it goes back again.
Eventually the taxi stops, leaving you right in front of your apartment complex. “Hmm, it really is close to the pier” Isa commented, easy for her to say when the entire bus ride has been ten minutes but for you it felt like an eternity.
As you scale the stairs up to your floor and walk to your apartment, you manage to fish the keys to your apartment out of your jeans pockets and open the door.
“Well here we are,” you say, getting inside and turning the lights on, revealing the living room, a couple boxes of instant-noodles on the table, the tv is on with a random news channel. “As you can see, it's not that big but its co-”
As you turn around to look at the two girls, your mouth opens wide in shock.
In front of you is Isa, head tilted slightly to the side as her lips close the distance with Chaeyoung’s. Her hands are not left idle as they both smoothly travel across the older’s back, feeling every inch of her partner’s body.
Meanwhile Chaeyoung's eyes are wide open and her body froze, surprised by the sudden act of Isa. It's not long until she as well eases up into the kiss, gently closing her eyes and putting her hands on the younger’s hips, you can hear how tongues slowly starts getting into the mix as the two girls vocalise small hums and whimpers. Eventually the torture comes to an end as their lips part from eachother but not their hands
“That… was your plan in the…end?” Chaeyoung asks in between pants, trying to collect air to aid surprise
“Of course, and besides…” Isa answers, turning her head enough to get her eyes on you, more specifically a bit down from your eyes. “It seems like he enjoys the show”.
Look down at the visible tent that is forming inside your pants and your hand that is slowly stroking itself to the beautiful yet unholy sight in front of you, another look into their eyes and you can see the arousement both girls share at your own prize.
“Come behind her jake, she feels divine” Isa elongates the last word-just the right way to get you Following her prompt, walking toward the two girls and getting behind Chaeyoung, your hands wrap around her midriff and your lips find themselves on the back of her neck causing her to quietly gasp.
With each second that your threeway makeout session was passing you could feel your pants getting tighter and your lust growing larger, enough that in a very bold move you let your palm find Isa’s right buttcock, giving it a gentle squeeze that makes her release a soft moan and take a look at you with a slutty smirk.
“You sneaky motherfucker” she playfully said, getting one of her hands off Chaeyoung's hips and wrapping it around your length. “You're hard already” she exclaims, leaving the two of you standing in front of her, wanting more from her, and from each other.
“I cant wait any longer~” Isa breathily says, giving you two a playful wink before disappearing into your bedroom. As lust quickly takes over your body you grab Chaeyoung by the hips and pull her into a kiss, and by how Chaeyoung quickly reciprocates the kiss and doesn't pull away, you can tell she wants it too.
You don't have time to process the texture of Chaeyoung lips, or how her long, soft legs are wrapped around your waist. Your only goal is to get the two of you into the bedroom, where Isa sits on your king sized bed with hungry eyes, licking her lips in anticipation.
You let Chaeyoung get on your bed as you quickly join the two girls while tossing your shirt off to the side of the bed letting the two girls marvel at your naked chest.
“Fuck” Chaeyoung mouthed.
“Told you he was hot” Isa adds, scooting herself in front of you to get a hold of your chest before leaning in for a quick peck on your lips. “You don't mind undressing yourself, do you? me and Chae here have a show we need to give you” No answer was needed besides a nod as you went to the edge of your bed, letting the two girls begin.
It starts with kissing, slow yet sensual with Isa taking the lead by Straddling Chaeyoung's lap while one of her hands begins to glide across Chaeyoung's curves, ending at her left breast. “Fuck unnie, the things i will do to have a body like yours”.
Chaeyoung elicits a muffled moan to the soft grope Isa gives her, eyes completely shut and her and head looking up to let the pleasure take over. Soon Isa begins moving her hands all around her body, giving every inch of skin attention until eventually she stops one hand on the hem of Chaeyoung's shirt, the other supporting her from behind.
“You don't mind letting me take it off, right?” A quick nod of approval from the older one and Isa begins to slowly pull it up, moving to the right to let you see how slowly but surely more skin is revealed until finally the shirt is completely above her head giving you a clear view of Chaeyoung's black, lacy bra.
During all of this you are hard as a rock, can't take your eyes off from the two girls in front of you, even while you attempt to zip your jeans and rid them off your legs leaving you only in your briefs. You could swear you saw Isa lick her lips at the first sights of your briefs.
“Can I take yours too?” Chaeyoung's question is needy, eyes showing every sign of want to her Partner, hands are not left idle either with both of them resting on the upper part of Isa’s midriff, slightly below her two mounds.
“Of course, Unnie” she responds, leaning her body back and relaxing herself to let the older begin a strip tease of her own, every second that passes raises the sexual tension between them to a new level.
Unlike Chaeyoung, Isa’s crop top is not as loose compared to her black shirt, revealing the younger's breasts, covered with a crimson colored undergarments of her own with nipples taut from the arousal.
“Much better” Isa sighs in relief, feeling lighter without her crop top that is now thrown somewhere to the floor as once again she looks at you with a soft gaze however her mouth is anything but, painted with a sultry smile that can only speak trouble, finally with a breathy voice she playfully asks
“You're coming, Jake?”
The way Isa says your name, it's enough to let your primal instincts take over you, every red light is now turned green as you quickly pull Isa from behind into your lap, feeling her naked skin in your palms, right hand rests on her breast while the left hand goes to her thigh, rubbing and squeezing it to your heart's content.
“Oh god, yessss” Isa hisses the last word, it was clear that she enjoys every second of this, enough so that she doesnt pull away but instead leans in, meeting you in a torrid, messy makeout session, you two don't notice how Chaeyoung has already got rid of her whole bottom, only with her bra on with fingers already inside her pussy, definitely enjoying the view.
“Don't just stand there Chae, join us” This might be the most confident thing you have said this entire evening but it sure works on her since Chaeyoung now sits in front of Isa, palms massaging her clothed thighs, giving you a free hand to grope Isa’s other breast.
Those are not the same girls you met a couple of hours ago during that blind date, any semblance of innocence and fluff was left outside the door, now replaced with Lust and it's oh so clear with how Chaeyoung's eyes get aroused with each button she pops out of Isa jeans until eventually she finds her undergarment, same color as her bra with a wet spot in the middle.
Knowing what Chaeyoung was doing, Isa takes her hands into her denim jeans, lowering both the jeans and her own panties before throwing them away, leaving her creamy, thick thighs for both of you to revel in.
With the excitement in your body. You don't notice how Isa left your grasp, crawling away with a sway of her hips from side to side, now near her Chaeyoung they both look at you with an inviting smile, now giving you a chance to see both of them in their full glory.
With a devilish smirk Isa now moves behind the older girl, her eyes looking directly at you in an attempt to lure you in. Then a click can be heard as Chaeyoung’s bra now falls onto the mattress, Isa quickly joins her as now in front of you, two naked, gorgeous ladies sit in front of you.
And finally, knowing what the last piece is missing from the puzzle, you finally grab the hem of your boxers, pulling it down to let your Hardened cock stand strong and proud.
“Told you he was big” Isa exclaims, giving a small nudge to Chaeyoung with a small giggle, her friend quickly joins her.
“Yeah…so big” she mumbles quietly, her finger inside her mouth, lightly chewing on it to hold in the excitement of seeing your size.
However, you didn't come this far with them just to watch each other naked, and they are not either as without saying a word, the two of them playfully shove you down into the mattress and get into their positions.
It starts off with Isa finding her place on your legs once again, looking directly at you with her thighs wrapped around your cock, only the tip is exposed to the air as after a flirty wink, she starts rubbing her thigh on you.
“Oh shit, Isa…”
You groan, the rest of your voice comes out as a moan that gets her excited, you could have witnessed the obscene act of her thigh job until the end of time, however it is quickly obstructed by Chaeyoung's ass planted on your chest, her rear side all for you to view how it moves, you are not surprised why she is a model with a body as divine as hers.
“Jake…i can feel you twitching ” Isa whines, feeling your tip slightly touch her entrance is enough to let some precum leak out of your tip with you releasing another moan.
“Hey, let me have some too” Chaeyoung interrupts, taking her thumb and brushing it over your tip and grabbing some of it as you could hear how she gives it a small lick before humming cheerfully at your taste.
“Ooo, he taste good~” how the fuck did you even think this girl was innocent again?
“Can I have some unnie?”
“Sure” as if Chaeyoung’s timing was perfect, your first shot of cums leaks out of your member as she quickly gets some on her fingers.
“Say ahhh” Chaeyoung prompts as Isa happily obliges, letting her fingers get inside her mouth, tasting . Its down right torture how you are not allowed to see what might as well be a scene from an adult film but regardless you can only enjoy the sounds, its not like you didnt do it before.
As your libido starts growing, so does your confidence as your palms firmly hold each buttcock of Chaeyoung, feeling its texture by softly squishing it, kneading it like dough causing Chaeyoung to utter a moan while arching her body back to give you all of the signals that she is enjoying it.
“Okay, this is enough teasing, we want the real thing now” Isa exclaims, Freeing your cock from the confines of her thighs giving it a breath of fresh air as now she squats over your face, giving you a clear view of her shaven pussy. Chaeyoung meanwhile heads over to sit next to your cock, still standing, waiting for the next storm to hit.
“I assume I am still not gonna get a look aren't i?” You ask, trying to sound cocky however Isa didn't say anything as she was slowly lowering her body, obstructing your view once again. With her thighs around your body and her pussy so close to your face, you let your tongue out giving her lips the first lick, just to test the waters.
“Oh fuck, yess” You hear Isa muffled moans from pleasure, feeling her ass gyrating on your tounge, enjoying every moment as you could feel the friction of her thighs on your face.
“You should join us Chaeyoung-AH, i can see him waiting just for you~” you could feel yourself getting even harder than before by the way Isa playfully invites her friend, all the while she is overtaken by pleasure. you are excited to see how Chaeyoung goes off with you, however your thoughts are stopped with a loud groan, not expecting your cock to feel the tightness of her pussy wrapped around you.
After the first contact Chaeyoung starts slowly moving up and down, each dip takes your cock deeper inside her, you could feel how each time you were inside her fluids were coating you more and more. “Oh my god Isaaaaa-” she stops her sentence, quickly releasing a sultry, husky moan. “His f-feels so good…”.
“His tongue too unnie, he is eating me out so well” Isa adds. It's nice to hear the compliment, so much that you get the confidence to start moving at your own pace, pushing your tongue inside. Meanwhile your hands grope Isa’s ass, giving you the grip to start pushing your hips in a matching pace to chaeyoung’s downward movement, Causing the two girls to scream from pleasure, holding each other in order to not collapse on the spot.
You could only Imagine how the girl’s lewd expressions were, just from the ungodly sounds, the scent of lust and cum, and the feeling of their curves on your body you could guess the fun they were having, but it would not be over until you all finally relieved yourself.
“Are you close Jake?” Isa manages to form a question while looking down, you could only respond with a muffled ‘yes’ and a nod of approval.
“I'm close too guys, i have to cum” Chaeyoung replies, releasing another moan in between bohnces it seems like you were all in on the same train of thought as you could feel yourself getting closer to your climax, even without Isa’s Ass directly on your face your view was getting hazy from ecstacy.
“Shit girls, i am going to-” you couldn't even finish the sentence before finally releasing your cum, thank god you pulled out of Chaeyoung just in time.
Your thick load goes all over their bodies, on Chaeyoung thighs, on Isa’s midriff, some even spills on your own abs, you are also not alone as they both get their own orgasm which goes all around your body, Chaeyoung coating your cock and Isa spilling around your face and abs
It takes a while but eventually you are all drained, both girls fall into each of your side, finally giving you a chance to see the two girls laid on the mattress, their bodies painted with cum from the three of you, their faces happy and satisfied.
For a couple of minutes it's quiet, the only way you communicate is with your eyes, looking at each other not with lust but instead with a warm, peaceful gaze.
Eventually Chaeyoung finally breaks the silence. “Fuck, im not a virgin but i gotta say; that is the best sex i had in my life”
“Same for me, i don't know if i want a round 2 or to stop” Isa joins between heavy pants, her hands wrap around your body as she looks at you with the same warm smile she had back when you first saw her.
“I don't know about you two, but i need a good rest after this” you manage to say as you once again lay down on the bed, eyes looking at the ceiling with each hand goes behind the girls’s back, pulling them closee to you.
“Okay then, we will start cleaning and then join you” Isa replies, letting you close your eyes and get some rest. However not before you can hear faint sounds of slurping as you open eye and see Chaeyoung's lips wrapped around the tip of your cock, isa behind holding her hair and tying it to makeshift ponytail.
“Hmm, it seems you two wanted another” you say, smiling at the two girls.
“Hey, you're still hard and we are still horny, you complain?” Isa asks, her eyes locking into yours paired with a flirty grin and a cute wink.
Something tells you that you wont get a good rest from those two girls.
#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#isa stayc#isa smut#stayc smut#chaeyoung fromis 9#chaeyoung smut#fromis 9 smut#male reader smut#x male reader#male reader
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love thy neighbor
member — fwb! neighbor!joshua x f reader genre — smut, light angst, college au, idiots to lovers, happy ending word count — 5.1k synopsis — there's perks to having your fwb live next door to you, but there's also downsides. like the fact that it's really hard to hide that you're in love with him. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, one mention of periods, masturbation (both reader & joshua), the smut is REALLY quick, premature ejaculation sort of, a little bit of body worship, nicknames (baby, good girl), not really described but implied creampie, they are idiots and they are in love and it's gross and sweet notes — tysm to @wongyuseokie & @onlymingyus for help choosing the banner <3 and thanks to @petrichor-han for this idea !! fun fact this was originally going to be for skz han but i figured it would also make a great shua fic so i chose him instead. fun fact #2 i am addicted to giving shua's fics religious titles even when there's no mention of religion in the fic at all lmao. it gives me a giggle like how could i not when it fits so well?? also this is one of my few attempts at angst so if you liked this please reblog or send and ask and lmk how you liked it! hope you enjoy!!
joshua should be asleep right now.
really, he should. it’s 11pm on a sunday night and he’s got his chemistry lab at 8am tomorrow, and he’s still got a couple of assignments that he really needs to catch up on before the final next week.
but then there's that bump against the wall that he’s grown so accustomed to, and his eyes fly open.
maybe becoming fuck buddies with your next-door neighbor isn't the smartest idea he's ever had, because this is the fourth time this week he's had to hear your moans as he tries to fall asleep.
the walls are thin, but he's certain that you must not realize just how thin they are, because he can hear every sound you make as clear as day. every whimper, every buzz of your vibrator, even every moan of his name, barely muffled by the wall separating his room from yours. especially every moan of his name. and it’s been driving him insane.
really, it’s his own fault for trying to be a polite neighbor. he almost wishes that he hadn’t run into you when you’d moved into the apartment next door at the beginning of the semester, because then he probably wouldn’t have recognized you at that party during homecoming weekend and got to talking with you.
and because of that he probably wouldn’t have taken you home from said party and given you the best dicking down of your life (your words, not his), and then after that you probably wouldn’t have decided that you wanted to keep fucking him and agreed to become friends with benefits.
except he doesn’t actually wish that at all.
having your situationship live right next door is pretty convenient, after all. you’ll shoot him an “omw” text and be waiting at his front door seconds later. he forgot to bring condoms? it’ll just take a sec to run home and grab some. when you accidentally leave your panties in his apartment, he can drop them off the same day and then forget about it (he definitely won’t).
he could probably even just bang on his side of the wall and you’d know to come over, but to him that’s a little too far, too impolite. he at least has the decency to send a text first.
a part of him wonders if that’s why you’re so noisy at night, if you’re doing it on purpose and knowing he’ll hear it, secretly hoping for him to come knocking at your door. but he doesn’t want to assume, doesn’t want to show up without asking and realize he’s been completely wrong this whole time and make himself look like a fool.
so he settles for earplugs instead. because there’s no way he can sit there and listen to the sounds you make and not start thinking about all the times he’s been in your bed with you just inches away. and by the time he’s cum all over his fist and he’s finally worn himself out enough to fall asleep, it’s 4am and he has class in the morning and he’s wasted an entire night yet again.
he’s been inside your apartment dozens of times, enough to know the layout by heart. enough to know that your bedroom sits directly next to his, enough to know that your bed is pushed against that very thin wall the same way his is and that your nightstand with the drawer full of toys is right next to the bed.
oh, he���s gotten to know more than just your apartment over the course of the semester. he knows which positions are your favorite (you’ve never told him outright, but you always cum harder when he fucks you in missionary). he knows the names you like to be called and the ones you like to call him. he can even tell which vibrator you’re using right now (the red one doesn’t buzz as loud, so you only use it when your favorite purple one is dead. tonight you’re using the purple one.)
but he’s also gotten to know the way you smile when you see a cat video, the way your forehead wrinkles when you talk about your calculus professor, and the way you like your pancakes in the morning (though he’s never been able to make them for you himself, he swears one day he will. one slice of butter, a ton of syrup, and a handful of cut up strawberries.)
so maybe that’s what makes these nights so unbearable. he can keep lying to himself that it doesn’t bother him, that it wouldn’t bother him as much as it does if he just… didn’t like you.
but, unfortunately, he does like you. and he’s stuck with this problem until he finds a way to fix it, but just like in the lab analyses he has to write every week, he’s got no ideas. so he’ll have to settle for fucking his hand and biting his pillow so you don’t get suspicious of the noises he’s making, and hope that his silly little crush goes away on its own.
after all, he isn’t anything to you. albeit a sexual one, he’s still just a friend. and he’s certain that’s all you want.
god, you wish that joshua could see you right now. you’re certain he’d love it.
earlier tonight you’d had to physically force yourself to turn your phone off so that you wouldn’t be tempted to text him to come over. you’d already texted him on monday night and thursday afternoon, and you’d knocked on his door on saturday at practically the crack of dawn because you’d woken up thinking about him.
were you embarrassed about it? absolutely, but that wasn’t enough to stop you. okay, maybe sometimes it was, because the girl who lived across the hall had caught you (on multiple occasions) sneaking out of joshua’s apartment twice in one day and you refused to meet him again for nearly a week after that.
but joshua didn’t seem one bit embarrassed by your arrangement. he always gave you a friendly smile and offered to walk you to your door afterwards, which you always declined, and he always made sure to say he looked forward to seeing you again. you even saw him wave at the nosy neighbor girl when he’d left your apartment once (which you only remembered because you’d spent the rest of the night in tears about it, but not that you were jealous about it or anything).
you felt bad enough meeting up with him so often, but you felt even worse that you didn’t even have a label to show for it. you knew it was probably exactly what he’d wanted out of this, just somebody to call for a quick fuck, but it made you mad. it was why you got so angry about the girl across the hall; because you knew everybody loved joshua, so of course he couldn’t love only you.
he was hot and he was in a frat and he probably had a hundred girls he could call if he wanted to. with how often you text him to fuck, plus the other people he’s probably seeing? he’s gotta be exhausted.
which is why most nights you opt for touching yourself instead. in the months since you first met joshua, your vibrators have been going through batteries a lot faster than usual, a fact you’re not exactly proud of but will own up to nonetheless.
it’s not your fault that the image of him leaning over you, his thin gold chain dangling in your face as he fucks you is burned into your head practically 24 hours of the day. or the fact that his voice plays on repeat in your brain, specifically that one time he called you “baby” and you came so hard you nearly passed out.
so really, it’s actually his fault that he’s constantly on your mind. his fault for being sexy… or your fault for falling for him?
either way, you find yourself yet again with your pussy stuffed full of your own fingers and your favorite purple vibrator on your clit (you remembered to charge it last night, after you came to the thought of joshua fucking you on your kitchen counter), wishing he could be there to see it.
you close your eyes and picture him in front of you, holding the vibrator against your clit as he grins down at you. such a good girl, he’d say, brushing his thumb over your nipple with his free hand. you love this, don’t you?
“fuck, yes, joshua,” you reply, gasping as you push your fingers deeper inside. you arch off the bed a little, pushing your head back against your pillow. you’ve learned that he loves it when you call him by his full name instead of “shua” or “josh”; you don’t know why, but it always seems to drive him crazy, and you never fail to leave his apartment sore in all the best places afterwards.
you spread your legs a little wider and moan, rolling your cheek to the side as you imagine him fucking you with his fingers instead of your own. i can tell you’re getting close, imaginary joshua says with a smirk, his hand cupped against your pussy as he thrusts his fingers in and out at a bruising pace.
“mhm,” you whimper, curling your fingers and trying to convince yourself that it feels as good as when he does it. “please, joshua—”
you turn your vibrator up to the highest setting, your hips canting into the air as you squeeze your eyes tighter shut. you can feel the waves beginning to wash over you and you repeat his name like a plea, chanting it over and over until you can’t form words anymore.
cum for me, baby, all over my fingers, he says, and your mouth falls open as you let go, your knee accidentally smacking against the wall as your legs shake with pleasure. you keep your vibrator held firmly against your clit until it sends you over the edge again, still riding the high of your first orgasm as you struggle to breathe through it. joshua loves to overstimulate you, until all you can do is weakly push at his hands and beg him to leave your exhausted cunt alone.
the post-orgasm clarity soon starts to hit and you’re left with the realization that you just got off from pretending your neighbor is just as in love with you as you are with him. absolutely pathetic.
but your eyes are starting to droop and you’re quickly finding that you’re too tired to stay awake to think about how much of a loser you are, so you tuck your favorite vibrator back into its spot in your drawer and put your pajamas back on and tuck yourself into bed, trying not to wish joshua was there beside you instead of infinitely far away on the other side of the wall.
when joshua wakes up the next morning, he half expects you to be waiting outside his door again.
of course anyone would be annoyed at being woken up by their neighbor before 7am, but then you’d sheepishly told him that you’d had the most insane wet dream about him and he’d been more than happy to let you come in and bounce yourself on his lap while he watched the early morning sunlight stream through his bedroom window onto your cheeks.
pretty much the perfect morning, in his eyes, except for the fact that you hadn’t slept in his bed with him. you never sleep over and it’s obvious why, but maybe it’s for good reason: he won’t get so attached to you.
unfortunately, though, this morning you aren’t waiting for him, so he trudges to his kitchen to make himself one lonely cup of coffee and one lonely stack of frozen waffles and get ready for his day.
he’s started noticing patterns about when and why you text him, and he finds himself checking his phone all day.
on mondays, because you have all your classes on those days and you’re already exhausted so why not get fucked within an inch of your life before you settle in for the night?
on thursdays, usually in the afternoons because both your schedules happen to line up where he’s just finished his work shift and you’re on your break between classes so it leaves the perfect amount of time for him to eat you out.
if you have a particularly hectic morning you’ll text him right away and ask him if he’d come over once you get home that night, and he’ll reply that he can’t wait with a big red heart emoji.
in fact, most of the times you want to see him is when you’re stressed or upset, which makes sense to him but at the same time makes him a little disappointed. he hopes that you’d want to see him on your happiest days, because any day he gets to see you is automatically his happiest day. but he supposes that’s where you’ve drawn the line, and he’ll have to be okay with that.
joshua’s restless through his chem lab this morning, and then his english lecture, and then his shift at work, not-so patiently awaiting you to ask him about his plans tonight.
but you don’t text him at all on monday, and you don’t text him on tuesday, either. he catches you going into your apartment at the same time he’s leaving on wednesday, and he waves as usual but you just give him a small nod and hurriedly close your door behind you. he’s almost positive you’ll text him on thursday, but your lunch hour comes and goes without a word.
he almost never texts you first, because you text him so often and most of the time he’s already thinking about you anyway. so when sunday rolls around again and he still hasn’t heard anything from you, he thinks maybe you’re waiting for him to say something first this time.
he knows you’ve been home, because he’s heard your friends coming and going. maybe you’ve just been busy with other things and didn’t mean to ghost him. sure, you get together pretty often, but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen every single week. plans change and that’s fine, and it is right before finals week after all.
but even when you’re on your period and aren’t in the mood to see him, you usually send a text as a heads up, and he’s definitely not keeping track or anything but this week shouldn’t be one of them. he’s going through every possibility he can think of as to why you’ve seemingly disappeared, but he just can’t find a reason why.
but then he realizes something else; he’s stopped hearing you at night, too. and then he really starts to worry, because he remembers how upset you looked when he saw you in the hall and maybe something really awful happened to you and he’s been pouting in his room like a selfish idiot this whole time.
so he pulls up your contact, cursor blinking over the text box as he tries to figure out what to say.
hey, he decides on, and he’s surprised but happy when you read the message right away.
he waits a moment, but you don’t respond, so he texts again. you can talk to me, you know? about other stuff. i’m your friend.
he shakes his head and deletes that last sentence before pressing send. you read it immediately again, but it’s a long and agonizing few minutes before you reply.
okay
he frowns, not knowing what to say back. did i do something and make you mad? you seem upset and i’m sorry.
it’s nothing. don’t worry
joshua wants to say, but i do worry, but he knows that might be too far and he’s still not even sure what’s wrong.
so instead he stands up and walks out his front door, leaving his phone on his bed. he may be an idiot, but the least he can do is try to act like your friend.
you don’t answer when he knocks, so he calls your name. “i know you’re home, i can hear you through the wall.”
finally the lock clicks, and you open your door just a crack. “what do you mean, you can hear through the wall?”
he pauses. “i can hear you… walking around, and stuff. making noise. the walls are thin.” so you really didn’t know? oh god, now he feels like an asshole for listening, even if he was trying not to.
“oh. well.” you sigh and close your eyes, inhaling. “that’s embarrassing.”
“can we talk?” joshua asks, suddenly feeling exposed. he’s plenty comfortable in large groups of people, but when he’s around you he wants to hold you tight and keep you secret and safe, out of sight of any wandering eyes. standing out in the hallway where anyone could hear is not how he’d like this to go.
“sure,” you mumble, swinging your door open for him to come inside.
you close the door but don’t move from behind it, standing like you’re waiting for him to say something. so he does.
“listen. i know whatever this is, is messy,” he starts, gesturing between the two of you. “but you’re my friend, and i care about you and i want you to be happy.” he sighs. “so please tell me what’s wrong, because not texting you has been really weird, and if you want to end this then that’s fine and i’ll leave you alone, but don’t just ghost me. we’re still neighbors and i’m not a fan of awkward hallway conversations.”
you crack a smile for a second, but it quickly fades. “do you want to end this?”
“no, not really. but i don’t want you to feel like you have to keep doing this if you don’t like it.”
“i thought it was pretty obvious i did like it,” you say with an almost laugh.
he stares at you quietly. “then what’s going on?”
“i want to keep doing this, but i just… i don’t think i can,” you say, avoiding his eyes. “at least not like this.”
“what do you mean, ‘like this’?”
“joshua, because i like you. and i feel awful because i know we’re not on the same page and it feels like i’m taking advantage of you because you probably have a dozen other women telling you the exact same thing and it’s probably exhausting and it’s not what you want!”
his face contorts in shock at your words. “well, first, that’s not at all true. and second of all, stop trying to guess what i want without just talking to me. what is it that you want?”
“you! i don’t know. i don’t know what i want anymore,” you say, covering your face with your hands.
joshua’s not sure if he should hug you or not, but he really, really wants to. “is that all that’s been bothering you this week?” he asks softly.
“yeah,” you say, moving your hands but still avoiding his eyes. “it’s stupid. i know, and i’m sorry.”
he laughs, and you look up at him like he’s crazy. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says. “i’m sorry. because for months i’ve been wishing we could change this but i never said anything because this is what i thought you wanted.”
you keep staring at him, but he can’t read the emotion on your face. “so… what is this, then?”
“i’ll be whatever you want me to be for you. your fuck buddy, or your friend, or your boyfriend, whatever.”
“you really don’t see other people?” you ask, still unsure.
now it’s joshua’s turn to look at you like you’re crazy. “no, why would i want to? i don’t care if you do, but with how often you text me it sounds like you don’t, either.”
“i just figured— nevermind,” you sigh.
“can i give you a hug?” he asks after a minute. “we’ve been sleeping together the whole semester, and i don’t think i’ve ever given you a real, proper hug.”
you smile, and seeing that instantly makes his day. “yes, please.”
his arms feel secure around you, and his chest is warm against your cheek. with a sigh you close your eyes, breathing in the smell of his cologne that you’ve been trying to push out of your brain for weeks.
you stand there for a while, neither of you making any moves to pull away. it's been a really, really long week without joshua and you didn’t realize how badly you missed him until this moment.
“so about the walls thing—”
“hm?” he mumbles.
“—you can really hear everything?”
he laughs. “oh, yeah. your bedroom is right next to mine. been having trouble sleeping for so long because i kept hearing you moan my name and it got me hard every time.”
your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “joshua, i’m so sorry! if i had known—”
he shakes his head, cutting you off. “you can make it up to me by telling me everything you were thinking about.”
“probably nothing you don't already know,” you grin shyly.
“probably, but i wanna hear you say it anyway.”
you lean away from him a little bit, releasing your arms from around him to rest against his chest. “i should've known this is why you wanted to come over,” you say, pretending to be mad, but you can already feel the tingling feeling building up in your stomach at the thought.
“it's not,” he replies smoothly, “but i did miss waking up to you knocking on my door.”
you pout. “that was only that one time!”
“doesn't mean it has to be the last.”
heat creeps up into your cheeks and you glance away from him, gaze trained on his shoulder.
“you really wanna know what i was thinking about?” you ask, finally building up the courage to look back up at his face.
“of course i do.” his eyes are sparkling as he watches you, and you can't exactly identify the emotion but you know it makes your heart flutter.
“well,” you start, “it was different every time, but most of the time it started like this.” you trail your hands down his torso, pausing when they reach his hips. he stays silent, eyes fixed on your movements and a little smile on his face that you don't think he even realizes he's doing.
“and then…” you look down, a little surprised to notice the bulge in his pants already there. you place your hand over him gently and look up, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't stop you.
you clear your throat and start again. “and then, you'd sit on the couch and let me gag on your cock for a while.”
you start to push on his hips, backing him into your living room. he’s enjoying this way more than he should be, but then again, you basically just confessed your love to him so it’s kind of the best day of his life.
the back of his thighs hits the arm rest of your couch, but before you can move him any further his hands pull you flush against his body, his bulge pressing into your stomach.
“how about we skip that part for another day?” he says, his voice low. “tell me what happens after.”
you try your best to hold back a moan, suddenly losing your ability to speak. you can practically feel his cock throbbing through his clothes and it makes it impossible to come up with a coherent sentence.
“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he hums, hands still firmly gripping your hips, and if your brain hadn’t short-circuited already then it definitely has now. “been hearing you in your room for weeks, i know how loud you like to be.”
“that’s not fair,” you finally manage, still trying to collect your thoughts.
joshua leans forward to kiss your neck, gently at first but quickly growing harsher, and you’re sure he can feel your pulse jump every time his teeth graze your skin.
“fuck, just like that,” you whimper, “exactly like that, shua—”
after a minute he hums and glances up at you through his lashes, clearly waiting for you to keep talking.
“we’d make out for a while, and then you—you’d fuck me on the floor,” you gasp out. joshua moans against your skin, and it’s only then that you realize your hands have found their way to his hair, tugging on it to urge him on.
your fingers loosen and he pulls away, the corners of his lips wet with saliva. “on the floor? you deserve better than that, baby,” he tsks. “can i take you to bed instead?”
“please,” you whine softly, suddenly feeling unbearably eager to fuck him. all week you’ve been using every last ounce of your energy to avoid thinking about joshua, but now that he’s here in front of you and way too willing to play into your fantasies, all the emotions you’ve been holding in are spilling out, and you don’t feel like containing them anymore.
you grab his hand and it’s like you can’t make it to your room fast enough, falling onto your bed and pulling him down on top of you. by then you’ve both forgotten the conversation you were having before because you’re too busy desperately pressing your lips against his, barely remembering to breathe as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you and what were you even talking about again?
your brain is clouded when he finally pulls away with a gasp, kissing your cheek and your neck once more. his hands slip beneath your shirt and tug it over your head, making his way between your breasts and down your stomach and leaving more kisses as he goes. your skin burns with each touch, gentle lips and not-so-gentle hands covering every inch of you until you feel like your whole body is on fire.
he sits up just long enough to pull his own shirt off and now it’s your turn to touch, your hands instantly finding his chest as you trace your fingertips down his abs.
“how do you want me?” joshua groans, his hands joining yours at his hips to help him push his pants to the ground.
“fuck… missionary? just like this?” you say as you kick your pants and panties off in a rush, wrapping your legs around his waist.
his cock brushes against your stomach and you sigh out a moan, your hands moving up to grab at his biceps. he doesn’t say another word as he runs his tip through your folds, his attention fixated on your pussy and how you’re already dripping for him. for a second he forgets where he is and what he’s doing, so engrossed with the sight of you and how fucking glad he is that he didn’t lose you because you’re both idiots that assume too much about what the other wants instead of communicating your feelings like normal adults.
you let out a little noise and his eyes flick back up to your face, his gaze immediately softening at the blissful expression on your face. to think, he could’ve been seeing you like this the whole time if he had the balls to admit how he felt sooner. but there’s plenty of time for him to pout about it later because right now you need him, and he needs you, too, so why waste time thinking about that when he can think about how good you look taking his cock?
he leans down because he can’t resist kissing your beautiful face one more time, and finally he pushes into you, letting out a loud whine at the same time you moan his name. the sound of your voices joined together goes straight to his dick as he pulls almost all the way out, thrusting back into you with renewed energy.
“baby— fuck,” he groans, his grip on your body tightening as his thrusts begin to grow faster and rougher. “so good to me.”
you clench hard around him at the nickname, clinging onto him as you squeeze your eyes shut.
and then without warning everything hits you all at once, and you go boneless in his arms as he whimpers and groans and gasps and holds you tight and he probably told you he loves you about a million times as he was cumming too but you can’t hear anything as you lay exhausted on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with your ears ringing.
even with his shaking hands you can still feel the gentleness in joshua’s touch as you start to come back down, the warmth of his breath on your cheek as his fingers lightly brush your hair out of your face, feeling him twitch inside you before he slowly pulls out.
with his own orgasm following just barely after yours that was probably some kind of record for the fastest round ever, but you don’t even have the strength to care. so what if he usually fucks you for hours on end? all you care about is the fact that he’s tracing your collarbones with a fucked-out little smile on his face and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life.
with a soft grunt he stands up, and you call out his name with all the energy you have left.
“joshua?”
“mhm?”
“can you stay?” you ask, and somehow you both know you’re talking about more than just for the next few minutes.
he smiles. “wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.” and when he comes back with a towel and a wet wipe and apologizes for how fast it all was and promises to give you more whenever you want because he’s officially yours now, you know he’s telling the truth.
even when he’s doing nothing at all, joshua never fails to make your head spin.
laying in the dark with you, his fingers absentmindedly twirling your hair as you snuggle into his chest, you can’t even begin to find the words to explain how good it feels knowing he loves you and you love him back.
but it doesn’t seem like he needs words right now. all he needs is you.
i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!
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#1k#kvanity#kflixnet#k-labels#[📌] — june.writes#joshua smut#svt smut#seventeen smut#joshua hong smut#joshua imagines#joshua x reader#joshua fanfic#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#svt scenarios#svt x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#[❤️] — smut#[💙] — angst#[💟] — joshua
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HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!
Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”
TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍
REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION
authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!
[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]
You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.
No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.
You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.
You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.
You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.
A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—
—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.
You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”
Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.
He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.
“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.
He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.
It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.
The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.
Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.
Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.
You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.
Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”
Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.
“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”
#call of duty#call of duty mwii#cod mw2#cod#mw2022#modern warfare ii#mw2 2022#crow’s 4k celebration#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x fem!reader#simon ghost riley x fem!reader#simon ‘ghost’ riley#ghost angst#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#mw2 ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost cod#simon riley x reader#simon riley x fem!reader#fem!reader#mw2 fanfic#cod mwii#modern warfare ghost
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THE ACT OF SPITE
— satan x f! reader MC feat. lucifer
syn: The Avatar of Wrath knows just what would infuriate the prideful demon the most—that is, fucking you against the door to Lucifer’s secret office, all while he’s inside it.
18+ MDNI; nsfw, smut, exhibitionism, semi-public sex (inside the HoL library), unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), horny luci, satan being a lil shit to lucifer, pet name (darling), not proofread.
word count: 1.9k
notes: divider: cafekitsune. hello! this is a repost. this fic was previously posted on my old deactivated account so i’m not plagiarising anyone. enjoy :>
this was wrong. sinful. lewd. hell, those words were far beyond what you and satan were doing right this very moment—there weren’t any words to describe how naughty your actions were but with every single thrust of the fourth-born’s hips, those thoughts of hesitancy slowly slipped from your mind. buried with the surge of lust clouding your thoughts as satan’s pace didn’t let up, not even once. his hips pushing into your own with such drive, and desperation that your lower back painfully digs further into the edges of the shelves.
that’s right. you were inside the library, most importantly, your back flush against the door to lucifer’s secret office—satan made sure of it. the worst part wasn’t even having sex in the library, it was the fact that you two were doing it right outside lucifer’s private study while he’s inside. oh, satan has seen the way his eldest brother looks at you with intent. the way lucifer’s scarlet eyes hungrily trace your figure with each opportunity he gets, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s practically eye-fucking you. satan still remembers the swirling storm inside him, the anger that bubbled at the pit of his stomach from the way his older brother eyed you. now, he just can’t help but remind lucifer who you belonged to.
the soft ember glow from the fireplace cast the side of satan’s handsome face, sweat glimmering from the fire, painting the colours of the sunset upon his fair skin—golden hair that stuck to his forehead tinged with streaks of reds and oranges; emerald irises full of lust mixed with a scarlet hue, his features fading into an angry red. wrath. you were sure that’s what he was feeling, he always did. your nails dug into the fabric of his shoulders, legs wrapped around his slender waist tightening with every jolt of your body. “s-satan—ah!” you moaned, heated and desperate just how he liked it. the corner of his mouth tugged upward, satan was sure that your erotic sounds were loud enough to reach the other side of the door. enough to disrupt lucifer from his work.
satan bit his lip from the way you felt around him, your warm walls hugging his cock so tightly, so deliciously that it made his emerald eyes roll to the back of his head. he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer with how you squeezed him, and that was fine but he needed to make the most of it—he needed you to be louder. satan’s nails painfully dug into the edge of the bookshelf, heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust of his hips. arousal dripped down to his balls, creating wet noises that filled your ears—a white ring forming at the base of his cock. fuck, it was naughty. the vast library was filled with your’s and satan’s sounds mixed with wet squelches, and the crackling of fire. you didn’t need to worry about being caught by the other brothers; belphegor was up in the attic, fast asleep, and leviathan was having a TSL marathon while the rest of them had gone out, leaving satan and lucifer down here.
thud. thud. thud. the door to lucifer’s secret office cried from satan’s unwavering pace. inside the private study, a blanket of blush covered lucifer’s face, cheeks heating up from the obvious activity happening outside the room. he didn’t know whether to curse his younger brother for vexing him like this, or to feel flustered at the lewd noises coming from your throat—the way you cry out satan’s name every now and then with such desperation, such passion that he almost wished it was his name rolling off your tongue. that he was the one making you feel pleasured. lucifer’s free hand curled into a fist, the papers beneath his palm crinkling at the movement. the tent in his pants grew with every sound you made, erotic images of you clouding his mind; imagining the way your brows furrow in pleasure, lips parted, completely lost in lust.
lucifer’s heart pounded against his chest, the half-done report before him sprawled on his desk, already forgotten. “satan. . what will i do with you. . ?” his voice was quiet but it seethed with fury. he knew his younger brother disliked him but not to the extent of fucking you right outside his private study. lucifer didn’t exactly know what satan gained from . . this but he wasn’t surprised with how territorial his brother was. especially when it came to you. the thuds of the door mixed with your heated moans engulfed lucifer’s ears. he didn’t even notice his eyes were closed—relishing in your sounds—until he snapped them open, startled from the wooden ink pen breaking in half from the tight grip.
dropping the broken pen on the desk, he leaned back into his chair, placing a forearm atop his closed eyes while the other rested on his thigh. it tingled. his palm tingled against his clothed thigh, as if urging him to do something about the growing problem at the apex of his legs—urging him to relieve himself with the help of your sounds. it wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? merely fisting himself at the thought of you wasn’t going to be the most sinful thing he’s done. lucifer had already committed the gravest sin of his life, it led to his downfall. this is nothing.
back in the library, your soft moans didn’t satisfy satan, he needed more from you. removing his hands from the shelf behind you, satan snaked them down to your ass, palms flat against the heated bare skin. a string of loud moans and curses left your parted lips as he bounced you on his cock. “o-oh my—fuck . .! aah! just like that, satan!” “y-yeah? you like that?” satan’s lips ghosted over your own before sealing you into a kiss. the kiss was messy, spit coating the corners of your mouths, teeth clashing—he chased your parted lips with every bounce of your body. satan made sure not to swallow your whimpers down, he needed lucifer to hear how good he was making you feel. he needed lucifer to know that he’s the only one who can make you moan like this.
your eyes rolled to the back of your head, bottom lip trapped between your teeth from pure bliss. the slight change in angle enabled his cock to reach much deeper into you, allowing you to feel every ridge when you clenched around him. satan’s cock had a slight curve to it, and the way it repeatedly hit your cervix over and over again made it more pleasurable—sending electrifying shocks up your spine. goosebumps formed under the fourth-born’s lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and down the side of your sweaty neck—sucking and biting at the supple skin, leaving a hues of dark red and purple. satan marvelled at the masterpiece peppered on your skin before licking a long, flat stripe up your neck and nibbling at the lobe of your ear.
he didn’t shy away from groaning directly into your ear, harsh pants escaping his parted lips, mixed with broken, endless praises. satan knew the effect his voice had on you, especially when he sung praises to you—he didn’t miss the way you squeezed around him with every praise muttered into your ear. he cursed at the pleasure, a heated gasp and a desperate whisper of your name coming from him. this spurred him on, harshly bouncing you on his cock with all his strength—you swear he’s about to leave handprints on your ass with how hard he’s gripping them.
it was getting too much, you could feel the coil deep in your stomach beginning to unravel. your body grew limp from pleasure, simply leaning onto satan’s front and letting him have his way with you. all you could really do was cry out his name and run your nails down his clothed back. satan groaned, relishing at the way your moans travelled straight to his ear—specs of white slowly clouded his vision, and his fingers dug into the supple flesh of your ass. he was close. “s-satan—ngh! fuck fuck fuck! ‘m cumming!” broken shallow pants left your lips. holding his emerald gaze, lids heavy with lust, “that’s it—haah! let go for me, my darling.” satan breathed out, knees buckling from pleasure. he was close too.
leaning against the other side of the door was lucifer, pants unbuttoned, and pulled down just enough to take his cock out. his wrist between was between his teeth to muffle moans as he fisted his cock to your sounds. it was heavenly, even the angels up at the celestial realm couldn’t compare to the way your voice sounded. he let out harsh breaths, each one shaky from how his fingers curled around his hard cock. lucifer teased the sensitive slit with his thumb, knees almost giving in from the immense pleasure. with his back against the door, he could hear things much better—the skin slapping, the wet noises, the heated gasps, all of it. how lewd but lucifer didn’t care, he had one thing in mind: cumming. he sped up the pace, synching it with your shallow pants and hoping to reach his orgasm the same time as you.
both of you sung in unison, cries of pleasure filling the entire library as you reached your orgasm. your legs tightened around satan’s waist, every muscle in your body turning taut as shocks of hot, white pleasure ran throughout your body, making your toes curl. satan let out one last cry of your name before sheathing his cock deep inside you and letting go—thick ribbons of white shamelessly painting your insides as he came. he rode out both your orgasms by giving you shallow thrusts, fucking his cum deeper, and earning a small whimper from you.
lucifer couldn’t believe himself—he came to the sound of you desperately moaning his younger brother’s name. white, hot liquid dripped coated his digits and down to his wrist; chest heaving up and down, attempting to catch his breath. lucifer stayed that way for a while, leaning against the door to try and compose himself as his head spun with pleasure. his lust-clouded mind soon cleared, pleasure that coursed through his body faded into fury. he was seething with rage—enough for satan to smell the scent of wrath. his brother dared to disrespect his private space, not only that but also by performing such a brazen act.
he knew. lucifer knew this was just to spite him, that was part of satan’s personality—to defy, and vex him. it was fine, he handled everything satan threw his way but using you? oh, that’s a whole different story. lucifer felt like satan has got him wrapped around his finger with how he practically jumped at the opportunity to fist himself to your sounds. it mocked him—putting him in his place, and letting him know that he was never going to experience the pleasure of being inside you because you were satan’s.
satan smirked into the kiss as he caught a whiff of the familiar smell that emanated from the other side of the door—the smell of wrath. the essence that he was more than familiar with; the essence that embodied his very own existence. pulling away from the kiss, his emerald eyes traced your features, giving your sweaty forehead a chaste kiss, “you did so well.” satan breathed, eyes glimmering with adoration. you didn’t miss the hint of mischief behind it, though.
but before you could reply, satan parted his lips to speak once again, a smug look on his handsome face,
“isn’t that right, lucifer?”
#₊˚ෆ YUE WRITES!#satan#obey me#satan smut#satan x reader#satan x you#satan x y/n#obey me smut#obey me x reader#obey me x you#obey me x y/n#smut#mdni
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Honey Girl. Chapter Four.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.
Word Count - 5k
Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
You can't breathe.
It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.
You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.
Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.
A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.
"Sweetheart?"
It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.
"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."
She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.
"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."
She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.
"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"
You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.
"Everything's such a mess, Mama."
She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.
"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."
You take a shaky breath before replying.
"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."
She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.
"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."
"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"
You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.
"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."
"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."
"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"
You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.
"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."
"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."
A pause.
"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."
"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."
He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.
"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."
You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.
"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."
"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."
"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."
You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.
Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.
"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."
"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."
"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"
"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."
"Love you, baby girl."
"Love you too. Both of you."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.
It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.
The beach.
You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.
You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.
You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.
"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"
He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.
"Bucky, please!"
He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.
"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.
You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.
"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.
"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."
He looks at you in disbelief.
"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"
You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.
"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"
"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"
"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me from what?"
"From blowing your life up for me!"
You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.
"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.
"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."
He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.
"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."
When he doesn't say anything, you continue.
"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."
You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.
"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"
"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"
You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.
"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."
Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.
"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."
"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."
"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."
Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.
"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."
"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."
"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."
"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."
You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.
"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.
"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."
You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.
He doesn't let go the whole way home.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky takes you to his house.
You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.
It's overwhelming.
Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.
You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.
It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.
You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.
"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."
"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."
A pause.
"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"
"You do?"
"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."
"Tea sounds good. Please."
You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.
"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."
You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.
J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.
The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.
Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.
"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"
You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.
When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."
"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."
"Mine too," you laugh softly.
It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.
"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."
"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."
"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.
You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.
"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"
Your voice cracks just saying the word.
"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."
"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."
"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."
"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."
Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.
"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"
He takes a deep breath, and continues.
"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."
You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.
"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"
"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."
Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.
"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.
"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."
"All the time in the world."
You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.
You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.
"So you'll go."
"I'll go."
"And I'll stay."
"You'll stay."
"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."
You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The happiness is starting to seep through.
You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.
You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.
"Bitch!"
You know who it is instantly.
"Hi, Lacie."
"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"
"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"
"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"
You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.
"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."
"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"
You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.
"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"
"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."
She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.
You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"
You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.
"I don't know."
"Bullshit."
You turn to look at her.
"What?"
"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"
There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.
"I had my Tethering."
Silence.
She's processing.
"What?!"
"Yeah."
"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"
"It's... complicated."
There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.
"Who is it, babe?"
You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.
"Bucky."
Her jaw drops.
"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"
"That's the one."
"Oh. My. Fucking. God."
"Yeah."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"This is complicated."
"Yeah."
"Aw, babe."
She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.
"Does anyone else know?"
"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."
"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."
"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.
"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."
"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."
"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."
You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.
"Where is he tonight?"
"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."
You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.
"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"
"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You've lost track of exactly where you are.
You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.
The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.
"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.
"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"
Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.
"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"
"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."
"Jesus Christ."
"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.
The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.
"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"
You nod.
"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."
"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.
"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.
"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."
You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.
"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."
You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.
Bucky.
His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.
You're snapped back to reality by Sam.
"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."
"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"
She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.
You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.
You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.
"Hi."
"Hi, honey baby."
You smile softly at the nickname.
"What are you doing here?"
"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"
"I got dragged to a girls night."
He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.
"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."
"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."
"Cosmic karma," you whisper.
The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.
"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."
"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."
You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.
"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."
A smile. A pause.
"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."
You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.
"Bye, Buck."
"Bye, pretty girl."
You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.
Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.
He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.
A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.
"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.
"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."
"Goodbye, honey girl."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.
Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.
Let the happiness seep through.
tag list part one -
@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk
#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x reader smut#dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader#dadsbestfriend!bucky#dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes#sebastian stan#dbf!bucky barnes x reader#Honey Girl#soulmate!bucky barnes#dbf!bucky barnes#dad's best friend bucky barnes#soulmate!au#soulmate!bucky barnes x reader#dbf!bucky#bucky fluff#soulmate au
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Well now I think you should totally give us a version of Somnophilia where L gets woken up to female reader giving him a blowjob which leads to drowsy early morning sex.
Only if you want to though ^^
Sleeping Beauty pt. 2 - L Lawliet x Fem!Reader: Morning Sex
Author's Notes: This has been in my asks for MONTHS. I think it is time :0. I'm very sorry that I haven't been writing as many fics lately, I have been very very busy. I hate it ;(
MINORS DON'T INTERACT
Warnings: fem-reader, somnophilia/morning sex, smut (18+), oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, a cheesy joke at one point that ruins the mood, cowgirl position, reader doesn't cum but implied to after the story, not proofread
Notes about the reader: female reader, described as having small hands
Extra note: I realize I lied and originally said there were no pronouns used and totally forgot that he uses a gendered term at the end. I'm so sorry!!!!
The heat of the rising sun cracked on L's face, contrasting with the cool breeze of the room's AC. L was known for his insomniac drive, but even he was human. After many days of not sleeping, he'd start to see shadowy figures out of the corner of his eye and occasionally the sound of the bell would pay a visit. That's when he knew he had to sleep. He usually would doze off and like the snap of a finger wake up again, only it would somehow be over half a day later.
The heat of the sun on his face was comforting, considering every other part of his body, especially his feet, was so chilly that he felt like rotting in this bed. The bed that you insisted he sleeps in, otherwise he would've been out in his desk chair and it would likely fall over at some point.
The sleep-drunk and chilly state he was in was so heavy that he had hardly noticed that another part of his body was feeling warm. And wet. He recognized the feeling well, and the mouth that was attached. He peeked down to see just as he suspected.
L never grew tired of seeing you. Through all the hyperboles he told you about how stunning you were, somewhere in there was a genuineness that he struggled to accept. Not because he didn't care for you, but because he did so much. So much that he was afraid something abrupt would eventually happen and he'd lose you, and lose this connection that he secretly craved.
Though, those deep-seated worries could surely wait. He looked down through lidded eyes, watching as you had your small hand wrapped around the base of his cock and trying your best to accommodate his cock in your mouth. Your eyes were also lidded with your eyelashes looking beautiful as you traveled your soft lips against his length. He could tell that you hadn't even noticed that he was awake.
As you trailed your tongue up his cock with your eyes still closed, he sighed and let his head fall back onto the pillow. You continued your movements up and down his cock, pulling back his foreskin to get to the sensitive skin under.
"A-ah!" L shuddered quietly. His sudden noise startled you and your mouth moved off of him with a quick "pop". He grunted at the absence of your mouth and looked down at you. The sight of your flushed, wet lips and alertness struck a chord in him, making his cock throb under your hand.
"Is this your way of getting me back?" he chuckled, reaching his hand down to pet your hair.
You grinned shyly with your answer, "An eye for an eye."
Without giving him many options to respond, you continued bobbing your head on his cock. You used your tongue to slide along his base as you guided yourself. L's leg jolted slightly at the sensitivity, and he continued to sigh in pleasure while gently holding onto your scalp.
"Fuck, y/n.." he whispered under his breath.
"Mhm~"
You were certainly eager, though you felt your throat struggle as you attempted to take all of his cock down. You tried to be pornographic, but your gag reflex soon kept you humble and you choked unexpectedly.
You moved away from his cock and coughed, holding the back of your hand to your mouth to conceal yourself. L felt himself grow even more aroused at your attempts to please him beyond your comfort, and the tears that wallowed from it. Though, he was not going to tell you that.
"Hey, how about you come up here, hm?" L rubbed your head, looking at you now with his 69% awake face. You nodded and crawled up to rest beside him.
"I wanted to finish that," you say, disappointed in yourself.
"That's alright. Practice makes progress. I don't want you to hurt yourself," L reassured you, placing his hand at your waist to pull you closer. He kissed your cheek, which was hot to the touch. "Let's try something different."
He pulled at your t-shirt, exposing your bare breasts to him and shortly after, your panties as well.
"Can I ride you?" you ask.
"Hm?" L questions, still tired. "Oh. Yes, of course. Do as you wish, darling."
You beamed him a smile and steadily rested yourself on top of him. You worried if you were heavy, considering he was noticeably frail and light. L seemed to be able to tell what you were thinking as you looked puzzled on top of him.
"You're alright. Keep going."
Taking his cock in your hand, you adjusted yourself upwards and slowly began sinking down on him.
"Mmm.." L tilted his head back, absolutely enthralled by the view.
You moaned as well, moving yourself to grind on top of his cock, feeling up your sensitive cunt. L's hands rubbed up from your thighs to your hips, relishing in your wet pussy and the way your body moved on top of him. Your body was enough on its own to make him pre, but the lust on your face, lust that he knew was for him, made him feel better.
The sounds filling the room were overwhelming. You could both feel yearning waves of pleasure riding through your bodies, engrossed by each other's sex. Your body's rhythm bouncing on top of him made you feel incredible, with L's face flushed pink and a bit of sweat covering his forehead.
"Mmfh..y/n, I'm close," he groaned, gripping onto your waist. He pulled you down onto him each time you lifted up, trying to feel your sleeve as much as he could.
"You can. Please cum for me.."
More moans and whines exited your throat as the sensation of his cock, hands, and sounds drove your libido rampant. And L could say the same for you.
"Mmmm~!" you squealed out in pleasure. L lost composure and you could feel his hips thrust up into you as he shook.
"Awh.." His hands gripped your sides as he came deep and heavy in you, his body falling limp otherwise as he remained inside of you as you both tried to recover.
"You're incredible," he hummed with a gentle smile. You giggled and lifted up, falling down beside him. You snuggled your arms around him and gripped onto his shirt (he kept it on, he does a lot during sex).
"No you," you retaliate.
"Mhm, if you say so," he looked over at you holding him close and placed a kiss to your temple. "You didn't cum."
"Oh."
"Let me fix that," he rubbed your shoulder as he said so.
"You don't have to," you say and his fingers already begin trailing in between your legs.
"Please, indulge me. Besides, as you said, "an eye for an eye." What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?"
"A normal boyfriend," you joked.
"Well, I've never been known to be normal. Neither have you. Be a good girl and let me play with you, alright?
Here's a song that's appropriate for this fic lol
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summary — in which the neighbor becomes a bystander in an explicit window show by infamous artist geto suguru.
warning readers discretion is advised ⸻ female reader, female anatomy described, exhibitionism, oral (suguru receiving), masturbation (f.solo), drug usage/drug consumption (weed), voyeurism, artist!geto suguru, if you squint a lil bit–you may see hints of dom!suguru, takes place in the same verse of my rockstar!choso fic, minors do not interact
sticky note from deja — one of my babies that i hold close to my heart. a repost from my old blog—only the girlies who followed my blog 2 years ago remember this gem. completely ahead of its time.
The large window was something you had to get used to. You thought about putting curtains up, but you adored how the natural sunlight gleamed into your newest condo. Or the fact that you had a perfect view of the apartment across from you. You weren’t even aware that someone lived in the apartment until you were near the window and saw a male figure carrying art supplies. Your curious eyes squint to get a better look at the person, but you just couldn’t see that far.
As you ate dinner alone, you would find yourself peeping at the man across from you. He always seemed to be cooped up in his artwork. Rubbing his hands that were covered with paint onto his sweatpants or ripping a piece of paper out from his sketchbook. You found yourself wanting to get a closer look, intrigued to get a closer look at the mysterious man. So you brought a pair of binoculars. Cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realize you were a peeping Tom. How desperate could you be to invade a man’s privacy like this?
One evening when you were twisting and turning in your bed, you gave up trying to sleep. Your feet dragged across the wooden floors towards your kitchen to make your favorite tea that usually helped you fall asleep. As you walked by the huge window where the moon illuminated inside your place, your eyes nearly popped out of your head seeing the view. Your hands frantically picked up the binoculars as you looked directly towards the artist’s apartment. There he was sitting in one of his living room chairs, a rolled blunt in between his lips as another woman was in between his legs. Your heart pounded in your chest watching his fingers comb through his long jet black hair as the woman’s head bobbed up and down on his cock.
You kept mumbling to yourself that this felt so wrong. But your eyes couldn’t pry away from the sight. The way he inhaled and exhaled while a smoke cloud swirled above him as he held the rolled substance in his hand. His other hand was placed on the back of the woman’s head moving with her movements. He was enjoying the wonderful feeling of being on cloud nine due to the weed he was consuming and then being brought back down from his high due to a woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. You felt the growing heat in between your thighs as you put the binoculars down, your hands growing sweaty at the thought of what you just witnessed. You wanted to close your eyes and hopefully, when you opened, you were just hallucinating…dreaming maybe. High off the same thing, the artist was smoking. When you brought the binoculars back to your eyes, your heart seemed to drop in your chest. There he was, the artist giving you a sly wave. If you squint hard enough, you would even admit that he was giving you some cocky smirk.
He knew you were watching.
You watched through the binoculars as he gently nudged the woman off him. The woman’s face was covered with her own saliva as he gripped at her hair dragging her closer to the huge window just so you can get a better look. Your heart seemed to beat faster as you tugged one of your dining room chairs closer to the window, your thighs clamped shut to ignore the ache from your pussy that was begging for attention. As your eyes peeped through the binoculars once more, the woman continued to suck the artist off. His rolled blunt was in between his lips as he would toy with the woman’s brunette hair, eventually putting it in a ponytail to stop her saliva from colliding with her hair.
“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, the little things like that turned you on. You couldn’t help but play with the band of your pajama shorts. You were aware that if he knew you were watching, he could most likely see you.
You would put the binoculars down for a second as you tugged your shorts down. You stepped out of them letting them decorate your wooden floors as you sat back down in the chair you pulled up. Your eyes once again peeked through the binoculars once you picked them back up. The artist’s large hand was placed on the window keeping his balance from the sensational pleasure he was receiving.
Your eyes peered at the man as his head fell back in complete bliss. Seeing the way his hips thrust into the woman’s mouth caused your fingers to climb into your panties. Your fingers rubbed at your folds, shocked at the fact that just by being a peeping Tom, you’ve grown wet. Brain rotting with the thoughts of the artist in the other building as you massaged your own cunt, your other hand gripping at the binoculars to get a perfect view of the artist.
Your lips parted slightly to let out a soft whimper as your fingers made a circular motion on your clit that was begging to be touched. The sight of the artist getting a blowjob from another woman caused you to be soaked below if only you were the one whose lips were wrapped around his cock. The thought of it caused you to push two of your fingers inside to feel around your damp walls. Your fingers stroked eagerly to hit that one spot that caused your toes to curl up in pure bliss. Binoculars glued to your eyes as you watch the artist stare in your direction. A smirk on his face as he would quickly put the blunt he was smoking out. You watched as his muscles flex at each movement the brunette made on his dick. Your teeth grind against your lower lip as you remove your fingers from yourself. Your own wetness glistened your fingers that now were rubbing at your clit.
You watched as the artist’s hips thrust forward. The brunette on the floor grasped at the rug under her knees, trying to hold her balance due to the sudden aggression from the man in front of her. Saliva dripped on the floor and on the brunette’s lap as tears trickled down her cheeks. The actions you were viewing caused you to rub even faster; you could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen. You watched as the artist’s head fell back as the brunette-haired woman used her hands to massage his shaft. Mimicking his motions as your head also fell back and once again insert your fingers to push around your wet walls. Your imagination lets you wonder and wish that the artist’s fingers were inside you, edging you on bit by bit. A moan hitched from the back of your throat as your vision was getting blurry. The last sight through the binoculars you caught a glimpse of before you were pushed into your orgasm was the artist removing himself from the woman’s mouth. A mixture of his cum and the brunette’s saliva dripped off the artist’s cock.
The binoculars clattered to the ground once you felt your walls clutch around your fingers. Your chest rose up and down as you seemed to slump in the wooden chair you were sitting in. Sitting in your own pool of wetness, you could see that the artists had also finished up. The girl who was blowing him off was walking out of the living room to clean herself up, her face a sloppy mess as she licked her lips of any cum that spilled out her mouth. You quickly grabbed the binoculars, your cheeks steamed with embarrassment as you couldn’t even believe the action you’d just done. You see him staring right back at you when you peek through them to end your night. He had a grin on his face as he gave you a wave right before he turned his living room light off, most likely to go join the woman he just face-fucked.
You placed the binoculars down and started to clean the mess you made. Your mind is still racing due to the actions you just committed. It was such a new thing, and your friends wouldn’t even believe you if you told them what you did. You pushed the chair back into the dining space of your condo and eventually went to shower. Praying that the shower's steam would push out the thoughts of the artist living rent-free in your mind.
The following morning, you seemed to have dozed off on your living room couch last night. A fluffy blanket tugged on your body, and your television was on. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you seemed to begin remembering the following night's events. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you jolted up, going towards the window. You couldn’t see the artist walking around his apartment, nor did you see the brunette woman that was wrapped around his cock. But you did see something. You grabbed your binoculars, peeping through them for one last time, and your lips parted to let out a scandalous gasp.
There stood in the living room, close to the large window that the artist once was using as support last night, a painting. A painting so explicit that it caused you to place your hand on your chest in disbelief. The painting was a painting of you last night. On the canvas was an explicit painting of you masturbating at the view of him. You couldn’t help but notice the details he put into his work, especially considering that you live in an apartment building across from his. He had to have such a vivid imagination to create such a piece.
And in the corner, you saw his signature in black paint.
Geto Suguru.
The artist’s name was Geto Suguru.
#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#geto smut#female reader#anime smut#anime x reader#black reader#angelshubnetwork#⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈
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Heart of the Sea
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader
Genre: angst, romance, adventure, pirate!au, royalty!au
Content Warnings: weapons, graphic depictions of violence, blood, mentions of drowning, prostitution, depictions of parental abuse, torture, drugging, alcohol, death, eventual smut, unhealthy relationship dynamics/toxicity, they're pirates and not the peter pan silly goofy kind.
reader warnings: reader has breasts, long hair but i try not to describe more than length, she/her pronouns, and referred to as "princess"
Length: ~22k
Note: ITS FINALLY HERE!! longest fic I've ever written. my pride and joy. this is a dark fic and i tried to make the warnings as clear as possible. the romance is a slow burn. please do not interact if you may be triggered! take care of yourself first!
extra warning: MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY! You will be hard blocked!
read more here
Old Friends
Salt water on the stale air caresses your senses awake, rousing you from your deep slumber as the gentle rocking of the tide tempts you to return to its depths. In the belly of the ship, only the gentle flame of an oil lantern hanging from the ceiling illuminates the dark closet you call your room. Just wide enough that your palms lay flat against each wall when your arms are extended, deep enough to hang a hammock for restless dozes through the night.
Something is wrong.
A ship full of thieves, criminals, and other degenerates never quiets to an eerie silence such as this. The lap of the ocean at the wooden sides of the vessel drowns most noise but she seldom comes away with a clean sweep like she does currently.
Something is very very wrong.
Twisting out of the hammock, your feet hit the floor with a slash. The black oily surface of water reflects in the dim light, consuming the entirety of your boots, soaking up to the middle of your shins. A quick survey of your space shows your only possession, a small leather trunk, bobbing in the corner.
The real prizes decorate your figure. Daggers tucked in their sheaths, littering their usual hiding places: one tucked under each cuff of your shirt, the largest one strapped to your thigh, one in the lining of each boot, and several strapped to the leather belt across your chest. Your revolver sits on your hip, golden neck polished, loaded like you left it before dozing off.
The door to this room is one of the few that sits less than an inch off the ground. Meaning the water in here is likely nothing compared to what's beyond the thick piece of wood. You need to get out of here. Out of this room and out to the deck.
Steadying yourself, you plant your feet in a fighting stance, preparing for the force that will race in once the door opens. Barely a turn of the knob, a click of the latch and the door is blown wide; smacking into the wall behind as the sea rushes in, informing you that the water beyond is up to your thigh as it threatens to knock you off your feet.
The worn wood of the threshold threatens to rip your nails as you hold on for dear life. If you fall into the flood, it's over. You won’t be able to get back up, crushed under the weight of the ocean’s will. It's the first thing you learn on a ship: the sea takes and takes and she doesn’t return what she’s claimed no matter how much you plead. And if you do get away, she’ll come to collect eventually.
Arms straining and thighs burning, you force forward against the onslaught. By the time you exit the confines of your room , the water is at your chest. Caressing your collar bones, lapping at your neck like a crude noose. The jostle of your movement claps waves into your face.
I’ve got you now. The sea whispers. Finally ran out of borrowed time, little bird.
Salt water burns your nose with each bob of your head as you work towards the stairs leading up and out. The tang floods your mouth, pooling in the back of your throat; choking you, silencing your scream for help.
Give up. The seductive voice purrs in your ear. Come to me. Let me give you oblivion.
When the ocean finds home in your lungs, you let her take what she’s owed.
A knife to the throat is a less than friendly way to greet your second but Wonwoo should have expected it. His mistake for standing too close to wake his captain.
Wild eyes stare up at him, cataloging his features as the cool metal point pinches his airway. Sharp eyes, firm mouth, scar from temple to chin. He doesn’t flinch as you press a little firmer, forcing the dagger into the pale skin of his neck. Finally, safe triggers in your head.
Still, it takes a few seconds before your muscles relax enough to let you retract the small piece of steel.
“You’re needed on the deck.”
A shuddered breath is all the response he gets before you wave him out.
Wonwoo refuses to move, pointed gaze burning yours.
“Handle it.” You bark.
“Told me not to make deals in your name.”
That peaks your interest.
“Who is it?”
“Stragglers from a sinking ship.” He reports. “Seokmin pulled them from the wreckage.”
“Of course he did.”
If Wonwoo was a stupider man he’d mistake the exasperation in your tone for fondness. But he’s not. If Seokmin was less valuable then his ass would have been at the bottom of the sea months ago. But the strikes against him are stacking higher and higher, and your goodwill is running out.
Today, you’re in one of your better moods. Seokmin will probably end up back in the wreckage with the sorry sailors he saved if none of them prove to be of any use. That is, if you let them take a breath after finding out just who exactly is standing above you.
“What colors?”
Their allegiance. The flag had been long gone by the time the three men were pulled from the chilly depths. But the brands on their necks tell it just the same. A circle with a vertical line through the middle.
“Krakens.”
You're out of your bed and up the stairs before Wonwoo can blink.
Face cold as the winter wind that screams from the north, you hone in on your target the second you're in the daylight. Seokmin doesn’t see it coming as you round on him. The brass knuckles swirling around your fingers rips a sizable gash across his cheek as the crack of your hand rings out, silencing your audience.
He falls to his knees as his own hands move to protect his face, a pained “Fuck!” leaving his lips.
“You’re lucky I don't shoot you!” You spit, lips curled and teeth bared.
Garnet blood dripping from his chin to the wooden planks only furthers your disdain for the man in front of you. The gun on your hip sings like a siren but you have bigger problems to deal with. Seokmin won’t get the bullet with his name engraved on it today but tonight he should pray to whatever powers be that it finds another target first.
Whirling to the three strangers backed against the main mast, you eye them up and down. Wonwoo was right to wake you, because looking you in the eye with a shit eating grin is the demon you’ve been avoiding for years. The reason for your nightmares. The reason for the lump of hardened charcoal where a beating heart should be.
“Miss me?” he smirks.
In a flash, the revolver is in your hand. The shot hits dead center of the scant inches between his feet, smoke rising from the hole embedded in the surface of the deck. Whisps still rise from the muzzle of the gun as you cock the second bullet and raise your arm to aim for his heart.
His cocky facade slips for a fraction of a second, but it pulls the infamous bloodthirsty smile to your lips.
“You’re a dead man, Jeonghan.”
The hesitant rap at the door rips your attention away from the creased parchment sprawled across your desk. Tallies of loots, debts, bribes, and more litter the ledger in tight neat script; providing nothing more than a swelling vein throbbing across your temple.
“Come in.” You beckon, eyes glued to your ledger.
Tracking his movements in your peripheral, Seokmin’s entire presence screams terror. He doesn’t dare look up when he cracks the door to your office open, barely enough for him to slip inside. Even the click of the latch is silent as he shuts it, releasing the twisted knob once it’s back home; attempting to make himself as small as possible, like a mouse trying to escape a snake’s nest. He knows it’s judgment day and he’s been found wanting. The weight of his sentence hangs around his heart where he just might find a bullet in the next few minutes.
“Sit.”
He isn’t a horrible crew member. Bad pirate? Absolutely. But he’s loyal as they come, works hard as anyone else with something to prove to the world.
Seokmin was a farmer's son. One of several and the last in line to inherit any crumb of wealth his family could ever offer. At least that's what he told everyone. On the Hydra, a person’s story was their own. You didn’t care who they were before they inked their loyalty onto the base of their skull, just that no one would come for them with a debt to settle while aboard your ship.
The farm hardened his body but his heart was soft as wax under a flame. In spite of the obvious flaw, it’s why he’s the best at collecting information. Pure face and a familiar warmth, naivety rolling off him in waves. A few cheap secrets swimming out his mouth, misinformed beliefs regarding the way the world worked spoken a little too loud and viola! Some fool would step up to the plate to correct him, spilling their guts on the table just before Seokmin’s knife spilled them on the floor.
Despite what he cost you in sanity, he’d been worth his weight in gold when it came to finding leads on loose lips. Sometimes even loose legs. The women at brothels adamantly refused to take the coin you padded his pocket with. Always sending him back hours later than expected with the familiar jingle of a full purse and an unmistakable swagger in his step. You swear the velvet pocket is sometimes heavier than when it left.
You deliberately drag your gaze up to Seokmin’s face, unhurried in pace, blinking lazily, almost sleepy. Jaw relaxed, and shoulders loose; your entire posture screams threat. Each of your crew needed a different captain when it came to reprimands. Soonyoung, eager to please and prove, suffered most with silent dismissals. Jihoon, the rare times he earned your ire, only responded to direct threats.
Seokmin’s master and executioner was guilt.
“Do you know how Wonwoo got his scar?”
Schooling your face into a neutral expression, you wait for his response. Providing nothing, refusing to allow him comfort in this moment.
Seokmin doesn’t raise his gaze from his worn leather boots as he mumbles, “No.”
“It was my fault.” You share, picking your nails as the weight of your admission settles. “I thought I was helping a kid escape some cons. Told her she could follow us to town but after that, she was on her own. Turns out she was leading us into a deathtrap. One of her little gang took a swing at Wonwoo’s face and almost took his eye with him. Luckily, Wonwoo got him first.”
Apparently, this was one of the rare instances Seokmin had the sense to stay quiet.
“He’d thought it was a bad idea, but I tried to help her anyway. Didn’t listen to his advice that some things need to be left to the fates.”
Standing from your desk, you snag the bottle of whiskey resting on the cluttered bookshelf behind you. One of the few luxuries you afford yourself. Pouring two glasses, you slide one across your desk to the frightened man before continuing.
“I didn’t listen, and he got hurt.” Your tone so sharp it bites with blood stained teeth. “Wonwoo almost lost his eye, Min. Tell me, what kind of shooter would he be with one eye?”
“Not a very useful one?”
“Just about as useful as a spy you’d be without your tongue.”
Seokmin’s pale face balks at the implication. Hands wringing in his lap, you think he might piss himself.
“I’m not in the business of charity so I say this once: pull another stunt like you did today, and I’ll have Shua make you wish I killed you this morning.” Sitting back into the ancient leather chair, you jut your chin hauntingly. “Understand?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Get out.”
The door clicks shut before your next breath.
Your head drops with a heavy thud against the wooden trim of your seat, eyes sliding shut. Holding the stretch of your lungs as you inhale, attempting to do the same to the stiff muscles corded around your shoulders as a squeak alerts you to a new presence.
“That went well.”
You don’t have the patience for Wonwoo's taunting tonight.
Sprawling in the now abandoned chair, he leisurely sips at Seokmin’s untouched glass of amber liquor before speaking again..
“I didn't almost lose my eye.”
“I fail to see how that's of importance.”
“Too many rumors flying around means someone will eventually ask for the truth.”
“Do let me know when they approach you, I’d pay good money to watch you stutter your way through the story.”
In truth, Wonwoo’s trademark scar came as the result of too much lager and a very short pier. You both were still fresh as spring lambs to the cruel world beyond the high walls of the marble palace, but quickly figured that anything you could use to your advantage needed exhaustion. The rumors you’ve stirred up around the jagged silver mark spanning half his face granted him a reputation beyond the edges of the ship, carried further by those who managed to escape your wrath.
Legends across the seas of the Viper’s second painted a terrifying character. Wonwoo’s quiet nature and intimidating features served to fan the flames further. He was mean with a blade, even meaner with a gun. Only those with a deathwish knowingly went toe to toe with him. Those unfortunate enough to cross his mark were dead before they could even hear the cock of the pistol.
When Wonwoo doesn’t answer, you continue. “If anything, you should be thanking me.”
“Oh?”
“How many fights have you gotten in since I started telling people your scar was because you made a deal with a daemon?”
“Several.”
“Which is certainly less than otherwise.”
“Certainly.”
“And I don’t even get a thank you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” He grovels, cocking his head forward.
“I’m not in the mood for your poor humor.”
“You seemed to be generous with Seokmin.”
Knocking back the remnants of your cup before pouring another drink, you respond. “When he fucks up and I let Shua cut him to a million pieces he’ll see generous as I am, I’m good on my threats.”
That’s why they called you the Viper. Lethal. Calculating. Even when things don’t appear to be in your favor, luck seems to find you as a friend. Everything could be a lesson or another method for you to strengthen your alliances.
Even Seokmin’s fatal mistake of pulling Jeonghan on board would serve a purpose.
“Speaking of threats. What are we doing with those Krakens?”
“Eager to take a swing?” You jest, ignoring the sheen clinging to his lips.
“I have no interest in hearing them screaming at all hours for the next week. Kill Jeonghan, dump the other two and let the sharks claim them.”
“But then Jeonghan won’t see how we greet old friends. The other two are insurance.”
There isn’t enough time in the universe for you to deal Jeonghan what you owe him. The hunger to see him suffer would have terrified you in a past life. Even the hit on Seokmin this morning came with a swallowed trickle of sympathy after your rage cooled to a smolder, but no room for regret on the sea. Strike first and strike hard. You’ll pay for it all in the end and guilt wouldn’t spare you.
But what grows in you now isn’t concerned with what you’ll face on the other side of the light. The poison you’ve collected in your veins for years pleads for the chance to fruit in his blood and stop his cold heart.
“You think he cares that much?”
“He’s captain, they’re his crew.”
“So you’d squirm if Seokmin got under the knife?”
“Ask me in a few days.”
Silence finds the space between you like a familiar companion. Wonwoo is the last piece of home you have. You’d grown up together, run away together. Found each other again and again, no matter how long you ended up separated. A friend like him was difficult to come by when everyone had a price. Wonwoo’s turned out to be too high to ever hang you out to dry, and you the same.
“Tell Jihoon I want us at port by midday tomorrow.”
A humorless breath leaves his nose, “Oh, he’ll be thrilled.”
“I don’t pay him to be happy, I pay him to get my ship where I want it to go.”
You’re snappier than usual. The fury you feed in front of the crew protects you from the whispers and speculations. You’d won the vote fair and square when your processor had been ousted, a man nothing more than a relic from the old days, lazy and more than willing to let others do his dirty work while he soaked in riches. You’d sewed patches of discontent after years spent aboard, earning favors and friends along the way, mastering every job to be done on the once dingy ship.
Tentative friendships were easily gained, but respect? Respect was on the bidding block everyday. It wasn’t enough to stain your hands whenever needed; the price for respect was razored words and padded pockets.
Unfortunately, Wonwoo earned his fair share of both.
“When we get to the pier, we’re dropping Chan.”
“What?” Now anger heats his tongue.
“He’s not making progress.”
“Guns take time.”
“I've got enough mediocre gunslingers, I don’t need another.” Your focus is on the parchment again, searching for the cost the youngest member of your crew is having you foot. “He’s wasting ammunition and gunpowder as if it falls from the sky.”
“No.”
Occasionally Wonwoo argued with you, pressed you to see different perspectives but rarely did he disagree completely. Even more rare was flat out refusal.
“Pardon?”
“We’re not dropping Chan. He’s better than Vernon, and better than I was when I’d been doing it as long as he has.”
Your eyes slink to his, slow and purposeful. A lioness toying with her prey, gaze sharp as the knife you raised to his throat earlier that morning. Head tilting to the side, you open your mouth with a venomous smile.
“So when he catches up, I drop you?”
The threat is empty as the decanter perched on your desk, but there is always a sliver of Wonwoo’s heart that freezes at the possibility you’ll make good on it.
“You’ll never drop me.”
“After today, I might.”
The charade drops in an instant. Eyes closing once again, you scrub your face until stars burst against the black backdrop of your lids.
Nights like these rip open the place in your mind that rains endless questions. What if you remained in your little piece of the world? What if you accepted the frilly dress and silly parties? Allowed your father to make your marriage match as he saw fit for his own gains, a marriage to the cold Duke of Nas-Shost’s son or one of the brutish princes of Uspar. Perhaps you’d only be subjected to the violence of one man rather than dozens. Certainly there'd be less blood, fewer scars climbing your body like grotesque ivy. The warm arms of lavish life would embrace you, dull your mind till you were pliant as your peers. Produce babe after babe for whatever loveless man you’d been bound to, allowing nannies and wet nurses to care for your children while you indulged in cards and gossip like your mother.
Destined to be a mirror image of her dreamy smiles and distant eyes. A glance at your mother’s face showed her spirit miles away, blissful nothingness constantly clouded her features. Perhaps it was her own method of surviving your father.
She mindlessly prattled in the few hours you spent with her as a child, typically spewing tattles of the neighbors and other society ladies as if it was of great importance. Laughing at her own quips and snarks that you couldn’t quite grasp the humor of. Only one conversation of substance ever occurred amongst dainty tea cups and porcelain plates of biscuits and cake.
During one of the numerous lessons with your pious governess, Madam Atina, a hunched woman with a face like an old leather satchel; she’d hauntingly informed you everyone was born in the world with a cardinal flaw sealed in their soul. You’d run right to your mother, sharing the new knowledge with electrifying excitement. Her jeweled fingers brushed your hair as you sat in her lap, recalling the seven faults like it was an examination.
Your governess is right. She smiled.
What’s father’s? Pride. And yours? Envy. And me? You, my little bird, were born greedy as they come.
Barely seven at the time, you squealed as her fingers tickled your ribs, joyously unaware she bared your deepest secret so easily. But now, you understood why she always had a heavier hand in your upbringing than she had in your older sisters’.
From the moment you left the womb, you’d wanted. Even with every luxury available, any whim granted, you’d always been greedy for a different sort of satisfaction. A different life. What use was having anything if you needed the approval of another to get it? Even as a child you’d resented the way your father had the final say on your mother’s choices. On your sisters’. On yours.
Imagination taking you to the stables every morning, pulling the shy stable boy from his chores to appease your need for a new identity. Finding freedom in the far edges of the palace gardens, pretending you were soldiers on the front line between roses, using the bushes as cover before shooting make believe pistols at a fictitious enemy. Or two warring monarchs set to duel, branches becoming gilded swords as the day lilies provided their rapt attention. Sometimes you played pirates, forcing each other to walk the plank before breaking into maniacal giggles at the ridiculous accents you donned by the crystal lake.
The garden’s behind the estate remained a stage until your mother had you moved out of the nursery at twelve and into a private room down the hall to prepare you for balls and parties. New lady’s maids combed your hair up and tailored the hem of your dress down to brush the ground, signaling to everyone in court you were now of age. And then you were tasked with mastering a new kind of performance. The type that ends with your hands, neck, and crown covered in diamonds and your name on a contract to the highest bidder.
You and Wonwoo didn’t play anymore after that.
But now, even as misery loomed like a cloud over your head, at least you were alive with the knowledge that you created your own destiny. Now, the entire world is your stage, the gods your audience.
Wonwoo crosses to the door with a few long strides, the shuffle of his feet intentional to alert you to his movement.
“Make sure Hoshi checks on Seokmin. Don’t need his face getting infected.” You mumble into your glass, attention on the flame jumping from the black candle to the left of your desk. “And no food for our guests.”
“How long?”
“Three days, longer if they start fighting. Only enough water for them to stay alive.”
Wonwoo’s exit is silent but his absence prickles the back of your neck, threatening to rip you to shreds. You try to focus on the pop and crack of the fire burning in the hearth across the room. How your throat burns raw with another swig of booze. Even the habitual press of your thumb across the silken abalone handle of your revolver does nothing to numb the world inside your head.
Waves crash below the windows of your office as you cut through the endless sea, pounding surf singing their nightly hymn of the souls you’ve banished from this world. The haunting tune echoes louder with the knowledge that their master is shackled in the belly of your ship. An atonal ballad filled with the ghostly rattle of the chains crossed around his wrists and throat.
Ventparsk
Sunlight glares from the vast waves, the harsh beams attempting to blind you, as an infinite blue sky supplies nary a cloud of reprieve from its brutal warmth. You’d never speak ill of a scarce blessing such as the weather of today. Glittering open sea as far as the eye could see, not a single blip in sight save for the dark mountain rising from the horizon.
Your crew has stripped their torsos down to their scarred and inked skin, only keeping the dignity of pants as they trudge back and forth below your watch from the quarterdeck. Braving the threat of a scarlett backside rather than risk fainting over the sides of the ship and into the depths. The roughspun linen of your undershirt tears across your skin as wind breathes and snaps into the white sails above, propelling the vessel closer to the crowded harbor of Ventparsk.
Weeks at sea had depleted the stock of provisions and riled the crew. Only so much entertainment to be had when surrounded by nothing but endless ocean and air. Even you found the monotony of the days tiresome despite the never ending responsibilities of being captain. Drinking and merriment kept everyone content enough, card games as well before Soonyoung inevitably ran his mouth directly into someone’s fists. He might have maintained a tight ship under your command but when everyone gathered at night to loosen their limbs and cheer their minds, a hit on Soonyoung was fair play. Sometimes encouraged.
But the typical vices were no longer keeping their grumbles quelled. The gash on Seokmin’s cheek only fanned the flames higher. It was understood why you dealt him that hand, but their fondness for the newer member of your crew bred unconscious resentment. You’re not a physician but even you knew if you let the disease of discontent fester, it’ll kill the entire body.
The cure was simple enough. A few days wreaking havoc across dank gambling dens, cramped taverns, and numerous brothels in the great pleasure city would easily alleviate the tension rankling on board. Ventparsk opens its doors like an old friend to anyone with a few coins in their purse and your latest voyage ensured each of your crew would be welcomed like an emperor.
Ventparsk marina is a hodgepodge of every style ship and boat imaginable. Steel military ships from the cold north of Uspar tower above humble longships no doubt belonging to eastern traders of Truyso. Even oared ships from the dark days speckle through the thick rows of docks, Proera’s trademark. Your ship resembles one of the military fleet from Nas-Shost, swift and agile unlike the large square-rigged ships flying the blue and silver of the Islearain navy visible on the opposite end of the marina.
A cacophony of colors sail high above. The privateers and pirates aren’t stupid enough to announce their colors so boldly, but the armies foam at the mouth for a chance to intimidate the easily impressed. Amongst the other sheets flying in the wind, you recognize ally as well as foe. The sullen gray of the Usparian army here, a sheet rich maroon from Proera’s northern waters there. A rare flash of orange announces the Gulls, a band of Shostian mercenaries, are a long way from home. Even the maroon flag of the Seven Sirens flies high. If the Krakens had a ship to sail, the royal purple complete with a white circle and vertical slash would snap in the wind above all others. Cockiness bordering on stupidity, a bold challenge to anyone willing to follow them out of the harbor borders. But that tacky piece of cotton had been returned to the depths of the sea, finally resting where a Leviathan belongs.
The lush green flag with a golden ouroboros is hidden in the navigation room of the Hydra, far away from any prying eyes that may look your way. Men may be eager to have a public pissing contest, but you appreciated the fine art of minding your own business. The element of surprise and stealth could never be undervalued, only underappreciated.
The hodgepodge of pirate crews, merchants, and soldiers neighboring one another along the decrepit docks only exist in the assumed neutrality of the city. If you’re caught fighting in Ventparsk, breaking the delicate truce that exists within its borders, there is no trial. Your entire crew is sentenced to hang as gull food above the gate that separates the docks from the city; staked with an iron rod through one end and out the other. And anyone is willing to sell out those that defy the rules, eager to abide by the code for the guarantee of a good time without the cold sweat of a knife to the back.
After securing the Hydra, a portly man with watery eyes and a thick mustache waddles aboard. The worn olive green of his wrinkled uniform means he’s the customs master of this section of the marina.
He sidles up to Wonwoo, assuming his status of captain based on who can say what. Frustration lights a flame to simmer your blood, but it's better this way. The old men who run the ports won’t respond to a female captain, and if they do they’ll rip you off before finding a reason to banish you back to the open water.
“Cargo?”
“Nothing to sell.”
“Crew?”
“20.”
“Captives?”
“No, sir.”
“What’s the purpose of your visit?”
Wonwoo gives a lazy charming smile, “Just some men looking to enjoy the unique pleasures your lovely city has to offer.”
“Seems like you have something already on board.”
The desire to send a bullet through his skull swells riots but you reign her in. Last thing you need is to get your crew barred from the island city. Wonwoo would kill you himself.
Ignoring his comment, Wonwoo tosses the bag of coins at the officer. The old man fumbles to catch them but his assistant, a nimble tawny skinned boy who can’t be more than eleven, snags the jumbling coins before they hit the deck. In silence, they count and mark the toll in their book before smiling at the crew.
“Welcome to Ventparsk.”
You’ve tasked Wonwoo and his first mate, Seungkwan, with stocking up at the trading post. The younger man could barter with anyone and you only trust Wonwoo with the extra store of coins. It’ll take them the better part of the day to haul the crates down the docks and oversee the other crew organize them in the hold.
The night crew remains on board, dozing in hammocks strung between heavy cannons below deck in the berth to avoid the blaring sun. Jihoon remains on the quarterdeck, straw hat tucked low to cover his eyes; content to stay in his corner of the ship while others explore, never one to be tempted by the pleasure houses or bidding halls. The rest of the crew looks at him with pity for not lacking the desire to hand over his time to the intoxicating pulse of the city, but you know better.
Back home, Jihoon has a lady. He hasn’t seen her in years but sends her a stiff share of his wage at the end of every job. The few letters he’s received during his time on your ship are kept in a wooden cigar box tucked under scrolls of parchment in the navigation room just above your own quarters. You’re only aware because the box was stashed with an abandoned codex you’d needed regarding the islands dappling the eastern waters of Truyso. In haste, the small wooden trunk clunked to the floor, spilling several envelopes stamped with a teal wax seal. Skimming the first few words of swirling script, the woman was rather…descriptive in how much she missed him. Jihoon chose that moment to shuffle into the space, fuming as you gapped over his private collection of personalized smut.
Leaving the treasure of your heart in his capable hands, you stride through the rusted iron gate welcoming you to the much tamer southern district of Ventparsk.
Rickety buildings line the streets, each advertising their services. Thick crowds bubble out of rowdy taverns and into the street, patrons unashamed to imbibe so heavily under the midday sun. The mismatched symphony of music pouring from open windows and crevices in the slats to greet them, seduce them back inside. Scantily clad brothel workers curl around banisters and press out windows, beckoning customers with a curl of a finger and twitch of the lips. The independents work hard to lure those with less pocket change to the shaded alleyways for a quick tryst against the dirty walls. Perched on the corners of cross streets, conmen rob those stupid enough to get tangled in their cheap card tricks.
The kid pressing past you barely makes it a foot before you snatch their wrist in an iron grip. Whipping the little pickpocket back to your person, you twist their arm at an angle that’ll force it to break if they so much as breathe the wrong way. Anyone looking, and no one does, will see a dotting sister ushering their younger sibling through the crush of the crowd.
“Where I’m from, thieves lose their hands.” You snarl down at the grubby face glaring up at you.
“I didn’t take anything!” She cries, voice thick with faux tears under the tattered hood of her cloak.
Your other hand reaches into her pocket to retrieve the polished silver dagger usually kept strapped to your side, flicking it into view between you. The cheap piece of steel was worth next to nothing. Best way to keep your coin is to let a thief think they bested you by giving them an easy target, too hard to resist.
“Liars lose their tongues.”
The fury at being caught brands her features. She’s barely skin and bones, moth eaten velvet cloak weighing more than her but blazing in her eyes is fire. The same fire that burned in your own as you learned the ways of the streets when you’d first left the cushion of your father’s kingdom.
If you rat her out to the city guard she’ll be used as fish food. Or worse, one of the brothels will bid on her bond.
“Next time you wanna lift something, think about why it’s so easy before letting your hands get sticky.”
Retching her hand away, you brush her to the side, refusing to look at her face as you slip back into the crowd. She’ll find the coin you slipped in her pocket quick enough.
Each room of the Lion’s Den is draped in tacky swatches of gold and all variations of red. In this particular keep, a plush mattress is perched in front of the blazing fireplace. The garnet velvet bedspread trimmed with gold tassels clashes with the blush pillow cases, both jarring against the white oak bed frame and sheets of pale silk floating down from the bars. But the design of the room interests Wonwoo far less than the woman who inhabits it.
“How’s our little friend?” Yeseul calls over her shoulder.
She’s perched at her vanity, using the light of an oil lantern to carefully fix the greasy smudges of red staining her lips. Wonwoo isn’t sure why she’s bothering with it. He’s paid for the entire night, she might as well remove wretched stuff. Laying back in the satin sheets of her bed, he lets one arm prop up his head as he watches the woman he’s visited for years tsk over her reflection. The swirl of smokey incense hazing her figure.
Yeseul was a few years older than he, versed in the ways of the world and determined to educate the once bright eyed boy he’d been. She’d imparted him with the knowledge of how to pleasure a woman even though he’d only fallen into bed with one other person. Taught the value of secrets in this world. Most importantly, Yeseul was the one who let Wonwoo know that the desire and devotion he feels towards Y/N was love, not just friendship.
“As pleasant as a spring breeze.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Wonwoo.”
“That gunk doesn’t suit you either but I settle for it.”
“You don’t pay enough for me to remove it.”
“And that’s my fault? You try to send me back with half every time I visit.”
“You’re more of a friend than a customer at this point.”
“You’re growing soft.”
“Mingyu says the same.”
“He wrote you?”
“Bribed a guard to get a letter out. Probably had to bribe him to write it too since he never learned to read.”
Wonwoo doesn’t ask if Mingyu will get out of the Iron Isle. Even with the guarantee of a fair trial, it takes years, sometimes decades. More men die waiting than in the gallows at the base of the prison.
Yeseul isn’t a fool but she is a romantic. Consumed too many novels where ill suited love wins over all and anyone can be together if they just believe it. All wrapped up in a couple hundred pages. Her way of dealing with the ugly truths of the world. Yeseul is chained to the Lion’s Den the same way her lover is chained in prison. The same way Wonwoo’s heart will always be chained to his princess. Useless in hoping to be free.
“But she’s well?”
“A stretch of the word but I guess as content as she can be.”
“So you still haven’t told her.”
“If I was, do you think she’d allow me to run to your bed?”
“With how quiet you were earlier, I assumed it went poorly.”
“It would go poorly. Especially now.”
“Perhaps it's best to give her time.”
Wonwoo knows time isn’t what she needs. The only hope for anything beyond swift rejection would be a miracle performed by the gods themselves. If he were a smarter man, a stronger man, he’d stay away. Wouldn’t submit himself to the torture of her presence, her trust and reliance. But he’s not. Wonwoo is weak in all the ways it matters when it comes to Y/N. Ever since she walked into the stables when they’d both were barely knee high and demanded he submit himself to her friendship. He’s listened to every command since.
Few things in the world were certain but the one constant Wonwoo relied on was the sure way to lose Y/N was giving himself permission to want. Want her the way he has since they were teenagers, running away from curses of her father and his servitude and towards the unknown. Since she’d pulled him down into the hay in that dilapidated barn after too many swigs of the wine swiped from a merchant stall. Wonwoo never saw the smile she’d flashed him that night again. Bright and hopeful, a little shy as he covered her mouth with his own. Now the only stretch of Y/N’s lips carried a coldness, the gleam of teeth sadistic and sinister.
Hope is a fragile thing. Like a blooming spring flower just before the last frost, or a house of cards. Delicate. It has no place in this world he’s landed in. So Wonwoo doesn’t let himself hope for a chance to be free of the love in his heart. Accepts that in this life, there was never a chance for him to have Y/N the way he wants. Because the way he wants her fundamentally opposes who she is.
So Wonwoo allows himself the memories of before. Before they became Serpents, matching stains of ink at the base of their skulls. Before Jeonghan snatched her away; the scars marring her body nothing compared to what he’d done to her mind. Before Y/N found her way back, to him, to the crew, to the world of the living.
Memories of the palace and her uncanny talent for finding him wherever he was on the grounds. The way she snatched him away from whatever task he’d been charged with to play her silly games, allowing him to be a boy instead of an indenture. How she snuck into the servants quarters and into his bed the night Jeonghan finally came to visit the kingdom. When she called him her friend for the first time. When she’d let Wonwoo hold her to his chest, warming them both against the frigid air after laying each other bare.
“Time won’t change anything.”
Wonwoo can never have anything more than what he has now. So he settles his heart at Y/N’s feet, and lets his body find distraction in another.
Always privy to his moods, Yeseul crosses back to where he lies. Perching herself in his lap, her ebony robe splits open to show the creamy skin of her stomach, the soft swell of her breast peeking out from behind honey waves of her hair, long neck split with the ruby choker all girls at this pleasure house wear.
Maybe in another life, Wonwoo would still be a stablehand. In that life, Y/N would have married Jeonghan and the childhood friendship between a stable boy and the youngest princess of Iaslera was nothing but forgotten memories.
Yeseul’s finger traces from his lips to his chin, following the dip of his scar to his ear. It had taken him years to stop flinching when someone touched it, the sting of that rusted blade still haunting him. When her nail scrapes the hollow of his throat, Wonwoo shivers for an entirely new reason.
Flipping her beneath him, Yeseul’s flit of laughter tickles Wonwoo’s lips as he claims her mouth.
“Another.” You beckon the woman behind the mahogany counter, tilting your empty cup her way.
“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?” A disconnected voice murmurs too close to your ear, a waft of booze and snuff slipping around your cheek.
Rolling your eyes, the same dagger the orphan girl tried to claim is in your hand and pressed to the soft wood in a second. The presence behind you disappears when it catches the lantern light.
The Twin Star is one of the better taverns in this part of the city. Drinks are cheap enough, other patrons keep their heads down and the barmaids tend to turn a blind eye when one needs to implement less than friendly means to ward off drunkards.
“Keep it up and I’ll have to cut you off.” Inri snarks but fills your cup with brandy all the same.
“You’re a cruel woman.” You mutter, cradling the cool glass to your chest.
“They say the same about you.”
“I’m flattered.” you mumble with a mock salute, loopy smile splitting your mouth.
She leaves you with a sigh. You’ve been here all afternoon, hoping to drown your dread at the bottom of a bottle. So far, you’re failing.
For the first time in years, you have no desire to return to your beloved vessel. The warm fondness for the Hydra replaced with frigid unease. A drunken stupor is the perfect excuse not to go back, at least for the night. Even with the unbending laws of the island, an unaccompanied woman roaming the streets of Ventparsk was unlikely to make ten paces before she ended up pushed into an alley. One under the influence of several hefty pours of whiskey might make five if she’s lucky.
“There’s my favorite captain.”
You’re in no mood for company. Soonyoung must have been born under unlucky stars.
“Can a woman not enjoy a drink in peace?”
He’s in the chair next to you before you can object, signaling Inri to bring him a glass as well.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you this drunk before.”
“What are you doing here, Hosh?”
Soonyoung has the courtesy to look bashful. Just down the street is the theater you know he favors, the Temple, with dark mahogany walls and swaths of dark blue silk curtains hiding what takes place beyond the doors. The shanty building housed dozens of artists, dancers, and singers. Acrobats and fire tamers. Entertainers and actors. He had been one of them before you'd lured him away with promises of adventure and riches unknown to a poor merchant’s son. Everytime you stop at the isle he walks right back home to greet his brothers and sisters.
“In the neighborhood.”
“Your family?”
“My ma is finally speaking to me.” He lights up. “Something about a fortune teller telling her to let go of old grudges or some other nonsense. But my sister is starting to do high ropes without a net! And my younger brother, San, he’s gotten better with the knife throwing and—
Soonyoung continues to ramble as you tuck your smile into your cup. At least one person has a good relationship with their family. If someone asked, you couldn’t confidently say which of your sisters were still breathing; only aware your mother and father were alive from the whispers of Iaslerian merchants complaining about royal levies to pay for the queen’s jewels.
“One of the younger kids showed me some slight of hand with a coin and it looked alot like the ones we lifted from those traders in Uspar.”
Swallowing a mouth full of liquor you stay quiet. The little bastard just had to be one of Soonyoung’s kin because why not? The gods had a strange sense of humor.
“Strange.”
“I thought so too. Probably just a coincidence.”
“Probably.”
“Would my captain do me the honor of escorting her back to the ship?”
Pointedly ignoring the knowing smile Soonyoung flashes, you take the arm he offers.
Nightmares
The three days in Ventparsk pass quickly. More booze, a tumble with a nameless man at the Winter Garden, and enough snuff to kill a horse provides a blissful mindless haze. You even managed a quick scrub down at one of the bath houses. Soaking in the heated tub for hours, muscles loose and pliant from the herbal steam and hot stones. Jeonghan’s rotting body in the moldy damp brig of the Hydra is nearly forgotten.
Nearly.
Dreams always have a way of reminding us of the realities we wish to forget.
“You’re a dead man, Jeonghan.”
The bullet is screaming to make a home in between his ribs. Every muscle in your body pleading for the same. Sink the shot in Jeonghan’s heart and be free from him forever.
“Take them to the brig.” You instruct Jun.
“Never could just get on with it, could you?”
The next sound from Jeonghan’s mouth is a shrill scream as blood gushes from his thigh. It swirls with the sea water still dripping from his soaked clothes, scarlett inking through the growing puddle, opaque tendrils soaking into the wood.
“Shua’s gonna have fun with you.”
Finally skating on the waves of the vast ocean, you descend into hell.
The consuming stench of stagnant water and mold invades your nostrils as you transverse through the cargo hold to reach the brig. A rat squeaks as it scurries past, looking for its next meal no doubt. You loathe this part of the ship. Too deep, not enough exits, no clear path up and out. Just another gift courtesy of Jeonghan.
Three bodies hang from their hands, bound up and over their heads, feet barely brushing the ground as the sway with rhythm of the tide. Burlap bags obscure their faces but you know which lithe form belongs to him.
Shua sits at his desk, a collection of mismatched knives organized in neat lines like soldiers prepared for battle on one side. Jars of different poisons clink against one another in the wooden tray in the middle, the rainbow array of liquids each lapping at the sides of the vial for the chance to escape. On the far corner rests crude torture devices he’s collected over the years. Thorned strips of leather, several cat-o-nine-tails, and a lump of metal looking like a fruit with a knob attached at the narrow end.
The entire aura of Joshua’s corner of the ship screams anguish. A slaughterhouse for those unfortunate enough to stumble his way. It’s why no one visits him of their own volition. Not that he seems to mind, more than content to study the ways of the body than talk to one.
You take a seat across from the man dangling in the center of the room, nodding to Joshua to remove the sack from Jeonghan’s head.
Dark circles shadow his bloodshot eyes, cheeks sullen and pale, chapped lips bleeding. Nearly four days on board without food and possibly longer before they were rescued from the hunk of drift wood they’d been floating on while waiting to die has certainly done a number on him. You’d ordered Shua to provide the barest sips of water, just enough to keep them on this side of consciousness.
A metal goblet brushes against Jeonghan’s lips, urging him to tip his head back and swallow the cool liquid. Gulping down the contents without a thought, Shua refills it as fast as he can from a crystal pitcher. After a few shuddering breaths, another full cup is brought to his mouth and he downs it as well.
Idiot.
When Jeonghan eyes finally adjust to the pale light of the solitary lantern illuminating the cramped space, he sees you. Raising your chin, you know he won’t resist the opportunity to try and knock you down a peg despite his compromised position.
“Just couldn’t stay away.”
Joshua busies himself with arranging the necessary odds and ends on an empty wooden tray. He’s meticulous in his grisly craft, hands sure and perfunctory. The jostle of metal fills the room as he sets down the curated set on a stool next where you sit.
Not deigning to respond, you simply flash a sweet smile. The kind of smile a girl throws a man she wants something from, woefully out of place in the dark room you're standing in. But that’s precisely what throws Jeonghan off.
Standing, you snag one of the smaller double sided blades glimmering like a prized jewel amongst the collection. The ring at the bottom sits loosely around your pointer finger as you spin it round and round. Your steps are slow and calculated as you circle him, surveying his form from head to toe. Jeonghan is smart enough to try and keep his eyes on you but the metal collar around his neck prevents him from turning his head as you round him. Someone had the sense to remove his shirt before tying him up. Even if the shirt he came with was tattered to gossamer shreds, the fabric would find a use somewhere amongst the crew.
A clammy sheen glosses his dull skin, the ring of red around his bound wrists blistered and raw. Curls of dark hair stick to Jeonghan’s forehead and the column of his neck, matted to his scalp with sea water, sweat, and blood. A spray of dark bruises along his ribs are slowly healing, no doubt from whatever destroyed his ship. They labor his breath, his chest barely moving with the shallow swallows of air. The dark stain of blood is dried near black around the hole in his left thigh.
As you stand back in front of him, toe to toe, your gazes meet. Frigid steel tip of the dagger dips into the valley of his throat before you trace it down his sternum to the soft flesh of his belly. Muscles twitch as he clenches away from the sharp bite of the blade, freezing his breath to avoid pressing into it.
Slowly blinking you don’t turn away as you ask, “Shua, how long did you say it takes for the draught to take effect?”
“At least a few minutes, but on an empty stomach much less. He should already be feeling it start to kick in.”
“Do you Jeonghan?” Digging the knife in the soft flesh just above his naval, “Can you feel it?”
Shua had explained the effects when he brought the vial to your office. An oily concentration of some exotic herb from the deepest reaches of the Proera, tasteless with only the faintest smell of damp earth. Typically used as a mild sedative, fond amongst those looking to see beyond the veil of reality and into the curtain between worlds. But a heavy enough dose tortures whoever ingests it with terrifying visions, nightmares come to life. Not fatal in the slightest but after the walls melt and the person in front of you turns into a demon, one might wish it was. Unknowingly, Jeonghan took a large enough dose to incapacitate a third of your crew.
An emotion you never imagined he felt takes root on his face. Eyes wild as he focuses on the copper cup now sitting at the corner of Shua’s desk, before they flash back to yours. You can see his brain turning, attempting to decipher what you’ve slipped him, how long he has before entering the unknown.
Jeonghan’s shuddering breath puffs against your cheeks, a small whiff of the herbaceous tincture carried along it. His feet roughly scrape against the floor as he tries to maintain his footing, chains around his wrist and neck relaxing for a moment before pulling taunt again as his damaged leg buckles under his weight.
Jeonghan quakes with the effort to remain quiet. Even with poison flooding his veins, he clings to years of training to resist succumbing fright. But nothing has prepared him for this.
A crack in the facade spreads soon enough. Broken pleas force past gnarled lips, chest heaving as he struggles to inhale. Soon he’s nothing more than a child lost in a crowd. Frantic, panicked, desperate.
Horror consumes his face, the whites of his eyes visible as his eyebrows arch to his hairline, mouth opening to scream. Air rushes from his lungs as he wails, thrashing in his shackles without concern for the way the bitter metal rips into the flesh of his wrists and neck.
You’ve already pocketed the knife that was pressed into his stomach. No satisfaction in killing him when he’s out of his mind, but watching him descend into madness will bring its own pleasure.
“What the fuck did you do to me?”
Turning to return to your seat, he screams again, “What did you give me?”
Jeonghan’s voice is shredded and raw already.
In the corner, Shua is rapt with macabre attention. Carefully jotting down notes in his journal for later examination. If one person on the crew terrified you it was the fawn eyed man sitting next to you. Being handy with a weapon was nothing when someone knew how to destroy your spirit by barely lifting a finger, dead before you knew what happened.
You observe as Jeonghan’s expression grows distant. Fear festers along the surface, bubbling under his skin. Muscles flex and twitch painfully. Ugly fat beads well in Jeonghan’s eyes to spill down his cheeks, wads of snot dripping from his nose. Splotchy red patches bloom across his pale skin, fevered flesh prickled with goosebumps. The rusted shackles bite into his skin again and again as he attempts to shake free, nearly strangling himself in his effort. Silent pleas for relief, for mercy from whatever phantom of his subconscious haunts him now.
The two other men in the back of the room thrash in their chains as well, bashing their skulls back and forth to cast off the hoods over their heads. Frenzied as their brave captain’s curdled screams pierce their ears.
The nightmares chasing Jeonghan follow you up to your room that night.
“My little bird tried to leave the nest, did she?” Your father snarls.
The piece of cloth tied around your head doesn’t allow you to answer beyond muffled groans as you struggle.
“Perhaps I should teach you what happens when a bird leaves its cage.”
“Captain!”
You wake with a gasp, the sound of gunfire and cannons shaking your core. Jun stands in your doorway, soaked to his skin with soot covering half his face.
“Captain, we’re under attack!”
The deck is a flurry of activity. Bodies running to and fro, some headed below for the gun deck to return fire. Walls of water pour from the sky, obscuring the view beyond the corners of your ship. In the distance, flashes of light from cannons on the ship attacking yours is the only indicator of a presence beyond the moon and tide. They’re running diagonal to your port side, that much is clear. The mainsail is shredded to pieces over head, damp canvas whipping from cruel winds. The Hydra won’t outrun the ship attacking, the only end is to fight.
Scrambling to the quarterdeck, you join Jihoon at the wheel. He does his best to steer clear of enemy range, careful to maintain momentum you can’t afford to lose.
“Cut the wheel!”
“Are you crazy?”
“They’ve got too much speed, they can’t turn. Cut the damn wheel!”
Jihoon launches the wheel clockwise, shifting the rudders to turn starboard. The attacking vessel continues their path straight, unable to correct in time to cut you off as you slip behind them. But a second too late you both realize another ship lies in wait.
The second enemy ship attacks from behind, capitalizing on the attention monopolized by the first ship. The crew launches grappling hooks tangling around the Hydra’s rigging for them to swing aboard. They flood the deck like ants emerging from their hill, easily out numbering your crew.
You pick off two swiftly, bullets wedged deep in their skulls the second their feet land on the quarter deck. Rain stings your eyes, blurring your surroundings. Friend and foe indecipherable as you jump to the fray on the main deck.
Chaos runs free as blows are exchanged back and forth. It’s impossible to tell in the crowd of bodies who has fallen and who remains below deck to continue cannon fire.
Wonwoo and Soonyoung are back to back, facing off against five enemy fighters. Soonyoung nimbly dodges the swords aimed at his throat, returning his own killing blows with incredible fluidity. Charges of gunpowder sting the air as Wonwoo deals his own damage, sinking the shells into hearts and bellies before moving to the next.
Whipping around, you catch sight of Seokmin pinned down against the main mast, a giant of a man exhausting him with a sword. On reflex, you duck under a swinging arm as you charge forward. Sinking your dagger between the oaf’s shoulder blades you drag down with all your strength, ripping through the muscles tethered to his spine. The scorching gush of blood slips between your fingers, freeing the handle from your grip. Kicking out a leg, you land your foot along the back of his knee and bring him down. Over his head your eyes meet Seokmin’s. You barely catch the flash of horror on his face before the crack of a fist lands against your temple.
Blood and rain and sea water soaks the deck, nearly sending Wonwoo to his knees. The wretch of death fills his nose, sulfurous gunpowder and bile sharpening his mind. He’s surrounded on all sides, the glint of steel flashing as lightning splits the sky. The teeth of a sword split his side open from the bottom of his ribs to his navel. Wonwoo can tell the damage won’t kill him but he’ll have a hell of a time recovering. The sting only dulled by the rush of a fight flooding his veins.
Soonyoung is on his left, picking off enemies one by one, dodging the most damning blows and weaponizing their momentum to his benefit. Wonwoo would stop to watch if he wasn’t busy preserving his own life.
Pushing his way to the center of the ship, he spots the door below deck fly open; Jeonghan and the other two prisoners ushered out by a small group armed to their teeth. In the same second, Wonwoo locates Y/N in his periphery; just in time to watch her crumple from a cheap punch to her head.
Rage thunders through Wonwoo’s veins. In a flurry, he cuts his way to the main mast, prepared to kill whoever he needs to. Seokmin rips his knife out of the person who knocked Y/N out but another of the enemy crew manages to drag her body over to the side where their ship is latched to the Hydra. They rush to get her aboard their ship, sensing the change in tide of the fight behind them.
Clearly they’d been hoping to have the entire ordeal dealt with swiftly, not prepared for the force the Serpents are capable of. Minghao is already working to cut the ship away from the Hydra, nimble feet carrying him along the thin bulwark as he slashes the ropes snaring them.
Jeonghan and his cellmates are already securely on the opposite side of the gangplank, but the man holding Y/N’s body hasn’t crossed yet. If Wonwoo can provide enough of a delay, then Jihoon can get the Hydra back to the open sea.
In this moment, Wonwoo decides to commit the most ill-considered act of bravery he’s ever mustered. Launching himself on to the enemy ship, he lands with a thud on their deck, guns blazing. He’s able to pick off one, two, four crew members before they realize what’s happening. Bodies dropping to the floor around him in quick succession.
A final shot rings out before his ammunition runs dry and he switches to his dual swords strapped to his back. Wonwoo swings in wide arches, forcing his opponents back and away from the side of the ship to avoid the tips of his blades. Using the brief reprieve, he turns to kick the plank away, sending it to the crevice between ships just in time for Jihoon to tear free. Leaving his captain and her captor on the Hydra, and Wonwoo marooned with the enemy.
Saying a silent prayer, Wonwoo turns back to the crowd of what are no doubt Krakens, only managing to sink his sword's edge into one more before he’s overwhelmed.
A Tale of Two Ships
The Leviathan
“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head. “Always running to save the princess, aren’t you?”
Standing before him, Jeonghan resembles a rotten pile of horse shite. Y/N’s torture strung him out, made him weak and unstable. Wonwoo watched the strain in his muscles, the moisture on his brow, the labor of his breath. Fresh, angry halos circle his neck and wrists, blisters drying and scabbing to an ugly assembly of yellows and browns.
With his hands shackled above his head and his feet chained to the floor, Wonwoo attempts to calm his breathing. Jeonghan wants him worked up, wants him to slip and play right into his hand.
“What she sees in you is beyond me. Bastard stable boy, with nothing to his name except a whore mother and drunk father.”
In four beats, hold four beats, out four beats, hold another four. Repeat.
“She’d sell your soul the second it became advantageous for her. You know that, right?”
In four beats, hold four beats, out four beats, hold another four. Repeat.
Wonwoo desperately tries to zone in on the lantern, to let his mind wander in the vast recesses of emptiness. Anything to spare him from the lies Jeonghan spews.
“I know you love her. Pathetic how obvious it is, Wonwoo. Reminds me of a story actually. Once upon a time, there was a stable boy who fell in love with a princess. Now the princess was clever and made the stable boy believe they were equals, friends even. Can you believe that?”
Jeonghan rounds to face Wonwoo, a sickening smirk spoiling his face.
“She knew the stable boy cared for her and would do whatever he could to protect her. So when it was time for her to stop playing make believe, she let the stable boy take her punishment. She let him die for her and the princess never lost a second to sleep. Because the princess, no matter how she sullied herself, knew he wasn’t worth the dirt under her fingernails.”
In an effort to stay quiet, Wonwoo grinds his teeth so hard they are on the verge of shattering.
The defiant tilt to Wonwoo’s chin sends a flash of fury across the shorter man’s face before a serpentine smile curls on his lips.
“You don’t need to speak, stable boy.” Plucking a knife from his belt, Jeonghan flashes it into Wonwoo’s view. “But you will scream.”
And Wonwoo does.
The Hydra
Crowded around the large oak table of the Hydra’s navigation room, Jihoon, Soonyoung, Jun, and you spread over the atlas of the world. Attempting to decipher what Jeonghan’s plan for Wonwoo proves to be more difficult than anticipated. Even more so when you refuse to provide details on why Jeonghan would stage such an elaborate effort to capture you.
Your crew knows he’s disavowed and wanted by the Atterast, Nas-Shost’s military. They know you’re the reason why but you’d carefully smothered any true details of how you and Wonwoo were involved. Rumors of Jeonghan being a disgruntled lover, while half true, were enough to satiate their curiosity.
“He hates Wonwoo but he hates me more. If his desire is to torture me then he’ll leave Wonwoo alive somewhere I’ll never get him.”
“Iron Isle?”
“Do you think he plans to have himself arrested too?”
“Nas-Shost is unstable. Would he take advantage of that?”
“They’ll kill him before he speaks.”
“He’s in no shape to attempt crossing to Uspar or Truyso.”
“What about Iaslera?”
Iaslera.
Jeonghan isn’t a fool but he is ambitious and vindictive. If your father promised him something in exchange for his original target then Iaslera is a likely place for him to go. And Jeonghan knows you’ll fall right into his hands.
The knife you’ve been spinning into the wood grain digs a fraction deeper.
“How many days till Iaslera?” You ask.
“With the damage…at least five.” Jihoon breaths.
“Five?”
“At least. And that’s assuming it’ll only take us three to patch the hole in the sail and get it rigged again.”
Five days. Wonwoo will be Jeonghan’s captive for five days.
“Set course for Iaslera.” You bark, “And I want every spare hand helping patch that hole!”
The days of skidding across the ocean proved fruitful. If you didn’t keep yourself busy then a rut would wear into the wooden planks of your office from the endless pacing.
If Jeonghan is truly in your father’s court then you owe the crew an explanation of what exactly the Pearl Palace of Iaslera holds. You were no artist, but luck shined on you once again with Minghao. Even the barest memories regarding the servant’s quarters or the stables were included. He sketched every detail, every crevice you could remember with shocking clarity. Reworking sections over and over until the proportions equaled out. Finally, the drawings resembled your home.
Home.
No, not exactly home. Maybe when you’d been a child, when the pearl and silver tiara felt like magic instead of a lead weight; eager to spend days lounging in the library, mind lost to far off lands and tall tales; riding along the familiar beaches, outpacing your chaperone; hiding in the gardens with Wonwoo, playing whatever new game your imagination supplied you two with.
Iaslera was the place you grew up, but the sandy shores and rolling hills only held beauty, not familiarly, the sleek marble walls bearing no warmth or fondness. It wasn’t the place you longed for when out at sea or deep inland.
Home is the worn wood and white sails of the Hydra. Home is your mismatched crew of criminals, ex-soldiers, circus performers, and farmhands. Home is a stable boy who has been by your side since you decided Iasleria was home no longer.
Hours spent in the navigation room, your best fighters and strategists circled on either side of the heavy table, scanning the map detailing each floor of the palace.
“What do you know about the guard rotation?”
“Nothing. Princess, remember?”
“Hard to forget. Can’t believe we didn’t realize before.”
“The way you strut about the deck did always seem particularly royal.” Jun scratches his chin, as if picturing you flouncing about with a tiara on your head.
“Would you like to know what princesses do when they’re angry?”
“Huff their nose in the air?” Soonyoung laughs.
“Maybe if I didn’t have a gun.”
“The guards.” Jihoon reminds.
“I don’t know. My father knows we’re coming and he’s cocky. He’ll probably let us walk right in and assume we’re weak.”
“Sounds like an idiot.”
“So if we walk right in, what do we do?”
“Kill them.” Enea offers from her end of the table.
“If he hasn’t killed Wonwoo already he could have him hidden.”
“If he’s cocky enough to let us walk through the front door, do you really think he’d go through the trouble? He obviously isn’t thinking you have a chance of walking back out.”
“We probably don’t.” You say solemnly.
“What?”
“Best case scenario, my father dies and we walk away wanted by the throne. Most realistic outcome is I’m captured. If that happens, you grab Wonwoo and leave me behind.”
More than a few voices protest as the room descends into yelling.
“I’m your captain and you will listen!” You roar, silencing any objects with a swat of your hand. “Either we all die or I do. I will not pull you into this mess.”
“Not to seem uncaring but do you honestly believe we want to deal with Wonwoo with you not here?”
“He’ll be fine.” You assure.
Wonwoo would have to be whether he liked it or not.
“He won’t.”
“The month the Krakens had you? Wonwoo shot me. Twice.”
“He got into a brawl with Soonyoung.”
“He didn’t talk for two weeks.”
“We leave with both of you. Or we die trying.”
“No one is dying for me! This isn’t some silly brawl in a washed out tavern or a rival crew we’re ambushing. My father is capable of suffering worse than anything you can imagine.” You pause, nearly choking on the horror twisting out of your stomach as you remember the king's most egregious acts. “When I was a child, I spoke out of turn at dinner once. Would you like to know what my punishment was?” Circling your gaze around the room. “He put a poker into the fire until it glowed red—”
“He hit you with it?” Seokmin opens his mouth in horror.
“No,” you swallow, “He couldn’t do anything that might leave a mark in case it made us…undesirable. We had servants assigned to take our beatings while we watched. I was five, and so was she. He hit her across the face with that poker. When I cried, he did it again. When I screamed, he hit her harder. Even if he can’t touch me, he will make sure someone suffers and I watch. I will not damn any of you to the cruelty he’s simmered on in the past ten years. Am I clear?”
The wooden door claps shut as you exit without waiting for their response.
The King of Iaslera
Wonwoo doesn’t remember summers in Iaslera being so cold. Perhaps the bloody purple bruises blooming like a grotesque garden across his flesh have made him susceptible to the biting chill clogging the air. Or maybe the blood coating the inside of his mouth and nose. Or the cold dig of gray stone in his side.
He recognizes the damp dungeons of the king’s palace from the guards uniform, pale blue smocks with a silver lotus blossom embroidered on the back. They haven’t chained him to rings jutting from the floors or walls. Unnecessary given that Wonwoo’s right shoulder is dislocated and his ankle is broken, jutting his foot out at an awkward angle. Even if the planets aligned and the gods blessed an escape, he wouldn’t make it three paces before collapsing onto the ground.
Wonwoo doesn’t have enough knowledge of anatomy to set his shattered bones, likely to do more harm than good if he makes it out of this cell to see another day. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to Shua’s ramblings on the intricacies of the human body when he had the chance.
But he knows his arm can be saved.
The webbed pain coming from his shoulder is familiar enough. When Wonwoo turned thirteen he’d been assigned with helping break a new stallion for the captain of the guards. The stable master only let Wonwoo watch from the fence of the ring, eyes locked on the magnificent midnight steed. Proving to be a fatal mistake when the horse, Balius, charged right at Wonwoo, knocking him off the fence, down to the hard ground below. Once wind returned to his lungs, Wonwoo got a taste for the pain of a dislocated joint for the first time.
It'd happened twice since. Once thanks to the same dock he owed his scar, and another courtesy of the first time Jeonghan tracked Y/N across the waves to Uspar. Wonwoo knows what he has to do, but he craves to postpone the inevitable until the last possible moment.
The guards patrol in front of his cell every time the clock in the palace yard gives a large chime to signal the top of the hour. Shuffling to the bars on his bum, he uses his good foot to push himself across the weathered stone of his cell, before leaning his damaged arm between the thick shafts of iron.
Folding the bottom of his shirt between his teeth, Wonwoo prepares for the sear of pain. Even the faint memory of agony shoots gooseflesh down his spine. No matter how many times he’d done this, tears stung his eyes for hours till the pain sent him into a dark abyss.
Wonwoo knows if he screams, the guards will come running and eagerly dole more damage. A deep breath to corral any rogue shout that may escape his throat, and then he gives a sharp twist at his middle till he hears the sickening pop! A hefty grunt escapes into the fabric as fat pearls well in Wonwoo’s eyes, leaving clean streaks down his filthy face. Vomit rises in his throat as his vision blackens and whisps float through the haze. The surging throb curdles through his blood in time with his pulse as it rushes through his veins to every inch of his body.
The pain eclipses any of the other injuries he’s sustained so far but he tries to count his breaths, sucking in four beats and trembling out another four. His jaw feels as if it might break from how hard his teeth clench, fighting to keep the groans of agony on his tongue at bay.
Folding in on himself, Wonwoo attempts to focus on how he will survive. At least he has the advantage of secrecy on his side. Perhaps he can get in a surprise swing if it comes down to it. Wonwoo won’t die without a fight. He’s come too far.
“I brought you the boy, now give me what you promised.”
“Our deal was for you to bring my disgraceful daughter, not some pathetic peasant.”
“If he is here, she will come.”
“You better pray to the gods she does, boy. Because if she doesn’t, I will show you there are worse punishments than death.”
Two days pass before a soul outside of the guards visits Wonwoo’s cell. A fever claimed him yesterday, sending his body into a fit of chills and muddling his brain. The thin fabric of his bloodied shirt and trousers stick to his clammy figure like a second skin. Wonwoo figures it’s finally gone for the kill when Y/N appears in front of the bars. Back in the finery of court, gown and jewels pristine. Hair tamed on top of her head in a style Wonwoo knows she hated, beautiful face weathered with age.
No it wasn’t Y/N. It was her mother, Queen Demetria.
Wonwoo had no quarrel with the Queen. She’d been as powerless against the king as everyone else. But even in her limited ability, she’d cared for him and his plight. When his parents dumped him at the palace gates as an infant and allowed him to find refuge within its walls. Tasked a maid, Miss Ele, with his care. When he turned five, Wonwoo was brought back in front of the queen. He remembers how the queen asked him his name, told him it was the name of a boy who would grow into a strong man. And she let him stay, working in the stables to earn his keep.
There were worse fates for orphans.
With great effort he tips his head in a bow, nearly toppling over as his balance abandons him. “Your Majesty.”
“Is she alive?”
“I—”
“Please, is she alive?”
“Yes.” Wonwoo breathes. If Y/N was dead he’d like to think he’d feel it somewhere in his gut.
“What is she like?”
Wonwoo isn’t sure what to tell her. Few things are as solid as his loyalty to Y/N. But he owes the Queen his life. If she hadn’t been there, he'd have been dead long before he’d met her daughter.
“She’s,” he pauses, trying to figure what he can say without telling too much. His mind working at half speed under the fever, thick as molasses. “She’s incredible.”
The Queen gives him a watery smile, prodding him to continue.
“She’s brave, and smart. And she looks just like you. She’s a lot like you actually.”
“Really?” She swallows thickly.
“She tries to be like the king, but she… She’s…”
Good? Wonwoo knew the extensive lists of crimes and cruelties Y/N committed, the unknowns easily assumed. Good was a stretch but she wasn’t bad. She fell somewhere in between, beyond an easy answer. It's the only way to describe the princess turned pirate. A low bar to say she hadn’t been as cruel as she could have been but it's true. She’d done horrible things but at her core she was as good as someone in her position could be. Like a flame. Able to burn down villages if left unchecked, but eager to keep a freezing family warm if given the opportunity. Fire burns because that's its nature, but you can’t damn candle for the crimes of the pyre.
“I remember when you were brought here, Wonwoo. Just a baby. I’d still been carrying my daughter at the time. And I knew once Y/N came, she’d find you. A mother just knows.” The clamor of keys tickles his ears. “Your mother asked me to protect you and I promised the gods I would. She risked her life to save her child. She inspires me to do the same.”
The door to his cell swings open, ear splitting as rusted metal scraps against stone.
“I can’t walk,” Wonwoo pants. “they broke my ankle.”
The Queen pauses at the sight of his foot and Wonwoo can’t help but stare at her. The furrow of her eyebrows and twist of her lips remind him of her daughter.
“I have several guards that are loyal to me, not the king. I’ll try to have one fetch you and help you through the tunnels.”
“I don’t know where I’ll go after.”
“Even when she was little my daughter had a talent for finding you. I’m sure she’ll be here to collect you soon enough.”
“Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you, Wonwoo. You’ve taken care of Y/N all this time.”
“She makes it easy.”
“Love has a peculiar way of doing that, doesn’t it?”
Before he can say anything else, she’s turned to exit down the same hallway she’d come, heels echoing as she goes.
Jeonghan paces in front of the cell like a tiger circles its cage, like he is the one trapped inside and not Wonwoo. His hair is disheveled, eyes wild, tension stringing his muscles tight. Agitation consumes Jeonghan, even Wonwoo’s infection riddled mind can see it.
The sting of vomit and other refuse in the corner of Wonwoo’s accommodations stains the air. This morning, his urine was tinged pink. The sliver of hope of seeing anything beyond these walls ever again left when the Queen turned her back to him yesterday. No guards came to help him. Only ones providing small buckets of water for him to clean himself and drink from.
“She’s going to let you die in here.”
No reply. Not that Wonwoo has the energy to open his mouth, let alone goad the man. Let him drive himself mad for all Wonwoo cares.
“It was supposed to be her!” Jeonghan’s nostrils flare as he presses his face between the bars. His hands shake as they squeeze around the biting steel. “You ruined everything, you stupid piece of filth!”
The pieces of the mysterious puzzle click. Perhaps its infection induced delirium but Wonwoo finally understands why Jeonghan despises him so.
Jeonghan hates Wonwoo because he has what Jeonghan can’t get. No matter which way Jeonghan tried to rub his unworthiness in his face, she didn’t want him. Y/N chose Wonwoo, or that's what Jeonghan believes. A peasant-born bastard beat the son of a Duke. In Jeonghan’s world it was unimaginable.
In Wonwoo’s world, it's unimaginable too.
He can’t help but laugh. Scratchy and unpleasant given his condition but full bellied laughter fills his mouth, splitting the silence of the dungeon.
“You think it’s funny? You’re going to die here and no one is going to care.”
Snorting around caked blood and snot, Wonwoo’s hysteria continues at Jeonghan’s words. Wonwoo is laughing at his own funeral. Wildly inappropriate, but the irony of the gods sends him into a fit.
Jeonghan turns to the guards, furious at Wonwoo’s inability to respond to his attempts to instigate a fight. “Move him to the throne room, the King is waiting.”
The guards manhandling him upright might have hurt if Wonwoo’s body wasn’t begging for death. He’s slipping away into the recesses of his mind, barely able to snag the thread of reality that continues to unravel before him as he giggles manically. The jostle of his ankle sends bile to his mouth, acrid burn flooding his tongue.
Spots paint his vision, the movement fatiguing him quickly. His head lulls to and fro, muscles retired as they carry Wonwoo out of the dungeon and through the palace. Wonwoo’s eyes refuse to open, but he can listen. Every footstep thuds like a pulse, whispered words coming to him as if he’s deep underwater. A sharp gasp greets him when the guards finally pause.
The crack of his skull on marble is the last thing Wonwoo registers before he returns to darkness.
Onyx skies weep as a small dingy enters the harbor of Amesstino, welcoming the long lost princess home after years of separation as angry waves attempt to claim her for the tide.
Disguised as a gang of traders, you and your crew silently dock and flee the tiny craft. Thick sheets of rain provide plenty of cover to sneak to the palace unseen. No one speaks, crashes of thunder shaking the earth and bolts of lightning splitting the sky. Even the wind whips against your body, lashing at your back. The gods are angry.
Your fury is more dangerous.
The King anticipates your arrival, welcoming you with abandoned guard posts and open gates. You walk through the front door with baited breath, not even a servant ghosts through the empty quartz hallways.
Several pairs of eyes take in the finery that is the Iaslerian palace. As if sculpted from a single piece of white marble, smooth ornate columns support the massive structure, free from any blemishes or ware. Pale blue tapestries embroidered with silver lotus blossoms hang from the ceiling in even rows like icicles. Exactly the same as the day you left, frozen in time, eagerly awaiting your return.
Imposing silver doors seal off the throne room, gleaming like two teeth waiting to bite. Their thickness prevents any sound from breaking free, leaving you woefully unprepared for what will greet you on the other side.
A single beat of breath passes before your crew heaves the doors open to meet your maker.
Guns cocked and teeth bare, your eyes quickly scan the throne room. In the center, your father lazes in his throne, eyes alight with cruel mirth. Your mother is poised next to him, mouth wide in shock, face pale as if she’d seen a ghost. Guards line the walls, swords drawn; tense for a fight.
But the heap sprawled to the right of the lotus emblem on the floor stops heart. The familiar mop of hair inkling across the braided silver and blue veins of the seal. His chest doesn’t move, almost unrecognizable through bloody bruises swelling half his face.
Denial shrouds your mind. Wonwoo isn't dead. You’d feel it. In your gut, in your heart. Somewhere, you’d feel his soul leave this world and escape to the next.
“I gave you the princess, now give me back my title!” Jeonghan demands, emerging from the line of guards to the left.
“You’re as much of a fool as your father Jeonghan! Did you truly believe I’d let you roam Iaslera? You ruined any chance to return to civility when you took that brand on your neck!”
“You said—”
“Silence!” Carnos bellows, voice echoing between the walls. “My dear daughter has finally returned.” he smiles, “I wish to welcome her back.”
Your breath stutters in your lungs. You’ve had countless knives to your throat, guns to your back, brawled with the rowdiest of thieves and criminals. But the bravery curling around your edges shrinks back in the face of your father.
Suddenly you're five again watching Dirce cowering on the floor, with a bloody welt across her face. Helpless as your father unleashes the monster that lurks under his skin. It’s all your fault. Your greed. Your pride. Your envy. No one is to blame but yourself.
“You wanted me here.” You manage to steel your voice. “ He’s of no use now. Let him go and I’ll do whatever you want.”
If your father wants your submission, to see you beg, you’ll do it. He can break you if it means your crew will be left whole.
“What I want is for you to finally learn your place. And you will, in due time. But first, you’ll watch your little bastard lose his head.”
“No!”
“Be silent!” He demands, guards taking a threatening step forward. “You insolent little bitch! You thought you could escape me? I am a King! You are nothing. Less than nothing. You couldn’t even escape that pathetic excuse of a pirate on your own! You needed a peasant to—”
A gunshot rings through the room. A hole in the king's chest releases a trickle of blood down his front, staining the creamy linen shirt. King Carnos shakes as he dips his chin, mouth open in shock as he realizes he’s been shot.
The smoking revolver in Jeonghan’s hand quivers, his eyes wide at what he’s done.
An eerie smile creeps across your father’s face, blood staining his teeth. His last words are indecipherable as he chokes on the next rush through his mouth.
Not even a mouse squeaks to break the fragile silence hanging in the air, bodies frozen to the floor as the great King of Iaslera falls.
Then chaos explodes.
Your mother wails as she registers what's happened, guards rushing in an attempt to aid the king.
Every muscle in your body screams to flee but your mind keeps you on your knees. The king is dead. Your father is dead. Mouth slack, you shiver as death brushes past you, her chilled hand resting briefly on your shoulder before she steps forward to claim his soul. The once faint whispers of the sea trickling into your ears again. I’ll collect you eventually, princess. But not tonight. Death will have to wait once more for you to trail behind her.
Soonyoung drags you by your armpits, screaming something in your face that you can’t hear, the ring of the bullet replaying over and over; as if you’re under the waves and life is happening far above on the surface. Wonwoo’s limp body still rests in the corner, face bruised and caked with flaking patches of deep maroon.
Everything rushes you at once.
“Come on Y/N!”
“Wonwoo, get Wonwoo!” You shriek hysterically over Soonyoung’s shoulder as he pushes you out.
“We’ve got to get back to the boat!”
“Please!” You beg, voice horse as tears streak your face.
Hand iron tight around your wrist, Soonyoung doesn’t let you break from his grip. You barely make out Jun and Jihoon carrying a third body before you’re outside and nearly falling down the cliff to the shore.
Seokmin fights to keep his hold on the dingy as it batters against the sand. You and Soonyoung are the first to make it. Minutes pass by as you watch the remaining members of your crew fly down the stairs, slowed with the added weight of another. You can’t breathe.
Jihoon hauls Wonwoo into the ship first, followed by himself and the other men.
Nothing else matters, just the weak rise of his chest. It’s the tether your sanity latches on as you return to the sea.
Dreams
In the liminal space between life and the abyss, Wonwoo dreams.
He dreams, and he remembers.
The first time Wonwoo meets the princess, he discovers she’s insufferable.
The little girl glides his way, the self-righteous air of importance swirling her stiff shoulders. “What is your name?”
Wonwoo just gives her a slow blink, she’s woefully out of place amongst the smells and sounds of the stable.
Turning to the older woman, the snobby girl asks, “Is he simple?”
“I’m not simple!” Wonwoo objects.
“Then what is your name? You have one don’t you? Or do you prefer I call you ‘stable boy’?”
“My name is Wonwoo.”
“Nice to meet you.” She says, nose high in the air as she extends her hand.
Wonwoo hesitates before shaking it like he’s watched the older men do when they settle a deal.
“No!” She objects, snatching her palm away. “You don’t shake a lady’s hand.”
Her scolding confuses him, twisting his face.
“You do know what a lady is?”
“Of course I do!” He stomps. “You’re just a girl!”
“Ladies are girls, you idiot!”
An older woman steps in, “Ma’am, your horse is ready.”
Huffing indignantly, the little girl twirls to flounce to the other side of the stables. She walks as if the ground only exists to rise and meet her foot with each step. The princess is headed where the caramel colored mare that bit Wonwoo two days ago waits. Figures. Crazy horse for a crazy girl.
—
“Would you like to play with me?”
“I have chores.”
“They can wait until after we play.”
“Go on, son.” urges the older groomsman Wonwoo assists. “I’ll take care of your stalls.”
His eyes shift as he stammers for another excuse. Play with the crazy girl? He’d rather shovel the entire stable twice over.
Wonwoo doesn’t get the chance to speak before she snagged his wrist, pulling him towards the wide entrance. “Come on!”
Once tucked away in a secluded corner of the garden, both panting, Wonwoo looks at her. She looks about his age, only an inch shorter than he is at seven years old. Wisps of loose hair float around her face with a few tiny braids and twists pinned here and there. Delicate threads of silver intertwined throughout. Her dress is simple stormy blue but the fabric clearly indicates it isn't a hand me down like all his torn and patched clothes are.
“Do you know how to play soldiers?”
“Yes?”
“Teach me.”
“Huh?”
“My sisters don’t know how and when I ask the boys in court they won’t play with me.”
Wonwoo spends the rest of the afternoon running around the garden with Y/N. She’s decided they’re nations are at war, and this is the final battle.
“Yield!” She cries.
“Never!”
“Your majesty! What are you doing?” The shrill voice of an older maid rings out. “Young ladies do not roll in the dirt with servants! Certainly not princesses!”
The wrinkly woman grabs Y/N’s wrist, shooting a glare at Wonwoo.
“And you! Don’t you have chores that need finishing?” The maid spits before whipping around towards the palace.
The little princess mouths a silent apology over her shoulder, remorseful round eyes only leaving Wonwoo when she’s dragged behind a hedge.
“No way to behave! Your governess will have my head when she sees you…”
—
“Do you like burnt sugar cake?”
Wonwoo continues to ignore any effort for conversation, focusing on raking the new hay he’s laid down in the stall. Now that he’s twelve he’s given more responsibilities than just tossing the soiled hay into a cart.
“How long will you be angry with me?”
More silence. It’s the only thing Wonwoo can control in the unbalanced dynamic between himself and the youngest princess of the court. If she wished, she could command him to do whatever she wanted, the threat of whips at his back. But she allows Wonwoo to be angry. To be silent. She’s sat and mopped for the past two hours, huffing and sighing as Wonwoo refused to acknowledge her bids for attention. He ducks into the next stall and begins the same repetitive steps he has all morning, allowing the sweat on his brow and pull of his body to dull his mind.
What business was it to the princess that he couldn’t read?
When he exits, he finds the piece of confection wrapped in a silk handkerchief on the wall of the stall, Y/N nowhere to be seen.
The stables aren’t warmed with her presence again. Wonwoo never admits to missing it.
—
“I’m going for a ride!”
“My lady, Muriel has oyspox and there is no one else to escort you.” A stammering maid attempts to placate the fuming princess.
“If my mare is not saddled this instant I will take someone’s head!”
“You cannot ride without accompaniment!”
“He will escort me.”
Wonwoo knows she’s referring to him without looking away from the saddle he’s rigging onto one of the guard’s horses. A rambunctious sandy colt named Athos with a penchant to buck at strangers. He’s one of Wonwoo’s favorites.
“Ma’am, he is a stablehand!”
“Which is of no concern to me.” The rich timber of her voice is decidedly royal. “He will be my escort and that is final.”
Handing over the reins of the stallion to another servant, Wonwoo sets towards the tack room for the appropriate gear. The dark leather saddle and matching bridle is in perfect condition despite going years without use. Wonwoo would know, he’s the one charged with oiling them.
The familiar caramel colored mare is clearly excited for a ride, baying over the door to her stall. Wonwoo can’t stop the grin from spreading to his lips. Over the years, Kalsta had become as familiar as the back of his hand, only nipping his shirt when he refuses her a treat.
Once Kalsta and another stone gray mare are prepared, the fuming princess mounts her and dashes from the stable. Her hair blasting behind her as she pushes into a dead sprint across the hills leading to the coastline below the cliff housing the dazzling white palace.
Wonwoo’s eyes roll, but follows nevertheless; careful to remain several paces behind, even when the horses tire to a trot. From this distance, Wonwoo catches a few muttered words about some royal from the next continent over the crashing waves.
“If you were to marry a girl, wouldn’t you care to know more about her than which season she prefers?”
It takes Wonwoo a moment to realize she’s finally addressing him directly. When he does, he fumbles for an appropriate answer.
“I–,” he stammers, “I don’t know. I guess.”
“Then it is of no coincidence if you disagree with her about other more important topics?”
“Such as?”
“Such as… well I’m not quite sure but certainly there are more important things than my preferences in tea.”
“Surely there is, Your Grace.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“A humble servant would never mock their sovereign.”
“Humility is a virtue you lack in spades, Wonwoo.”
The grin pulling at the corners of his lips wins the tug of war with his mind. “Ahh, so she does remember me.”
Rolling her eyes, the first smile Wonwoo has seen all afternoon blooms on her face. “Of course I remember you. A girl never forgets the first boy she beats up.”
“You didn’t beat me up!”
Her warm chuckle brightens the atmosphere despite the nipping autumn breeze.
“So you’re to be married?”
“If my father has his way, yes.”
“What’s he like?”
“My father?”
“No, the prince you’ve been mumbling about.”
“He’s not a prince, he’s the son of a duke in Nas-Shost.” Y/N picks at the seam of the saddle. “We’ve been engaged since I was twelve, but I’m not sure what he’s like. We’ve only written a few letters.”
“A few letters since you were twelve?”
“Marriage wasn’t as looming when I was a child.”
“And you haven’t learned anything about him in all that time?”
“He tries to charm me but I find it quite dull.”
“Picky princess.”
“Is it so wrong to want a man of some substance?”
“Like what?”
Wonwoo hadn’t thought much about marriage at all. He’d caught a few of the younger maids staring at him when he worked without his shirt on but paid them no mind. No one ever gave him reason enough to think of anything more than some lighthearted touching. He was barely sixteen after all.
“I don’t know. His words tell me nothing about who he is or what he enjoys. Only that he is an incorrigible flirt who takes interest in trivial matters of taste.”
“You don’t want a man who charms you?”
“I want a man who has meaning beyond a made up title.”
“‘Made up title’,” he rolls the words around his mouth. “I believe that borders on treason.”
“Does it count if I’m referring to myself?”
Wonwoo continues to ride with you in silence, this time matching your pace.
—
Wonwoo wakes to whispers of his name, urgent calls for him to break the delicate surface of dreams. He fights a shout when he finds Y/N hovering over him, hand covering his mouth. Brushing it aside, he throws his gaze around the tiny space of his quarters before returning to her.
She’s cloaked in a gauzy dressing gown, the thin cream cotton of her nightgown peeking out between the deep blue lapels where the soft skin of her chest disappears; bedraggled tendrils of hair curled around her shoulder. The gentle flicker of candlelight casts her face in a hazy glow, flame reflecting in the dark center of her eyes. The princess is in his room, perched on the side of his bed, face inches from his own. Wonwoo must still be dreaming.
“He’s here.”
Wonwoo’s brain is thick as cold honey, the day in the stables more grueling with the additional horses the king’s guest brought. “What?”
“Jeonghan. He’s here.”
“And you’ve come to my room to tell me this?” Wonwoo turns his back towards her and closes his eyes.
“He’s horrible.”
Her admission gives Wonwoo pause. Glancing over his shoulder, he catches a wet trail of tears glossing Y/N’s face, chin tucking to her chest to hide her visage amongst her hair. Pitiful whimpers spill from her lips. Wonwoo nearly chokes when she throws herself into his chest, hot beads streaming onto his bare skin as the walls of control crumble.
“He’s awful, Woo.”
Wonwoo has never navigated such an emotional response from Y/N, from any woman really. When they’d been children, she’d stomp her foot and storm away when upset. Or sometimes tackle him to the dirt and pin him under her till he apologized and begged for mercy. He’s completely out of his depth..
Remembering how his mother would comfort him, Wonwoo lifts a hand to stroke the top of her head. A fresh round of tears erupt, shaking her against him. A loud bawl escapes Y/N, freezing Wonwoo’s blood. He cannot get caught with the princess in his bed. Not in this state; thin cover pooling around his waist, his chest bare and her’s barely covered by thin scraps of fabric. Both states of dress were courtesy of Iaslera’s brutal summers. But a coincidence wouldn’t save his sorry hide if another servant walked in.
“Y/N,” Wonwoo whispers gently. “It will be okay.”
The lie does nothing to stifle her sobs.
Trying again, “It will be fine, I promise.”
Wonwoo has never been a master of words.
“It won’t!” She shudders. “He’s awful, and rude. And he looks at me like nothing more than some prized horse.”
“They’ve only arrived today. Surely he cannot be that bad already.”
“He’s exactly like my father.”
Y/N’s father. Less of a man and more of a waking nightmare. Wonwoo barely interacted with him but the King’s reputation was well known across the kingdom.
Any words of comfort die in his chest. There’s nothing Wonwoo can do. That anyone can do.
“I wish I’d never been born.”
If Wonwoo had been born in her position, he’d wish the same thing.
“You’ve always wanted to see Nas-Shost.”
“How wonderful it will be from the confines of a palace.”
“Perhaps he’ll allow you to travel. You said the King hardly visits the Queen since you came about.”
“So I’m to pray he takes up a mistress after he’s had his fill of me?”
Telltale signs of her fury take root. Huffed breath and shaking hands, a husky scoff punctuating each sentence. Perhaps anger is better than sorrow. Wonwoo has placated her many times when the princesses' temper emerged. This would be no different.
“I’d pray he takes up several, then he’d be too busy to bother you, and let you do as you please.”
“I’d do as I please anyway. He’s barely a duke and I’m a princess.”
“Yes, as you’ve reminded everyone with every breath you take.”
“Jeonghan is the one who acts like his title is of importance! ‘Future Duke’ this and ‘when I am Duke’ that. He squawks like a bird.”
“You’re not quite dazzling to be around either so he might bore quickly.”
“I could have you arrested for speaking ill of the royal family.”
“And what do you plan to tell the guards, your highness?” Wonwoo smirks. “That you forced yourself into my chambers past midnight for some gossip and found yourself offended?”
Wide eyes glace down to his naked chest, jumping to her own as she pulls her dressing gown around herself tighter. The apples of her cheeks warm enticingly as she realizes the precarious position she’s arranged them in, still half in Wonwoo’s lap, perched between his legs.
As if burned, you jump away from his bed to the wall only a foot away. “I—. I didn’t, it isn’t.”
“Isn’t what, princess?”
A pause before indignation takes flight. “You truly are insufferable!” She quietly shouts. Spinning to exit his room with a dramatic sigh.
—
“I wish for a ride.”
“I’m occupied, ma’am.”
“Well make yourself un-occupied.”
“Her Majesty wishes it, so it will be.”
“How I hate when you call me that.”
“What would Her Royal Highness prefer?”
“For you to shut your trap!”
“Such foul words from a lady.”
“I have several more for you if my horse isn’t ready soon.”
“Your Highness, would you mind if I accompany you for your ride?
“I prefer to go alone.”
“You’re going with the stable hand.”
“It’s required that I have a chaperone. Since he’s a servant, he doesn’t count as company.”
Wonwoo tries not to take offense to the subtle insult to his station. He knows she doesn’t mean what she says but the words resemble the same ones he’s heard from other, less friendly, lips many times before.
“I see. Well, I hope to speak with you when you return.”
“Of course, Jeonghan.”
—
“You want to what?”
“Leave. Go somewhere else. Anywhere else.”
“And just how do you expect to do that? You’ve never left these grounds.”
“That’s a lie! I visited Anlehm when I was thirteen!”
“With a royal escort! A girl on the road by herself is completely different.”
“I won’t be alone.”
“And who will join you?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Please keep up Wonwoo, we don’t have much time to discuss.”
“Why me?”
“You are the only person in the world I trust.”
She speaks as if the admission is little more than declaring the day's weather, but the weight rests heavy on his shoulders. The only person the princess of Iaslera trusts is a bastard stable boy with nothing to his name.
“And as such, I will need your assistance.”
“I’ve never left the palace.”
“But you understand peasant things like money.”
It’s not a slight, simply the truth.
“So I am nothing more than a guard for you?”
“Of course not, you’re my friend.”
Friend. Friends with the princess. Gods help him.
“A friend would tell you your plan is madness.”
“And you?”
“You’ll do it anyway.”
“You know me well.”
“If we’re caught, I’ll hang.”
“Then we won’t get caught.”
“Because it is as easy as that.”
“‘If her majesty wishes, so it will be.’ Remember?”
“So it will be.”
—
“What do you know about sex?”
Wonwoo chokes on the large bite of apple he’d been munching on. “Pardon?”
Rolling to her side next to him under the shade of the lush fruit tree, Y/N starts again. “Sex. What do you know about it?”
“I— This isn’t an appropriate conversation for a lady.”
“Well I’m no longer a lady, considering I’ve run away with a servant. I’m thoroughly disavowed from the crown. No need to worry about corrupting me.”
Corrupting her. Him corrupting Y/N.
Oh.
The thoughts were already there, smothered by his own guilt of imaging his friend in that way. Wonwoo suddenly pictures the first time Y/N wore trousers, the roughspun fabric hugging her rolling hips as she glided by. Worse, she didn’t even realize what she was doing, having his tongue nearly hung out of his mouth like a panting dog. And now she’s asking him about sex? Perhaps leaving the palace was a bad idea.
“It's something people do to pass the time.”
“I know what it is, Wonwoo. What is it like?”
“I don’t know. Probably like kissing I suppose.”
“And what's that like?”
“You’ve never?”
“Princess, remember?”
“Well it’s…sort of wet? And feels nice. It’s hard to explain.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Show me what kissing is like.”
—
“Wonwoo.”
“Yes?”
“You’re really quite handsome. Do you know that?”
The burn of whiskey on an empty stomach loosens even the lips of royalty, it seems.
“High compliment coming from a princess.”
“I’m not a princess.”
Y/N huffs, stumbling back into the mound of hay Wonwoo collected for sleeping. Fall looms on the horizon and the chill of the evening air requires sharing the ratty blanket. Wonwoo would happily sleep in his own pile but her disposition after a cold night left much to be desired.
“You’ll always be a princess. You still walk like a princess, talk like one, even order me about like we never left the palace.”
“I do not order you around!”
Shrilling his voice in mockery, he does his best impression of what he dubs her ‘princess voice.’ “Wonwoo, fetch us breakfast. Wonwoo, teach me to fish. Wonwoo, show me how to use a knife.”
“Well you listen so well it’d be a shame to waste a talent.”
A pause.
“I like when you order me about.”
Perhaps he’s indulged too much as well.
“Wonwoo.”
“Yes?”
“Will you teach me about kissing now?
That night, Wonwoo teaches you everything he knows. He also learns sex is much more than passing time.
The Edge
Dark. Wonwoo registers darkness and warmth first. As his soul slowly returns to his body he realizes he’s laying down in a cot, the unmistakable sway of the sea rocks him to consciousness. And then, Wonwoo realizes he hurts.
A sharp pounding echoes through his bones in time with his weak pulse. Each breath stretching his lungs to the point they feel as if they’ll shred. One of his eyes is swollen shut and the other waters uncontrollably under the pain.
A squeeze around his hand anchors his attention. Using whatever reserve of strength he has left, he tries to squeeze back.
“Wonwoo?”
The voice is familiar, buttery smoothness pleasant to his ears. Wonwoo hopes the Voice will continue saying his name. Maybe it will lull him back to sleep and away from his torment.
“Wonwoo?”
How lovely the Voice is. Perhaps he is still dreaming, the smooth slide of a warm palm against his forehead comforts him before the roughness of a damp cloth wipes at his brow.
A pause before the Voice removes what Wonwoo assumes is her hand. He calls on the reserve of strength again to protest, coughing a weak groan into the space above him.
“You’re awake!” She says, as if it's some marvel.
When she dives into his chest, Wonwoo nearly screams. His ribs protest her weight, his lungs on the verge of collapse. But on his skin he feels her hot wet tears, her nose digging into his breastbone. Even her lips brush against the sensitive flesh as she cries his name over and over. The desire to wrap his arms around her is quelled by protesting muscles. It feels as if he’s wading through wet sand.
She must sense his pain because she removes herself from his person and coos for him to sleep, raking her fingers across his scalp gently as something foul and oily slips between his lips. Sleep, what a wonderful idea.
The shallow rise and fall of Wonwoo’s chest has been the subject of your attention for three days. A part of you fears that the moment you look away it will stop.
He’d woken for the first time in the early hours of the morning a few days ago, the sun barely rising from his bed beneath the horizon as Wonwoo breached consciousness. Shua lectured on and on regarding the significance of rest to healing. Better for Wonwoo to sleep fitfully than wake in agony. But the more frequent he broke the surface of slumber the more anxious you became.
A brief shift of your focus to the vial of murky sedative Shua left for you to administer gives Wonwoo enough time to wake with a heart wrenching groan.
“Shhh,” you coo, settling the cool cloth back on his forehead. “You’re alright.”
“Y/N?” Wonwoo mumbles, eyes firmly shut but his eyes moving rapidly behind his lids.
“I’m here.”
You move your free hand to his own on the side of the bed, thumb stroking the backs of his fingers in an attempt to sooth him.
“Princess.” he slurs.
The pained sobs you’ve released quietly over the past few days return, watering your entangled hands as you rest your forehead against them.
Even in death, your father still torments you.
Wonwoo becomes fully sentient after a week. Weak from hunger and dehydration, but alive. Shua fusses over him at all hours like a mother hen, mixing vials and brewing all types of teas to speed his recovery along. Luckily, with all of the commotion from the crew to see Wonwoo with their own eyes, you’ve been able to fade to the shadows.
Taking the wheel yourself gives Jihoon a chance to descend below deck. Or offering Soonyoung the opportunity to share a meal with Wonwoo as you man the rigging. Anything to stay away from the room next to your own.
Somehow Wonwoo awake and aware is worse.
But only so many distractions exist in such a small space as your ship. The crew begins to brush aside your offers of assistance, urging you to have time with Wonwoo now that he’s healing. You’re at the end of your rope when Seungkwan informs you of Wonwoo’s request to see you.
You can feel Wonwoo’s eyes watching you in the corner of his room, your own tracing the whorls in the wood grain of the floors, walls, and ceiling.
You break the silence first, “Are you angry with me?”
“When have I ever been angry with you?”
“I’m angry with myself.”
“That’s why you’re you and I’m me. I chose to go on his ship.”
“It’s my fault he was here in the first place!”
“Do you think I’m incapable of making my own choices?”
“I’ve never,”
“If given the same chance, I’d do it again. I don’t regret it.”
“I—”
Wonwoo cuts you off before you can protest. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
This is the start of the conversation you’ve been running from.
“I haven’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He’s right. And rather than continue to lie, your feet carry you out the door and back in the safety of your office.
Two more days pass before you gather enough courage to brave him again. You’ve never been afraid of Wonwoo; never shied away from his presence. Even after tense moments, having him around was a comfort and he indulged your desire to ignore whatever bubbled between you two. But not anymore. Wonwoo is demanding answers you don’t have to questions you're terrified of asking.
He sleeps thanks to the sedative Shua slipped in his tea before re-sewing some of the garish stitches along his ribs.
Resting in the chair next to the top of his bed, your eyes catalog his features. Even through the swelling and bruises, Wonwoo’s still handsome. From the sharp tilt of his jaw to the gentle pout of his lips, even his scar warms your heart as he dozes. It's hard to settle the panic hanging over your shoulder, a swirling mass of fear and dread.
So lost in your own mind, you don’t realize his good eye is open and glaring straight at you.
“You’re back.”
Jumping at the rasp of his voice, you launch to your feet. “I was just leaving.”
“Of course you were.” He scoffs.
The venom in his tone freezes you as your fist clenches around the doorknob.
He continues, “I asked Jihoon to take us to Ventparsk. I’m going to find a new crew.”
“What?” You’re trembling.
“You don’t want me here.”
“I never said that!”
“You don’t have to! You can’t even look at me without running in the other direction!”
Wonwoo just stares. He’s patient in the worst ways and the injuries littered across his face obscure any emotions he may be experiencing himself.
“I don’t know how to do this, Woo.”
“You’re too scared to try.”
“Maybe I am! But if I’m a coward, what does that make you?”
“A fool.” he spits. “I can’t pretend to not feel for you. Not anymore. If you truly do not want me then I’ll make it easier for the both of us and allow you freedom from any guilt.”
What can you say? The man you’ve bound yourself to in mind, body, and spirit, who has risked his life for you more times than you can count, is willing to walk away for your comfort; unconsciously taking half your heart with him. The idea saps the oxygen out of your lungs. You without Wonwoo. Like a flower without the sun. The sky without stars. Ocean without a tide.
Wonwoo has never asked, only allowed you to take endlessly. Perhaps it’s time you give something to him.
Tears are welling in your eyes before you can speak. “I don’t want you to go.” Shaking your head, your voice breaks as you cry like the little girl you were so long ago. “Don’t go.” Quivering like a leaf in a storm you beg. “Please.”
Through the blur of tears you can make out Wonwoo attempting to rise out of his cot. The extensive wounds and injuries make it a Herculean effort, causing him to nearly topple to the floor before you approach him. Strong arms tangle around you as you bury your face into his neck, pleading for him to stay.
“I don’t know what else to do.” He whispers into your hair.
You continue to bawl, plagued by images of your lonely figure, missing the better half of your soul. The only steady presence in your life, the one person who played witness to your weakest moments. Months of separation at the hands of fate were child’s play considering the bleak future Wonwoo suggested. Nothing sacrificed or gained would be worth the pain if he isn’t there to share it with you.
“Please.”
“You’re being selfish.”
“If this makes me selfish then yes I’m selfish! I’m selfish and I’m cruel because I can’t imagine a world where we separate. Please!”
“You’ll make do.”
“No I won’t.”
“So you ask me to stay by your side, knowing how I feel, and do what? Ignore it? Pretend it doesn’t exist?”
“When have I ever asked you not to feel?”
“When have I asked you for anything? Any wish or whim in my power I do. Why can’t you try?”
“I do not know how.”
“That’s a lie.”
“What do you want me to say?” Your voice cuts like glass, tears of sadness transforming into tears of frustration.
“I want you to tell me the truth!”
“I am! I have no idea what any of this means!” Your back up and pacing, hands nearly ripping your hair out in an attempt to ground yourself. “I thought you were dead Wonwoo. I thought my father killed you! And for a moment it felt like I died too.”
“And you don’t think that means something?”
“My apologies that I’m not able to write sonnets about feelings I don’t understand!”
“You refuse to even try. I nearly died and you can’t even stand to be in the same room as me!”
“Because it’s my fault! I decided to leave the palace! I decided to pull you into my mess! How can you even look at me?”
“Because I love you.” His eyes burn. “For years, I’ve loved you and I tried not to but—” Wonwoo swallows roughly. “It’s become something I live with.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Because telling you served what purpose? You had one of the crew tortured and tossed overboard because he guessed we rolled around in some hay when we were children. Didn’t inspire confidence you’d be receptive to the idea!”
“So you decided for me?”
“Impossible as it might be, please attempt to consider how I felt.”
“And now I’m selfish? You decide to keep secrets and it’s somehow my fault?”
“Then it's my fault for not being brave enough to face your rejection?”
“I wouldn’t—. I haven’t rejected you.” You blink. “It’s terrifying. Want you the way I do. I can’t think, I couldn’t breathe until you woke up. What happens to me if I let myself have you, and you disappear?”
“I would nev—“
“What if someone comes for you again and this time they do kill you? When I saw your face at the palace, I felt…” Another hot wave of tears emerges. “I couldn’t do anything. All I saw was you. I begged my father to kill me so I wouldn’t have to live without you.”
Silence.
“Did it feel like no matter how many breaths you took there wasn’t enough air? Like you were drowning on dry land?”
“Yes—“
“Like the sun fell out of the sky and the tides stopped? Because that’s how I felt. When Jeonghan took you. My body was here but my soul was with you.”
Of course the one person who understands you is Wonwoo. He sees and he knows. And for all his claims that words aren’t his strength, he gives you courage.
“I wasn’t raised to understand this. My mother told me the most I could hope for with a man was friendship, maybe fondness. Love isn’t a privilege I’d learned to understand.”
A pregnant pause passes.
“Then we learn together.”
Sitting back on the cot, you allow the warmth of Wonwoo’s calloused palm resting on the knobs of your spine to calm you. Sniffling pathetically, you listen to his heart drum in his chest. It reminds you all the times you pressed against him for warmth when you first ran away. The beat of his heart lulling you to rest better than any lullaby your nanny sang in the nursery.
Wonwoo breaks the delicate silence shrouding his room.
“A liar and a coward. What a pair we make.” He chuckles, humor in the irony.
Releasing your own puff of air, you hesitate before asking.
“What do we do about it?”
“About what?”
“These… feelings.”
“I don’t know.”
From all the stories you read as a child, confessions of love and wanting meant joy and happiness. But in its stead is something like sorrow, a firm pain of a crossroads without a clue where either path led.
“Wonwoo?”
He hums.
“What do you want to do about it?”
Wonwoo is silent as he ponders.
“Right now, I want to hold you.”
Moments pass as you trace shapes along his chest, careful to avoid the bandages crossing over his shoulder. The pressure of his lips against the crown of your skull turns your head up.
Wonwoo’s face is soft, staring at you with undeserved fondness. The same way he did that night in the barn, the same way he has always done in private when he thinks you aren’t looking. If Wonwoo is brave enough to tell you, then you owe him the same.
Tracing his features with your fingers, you carefully avoid the wounds still dappling his face. Starting at the temple where his scar begins, you follow it to the plush of his lips, the skin chap under your touch. Before following the loop of his nose and the curve of his brow.
“I love you.”
Your whispered admission floats in the air above your heads.
Wonwoo shuts his eyes and lets you do as you please, leaving a gentle kiss to the pad of your pointer finger as it returns to his mouth.
The smooth slide leaves you craving the contact across your own mouth. Rising up, you gently brush your lips across his. Barely a ghost of flesh but Wonwoo chases the contact. Lips slip against one another, soft passes filled with tender longing.
One the next stroke, you suck his lower lip between your teeth and allow the tip of your tongue to trace it. You faintly register the copper taste of blood and the salt of the sea. The drag must ignite something in his blood because Wonwoo attempts to twist you underneath him before he yelps in pain.
“Stop! You’ll tear your stitches!”
“Damn the stitches,” he grits, claiming your mouth again.
Carefully maneuvering out of his reach, you break the kiss as you rise from his cot. A genuine smile of joy returning to your face after years of drought.
“When you’re better,” you whisper.
“You’d have us wait?”
“I’d rather have you when your face no longer resembles the wrong side of a horse.”
He fails to make a grab for your sleeve, huffing as he rests back into the mattress. “I thought I charmed you with more than my looks.”
“Unfortunately, I’m quite shallow.”
“There should be an old scarf in my desk drawer, perhaps that can be of use?”
“Woo,” you gently coo. “You can’t even sit up straight.”
“I believe that’s a matter of opinion.”
You chuckle. “When you’re well enough, I’ll lock us in here for as long as you wish.”
The simmering displeasure is clear on his face. Wonwoo isn’t angry with you. He’s angry with his injuries. With Jeonghan and your dead father. With the fates.
“As long as I wish?”
Humming in agreement as you rest one knee onto the bed, you lean over his form before whispering.
“You should try and listen to Shua so I don’t have to wait much longer.”
“Fine.”
“It’s a deal.”
Three months.
Three months of silently mourning the death of your father in the dead of night, when you’re safe from prying eyes and your mind wanders free. You hardly knew him, he was as much of a stranger as a merchant you stumbled passed in a busy market. Guilt whispered across your mind as each tear slipped down your face. Mourning the man who terrorized a nation and his family, who paid for your execution, who tortured Wonwoo.
Three months of Wonwoo downing every greasy concoction and bitter remedy Shua prescribes. One month for the bruises to yellow and fade into memory, for his cuts to scab and scar. Two months for his shoulder to cease its insistent throb. Two months of keeping his body firmly planted in his cot until he’s cleared to rise with the assistance of a mahogany cane courtesy of Jihoon. Another month of hobbling along the deck, relearning his center of gravity under the threat of toppling into the sea.
Ninety two days of heated gazes and longing brushes of hands in passing, conversations littered with double entendres verging on obscenity. More whispered confessions and declarations. Twenty four nights of you visiting his room under the cover of the moon, sitting by his side, clasping his hand while he slept fitfully, administering more oily sedative when the nightmares chase him awake and one night he pulls you down beside him. Then seventy two mornings blinking wake, curled against one another under the thin sheets like you had all those years ago, whispering promises in the gentle dawn.
The first night Wonwoo shuffles across the deck without the assistance of the familiar piece of wood, you nearly take him against the main mast. Instead, you settle for pulling him to your cabin as the oil lantern begins to burn low, when the eyelids of the crew droop from exhaustion and their heads turn away in consideration.
A choked groan leaves your throat as his hips settle between your thighs, molding together so tightly there’s no deciphering where you end and Wonwoo begins. Mouths refuse to separate as you roll against one another, a cacophony of breathless whimpers and husky moans blending between lips.
Your bodies burn with the inferno of a pyre, every hair stands on edge like lightning is about to strike a hair width away. There’s no air to breath, but the space you’ve descended into thankfully requires none. Only you and Wonwoo exist, not time or the sea or the stars.
“Say it again,” he whispers into your mouth.
“I love you!” You gasp back, eager to seal the words with another suck of his tongue.
Calloused hands palm your chest, breasts heavy and full, nipples growing to stiff peaks as deft fingers brush and pluck. Wonwoo laps at the smooth dip between before latching onto one, nipping and sucking as you writhe in the sheets, thrashing wildly against him. Your own hands make busy twisting and pulling his hair, nails scraping against the dip of his neck and across his broad shoulders.
“Again.” Wonwoo bites into your skin, punctuated with another harsh curl of his hips into yours, so deep he’s in your lungs.
Sobbing your reply, eyes closing as your forehead presses to his, you nearly choke on air as he drives into you again and again.
“I love you.”
“Again.” He pants desperately.
“Wonu!” You keen, back of your head pressing into the pillows as your chest collapses from his precarious rhythm. Streams of light rupture across your vision, tension swelling in your veins and ripping you apart.
“Love you, I love you,” He mutters like a prayer into the crease of your shoulder, face buried in your neck as he snatches your wrist, twining your fingers with his next to your head, grip so tight nails sting into the back of each other's hand.
Another prayer of his name rips from your throat, cannoning Wonwoo into a frenzy. He pummels into you with such force the crown of your skull knocks into the headboard. His hips stutter as he finds his release, filling you with his seed as he cries your own name into your lips.
Stuttered breaths settle for a moment.
“Again, Woo.”
He eagerly follows your orders, just as he’s always done.
Epilogue
Once upon a time, an unlikely friendship between a princess and a stable boy bloomed in the gardens of a king’s palace. The stable boy followed the princess wherever she decided to go, and the princess knew that if she ever needed to turn back, the stable boy would welcome her with open arms. Even when age led her to the other side of this life like an old friend, the stable boy couldn’t help but follow. Though he was eager to return to her side once more, the princess had remained behind to welcome him with a smile when he walked over the hill.
Some say that when the moon dips below the horizon of the sea each day, it's the princess returning to the warmth of her lover's embrace. Always destined to find one another in each life, never to be kept apart, no matter what came between.
#svthub#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt fanfic#svt wonwoo#svt jeonghan#svt angst#seventeen fanfic#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan angst#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo angst#seventeen angst#svt#wonwoo smut#🫡 highvern
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A Helping Hand (M) ~Seungmin
Pairing: LabHybrid!Seungmin x GN!Reader Themes: Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers | Roommates to Lovers Word Count: ~4k | AO3 Synopsis: After one too many shots of vodka, your best friend confided in you a little problem he’d been dealing with for a couple of months now. Tipsy-you figured that you were more than suitable to give him a helping hand. Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption · overall hybrid shenanigans · Seungmin has a dirty mouth · pet names · Smut (warnings under the cut). let me know if i missed any💜
Author’s Note: can’t believe my first ever published Seungmin fic is a hybrid au lmao. got a weird boost of inspiration for this after seeing @starlostseungmin talking about it, so here it is ! Special thanks to @notastraykid for giving her very valuable input to improve the first draft, as well as @comet-falls for letting me know it didn’t suck skjdfhsdkjf
Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.
Smut Warnings: this is, as usual, some monsterfuckery · handjobs · praising · breeding kink (kind of) · hybrid anatomy (knot) · copious amounts of fluids. again, let me know if i missed any
Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.
“You–You don’t have to do this, serious–Oh, God…”
You swallowed, focusing on your best friend’s face. Focusing a bit too much on the vein that popped on his neck when he threw his head back, on how pretty his eyelashes looked when his eyes fluttered shut, on those pouty lips of his you totally didn’t wish you could have on yours… All while trying to ignore what you had between your hands, all while trying to ignore the obscene, squelching sounds their continuous movement produced…
“I said I’d help you, didn’t I, Seungmin?”
Seungmin inhaled deeply. His ears twitched, his tail seemed to have a life of its own, it had started thumping against the headboard of the bed the moment he’d sat down and you’d taken a hold of him.
After opening his eyes again, Seungmin looked at your face, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. “You did”.
“And I always keep my word, don’t I?” You twisted your wrists, never stopping the motions of your hands.
Seungmin sighed, and some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to evaporate with the motion. “You do…”
A spark of doubt flared in your mind, large enough it was impossible to ignore. Your hands stopped, and the tiniest whine left Seungmin’s mouth. “Unless you… Are you feeling uncomfortable? I can– I can stop”.
Seungmin’s hands flew to your wrists, preventing you from pulling away completely. “No. No, no, please, don’t… I… Fuck, I really want this. I really, really need this”.
You would’ve never expected the afternoon to take you here… To your best friend’s bedroom, to him sitting on his bed, with his back against the headboard, and with his legs spread. You would’ve never expected to have his cock in your hands, barely even out of his lounge shorts. In your mind, this had never been a real, genuine possibility. Yet here you were.
How long had it been since you realised you had a crush on your best friend? Too long, probably. It might’ve been a bit embarrassing, but you truly couldn’t even remember a time when you weren’t pining over him, a time when you weren’t thinking how it would be like to be with him physically, intimately…
Although, to be fair, this situation was far more sterile than all those fantasies you’d allowed your mind to wander into only in the wee hours of the night. It wasn’t as if Seungmin had confessed his feelings for you, or you to him. It was more like… like you were giving your friend a hand–literally and figuratively.
Seungmin was a hybrid. A black labrador hybrid, to be exact. He’d been your best friend since you were a kid, when the school you attended finally started allowing hybrids as students. You could still remember the first day you saw him, standing in a corner by the lockers. You’d approached him, mostly because your mother had taught you that hybrids must be treated well, just like you’d treat anyone else.
He was a shy boy, totally out of character for a lab hybrid, but the more you got to know him, the more he warmed up to you, the more you started to see that bright personality of his. As soon as he’d deemed you trustworthy, it was almost like that shyness had never been there in the first place.
He started to come over to your place to hang out or do homework, to open up about his life, and even to show more of his mischievous side. He’d call you everything from dumb dumb, to human kiddo, to little human, just because he could. But it was fine.
Even if at the beginning it annoyed you that he simply wouldn’t call you by your name, it eventually became such a Seungmin thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him when his eyes sparkled so brightly whenever he used his little nicknames for you.
Seungmin was chaotic, he was funny, and he was the most loyal friend you’d ever had. He’d been with you through thick and thin. Every broken friendship and relationship, he was always there to console you, to hold your hand and tell you it was going to be alright. He was always there for you, without fail. He’d always joke around and say it was one of his lab traits, but you knew better.
Whether he was a hybrid or not, you knew Seungmin would still be the same Seungmin.
Your Seungmin.
A couple of years ago, you finally got to move out of your parents’ house. It was only natural that you ended up renting a place with your best friend, considering he, too, wanted to move out, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of living with strangers.
Decades had passed since hybrids were integrated into human society. They finally had rights, they were treated as people and not some pet you bought from a store–no disrespect to pets, they had their rights, too. But pets weren’t people. Hybrids, on the other hand, were.
Hybrids had free will, they could reason like humans could, and they certainly deserved to be treated as equals. These were the values that you’d been taught as you grew up, and it was something you believed in still to this day.
Regardless, hybrids still had their animal urges and needs, which Seungmin seemed to have been struggling with for a couple of months now.
The confession happened last night, while you both threw a tennis ball back and forth at each other, after one too many shots of vodka–to be more precise, it’d been three. Three shots of vodka only.
Alcohol wasn’t deadly toxic to Seungmin like it was to other hybrids, but his body certainly couldn’t digest it very well, which usually manifested not only in the flush that spread all over his face, but also by shutting down every single one of his filters. ‘I haven’t been able to come in two fucking months. Two months! I feel like I’m dying, dude. I just need to blow’.
You’d asked him how that was even possible, how he had not managed to bring himself to orgasm in two months, considering you knew he was a person with a moderate sex drive–based on the amount of times you had to stay in your shared flat while he had company over… His answer was a very graceful ‘The fuck if i know… Nothing works, my dearest little human. Porn doesn’t work. Literature doesn’t work. And my imagination clearly doesn’t work, either’.
He looked genuinely distressed about it, especially when he sighed, and his tone lowered. ‘I’ve been checking forums online… Going anonymous to ask strangers, specifically other hybrids, but most of them said that I needed to find the root cause, that something in my environment could be affecting my physical performance, but it’s… It’s really frustrating, because I genuinely have no idea what’s going on’.
‘Have you tried, I don’t know, getting laid?’ was what your tipsy self asked. You wouldn’t have asked that question fully sober for sure. You really didn’t want to know if Seungmin was out there getting laid these days. It had been a little over a year since you had seen him date anyone, and the thought of him dating someone now, admittedly, made you jealous. Which was potentially very stupid on your part considering you were just friends. The best of friends. Only friends.
‘Nah. Can you imagine if I’m with someone and I can’t fucking come? Distress… Besides, I don’t want to just… You know, do it with a random person. People are kinda… ew’. You could understand completely why he wouldn’t want to go out and hook up with a stranger. After all, some people still saw hybrids as sex slaves, or they were heavily fetishised, so it wasn’t exactly safe to partake in one night stands for him.
Besides, your best friend was not one for hookups and one night stands in the first place. He had trust issues, especially with humans, so you could definitely understand his predicament.
‘What if it’s someone you know?’ You threw the ball back at him just as you’d boldly asked the question, because spirits always made you voice things sober you would never have the guts to say.
Seungmin caught the ball and scoffed, completely sure that no one he knew would want to be that intimate with him, and not think ill of him if he didn’t manage to perform.
But you had to open your big mouth again, very confidently telling him ‘And what about me? I can do it’.
The ball suddenly fell from Seungmin’s hand, landing on the floor and rolling under the coffee table. His eyes followed the movement like a hawk–or, maybe it’d be more accurate to say like a dog. He stretched his body a bit out of the sofa, not even bothering to stand up fully, trying to get the ball while he chuckled, maybe a bit nervously.
Seungmin genuinely thought you were joking for a second. That was exactly what he’d told you, but then he saw how serious you were about it, and, after a few minutes of silence, he simply said that you should have this conversation sober.
Which you did.
Which took you right here, right into his room, with his painfully hard cock in your hands.
Seungmin knew you wouldn’t judge him if he couldn’t come. He trusted you enough to be vulnerable with you in more ways than one, to tell you what he needed or wanted, so you would gladly help him–the fact that you had a major crush on him made you feel a bit self-conscious, you’d admit… Like you were taking advantage of the situation to touch him this intimately. But you had already offered it, and he had already accepted it, so you just didn’t feel like backing down on your word.
“Tighten your grip a bit more”, Seungmin mumbled, and once again he threw his head back when you did as asked and continued working his cock. “Fuck, yeah. That’s it…”
You were starting to heat up yourself. Especially whenever he spoke like that, with the tone of his voice as low as it was. Seungmin was one to swear a lot, very openly, but in this context, it certainly felt… filthier. And it affected you. Maybe embarrassingly so…
You couldn’t help but swear under your breath when your eyes drifted from his face to his length. How could you not look? When he was there, letting you touch him…
Clear fluid leaked from his tip, dripping all over your fingers and aiding your movement, intensifying those sinful wet sounds that resonated in your ears with each stroke. You knew his specific breed tended to produce more fluids than a human would, he’d told you this before in passing, but you had honestly not expected it to be this much.
Seungmin didn’t seem fazed at his slick soiling his clothes. On the contrary, it seemed like he didn’t even care at all.
“Like what you see?”
Your head snapped upwards to meet his eyes, and you immediately felt heat rush to your cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard not to look, but…” You suddenly felt small under his gaze, even if your hands didn’t stop. His eyes were so dark, staring right into yours so intensely the hairs at your nape stood on end.
Seungmin always tried not to look people in the eyes, ‘It activates this primal instinct in me, it’s a bit annoying sometimes, to be honest. I only make eye contact when… when I… Well, you know…’ He’d said once, very vaguely, but even back then, you understood.
He didn’t need to tell you in which situation he enjoyed eye contact. Whenever you looked him in the eyes, you always felt trapped under his gaze, like you wanted to submit. And, somehow, it also woke the butterflies in your belly. Right now, that feeling seemed to have heightened tenfold.
“You’re trying not to look, but…?” Seungmin licked his lips, reaching forward to take a hold of your forearm. Not to stop you, but simply to drag his thumb over your skin in soothing motions.
“But…” You swallowed. You figured now was as good a time as any to let the thoughts out of your head, otherwise they would haunt you forever. “You’re so big”.
Seungmin giggled, a sound that he hardly ever let anyone outside of his close friend group hear, the flush on his face deepened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Adorable, even in this context… “You think I’m big?”
“Haven’t touched someone this big ever”, your pace was still slow, but you made sure to stroke as much of him as you could, as tight as he had asked you to. It wasn’t like he was crazy big, he wasn’t particularly long, but he was just… girthy. Girthier than you had ever seen in your pathetic excuse for a love life. “Not only that, but… It’s just… pretty”.
At that, Seungmin looked genuinely incredulous. “Pretty?”
“Mm… pretty”.
He was going to speak, but before he could, your movements sped up, and the whine that left his mouth as soon as you did had your insides instantly firing up. It was a completely involuntary reaction, how could your body not react when the sounds coming out of his mouth were this sinful? When the almost canine whines stirred the butterflies flying freely in your belly?
“Oh, fuck… That’s it, baby, just like that, shit…”
You didn’t even acknowledge the pet name that just escaped his lips. You were convinced it was a heat of the moment thing, so you swallowed that saliva that had suddenly pooled in your mouth, and continued to focus on your motions.
With both of your hands, you went from the base to the head a few times, until you settled one of your hands at the base and the other at the tip. You had heard that the base of a canine hybrid’s cock was sensitive, not as much as the head, but much more than a human’s would be, and Seungmin’s wagging tail and content sighs proved that to be true.
You made sure to pull the foreskin with you when you pumped his head, and your eyes naturally drifted to the sight again. Pretty, indeed…
“You’re so fucking good at this, fuck…” Seungmin’s head was tilted back against the headboard, but he was still looking at you through his lashes. His chest rose and fell with his laboured breathing, he was essentially panting, his tongue poked out from between his lips, and the movement of his thumb on your forearm had long since stopped. He was now just gripping your arm, lightly digging his fingers on your skin.
“You think so?” You couldn’t help but ask.
Maybe it was a bit selfish, but you definitely wanted to hear more of his praise. It fed a pool of arousal in the pit of your stomach that you just knew you’d have to deal with as soon as you were on your own and away from his prying eyes…
“Fuck, yeah… You’re so good to me, so…” His words trailed off, stopped when he swallowed thickly.
You wanted him to continue what he was going to say, you almost asked him to, but before you could, he spoke again–with an edge of desperation in his voice that almost made you faint.
“Squeeze a bit harder at the base”, so you did, twisting your wrist as you went up and down, and the loud moan that fell from his mouth made you dizzy with need. “That’s it, keep doing that, fuck…”
You worked his cock for a while, all as words of appreciation continued to fly past his lips, all as his slick kept dripping all over your fingers, as he directed more pet names your way. Until something started to feel different…
“Oh, oh, fuck… Fuck, shit, don’t stop, baby, please, don’t…”
You wouldn’t have dared stop, not when your fingers suddenly weren’t able to touch where you held him. You kept the motions on the head of his cock, but the base seemed to be swelling under your grasp, loosening it a bit.
“No, no, don’t stop there. Squeeze it. Keep touching it, pup”, Seungmin pleaded, tightening his grip on your arm while small whines escaped his throat, almost drowned by the sound of his tail thumping against the headboard.
“Oh, my God…” You knew hybrids were anatomically different to humans, but you had never really considered just how much they could be, so it really took you by surprise.
You were experiencing one of Seungmin’s hybrid attributes first hand. There, at the base of his cock, a knot was quickly swelling, and you would’ve never expected how much the sight and feel of it could affect you. Your mind raced, suddenly curious as to how it would feel like if he were pushing his cock into your warmth, how he would stretch you out to your absolute limits…
Seungmin might’ve been the hybrid here, but you were certainly salivating at the feel of his swollen knot in your hands.
Tightening your grip around his knot, you started massaging it, just as you pumped his head faster, coaxing a string of groans and moans and swears to come out of Seungmin’s mouth.
“Your hands… They’re so soft, so… perfect. That’s perfect, pup, you’re doing so fucking well”.
Seungmin was talking to you like you weren’t the one working him up. It would’ve amused you, had it not been feeding the fire that was burning bright deep within yourself.
You could feel your underwear sticking to your skin, drenched in your own fluids because of Seungmin, and the sounds he was making, and his heavy cock under your hands, and that fucking knot of his…
“Seungmin… Shit, you… This…” Being honest, you were speechless.
“What? Huh?” Seungmin finally let go of your arm, instead he cupped your cheek, making you look at him, just as he started to thrust up into your fists. “I know what you want to tell me. Or, at least, I think I do, fuck… I can hear how fast your heart is beating, pup. I can smell it all, you know? I wanna know what you’re thinking. Tell me”.
You licked your lips, staring into his eyes. You were sure your face couldn’t be any warmer, yet the heat seemed to spread further the longer you looked at him, the faster you moved your hands and he thrusted into your grip.
“I’m… Fuck, I can’t help but think how it would feel like inside me, stretching me open…”
“Oh, shit–” Seungmin threw his head back. His tail thrashed against the headboard, and his ears were twitching nonstop. “I can–Fuck, baby, I can give it to you. Whatever you want, just say it and I’ll give it to you”.
With your lower lip trapped between your teeth, you took in a deep breath, almost shivering when Seungmin pulled his shirt up to reveal his torso just as he mumbled the most desperate “Close, so fucking close, puppy. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Tell me–tell me more…”
“I want… want your knot… I want you, Seungmin. So much, so, so much. Need you”, you emphasised each statement with a tighter squeeze to the swollen base of his length.
“Oh, fuck!”
With a few more thrusts of his hips, and a few more twists of your wrists, Seungmin gave you a quick warning, only for your name to fly past his lips, and explode seconds after. Thick ropes of cum spurted from the tip of his cock, painting his torso in the creamy substance and dripping all over your hands. It was so much cum, more than you had ever seen anyone ever produce.
The sounds coming out of his mouth were absolutely pornographic, they entered your ears and shot straight to your aching, needy insides. Needy for Seungmin, for his knot, and his everything.
You kept working his cock, pumping the tip to make sure every drop of his cum came out, squeezing and stroking his knot through it all. Until Seungmin’s body slumped against the headboard.
The movement of your hands stopped, but you didn’t remove them. The sight was straight out of a wet dream, his torso, his shirt, his shorts, your hands, everything was covered in cum, and you suddenly had the urge to taste it. But you begrudgingly resisted that urge, this was probably not the moment for that.
When you finally looked away from the mess, your eyes found Seungmin’s. His chest rose and fell with his ragged breaths, his lips were slightly parted as he gasped for air, and he was looking so deeply into your eyes you simply couldn’t look away.
You weren’t sure who moved first, maybe it was you, or maybe it was him… Or maybe, it had been both.
Before you knew it, Seungmin’s soft, moist lips were on yours, kissing you like a starved man. And you retaliated, of course. You kissed him with the same enthusiasm he had, licking his bottom lip to get your tongue inside his mouth, and very quickly, you started to feel lightheaded.
Kissing Seungmin was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Hearing him and seeing him come was a transcendental experience, and you were sure that your brain chemistry had just been altered forever. How could you ever go back to anyone else after this?
The kiss was messy, sloppy, tongues intertwining and teeth sinking on soft skin, producing wet noises all around. You would’ve honestly loved to stay there forever, kissing him, with his length in your hands and his cum all over your fingers. Unfortunately, though, you needed to breathe, so you finally disconnected your lips from his, and took a deep breath.
Seungmin looked into your eyes, and you looked right back. They were still dark, still alluring, but there was something else, something softer… Maybe more vulnerable. The stare-off lasted for a few moments, a few moments spent in silence, until you both broke into a fit of laughter.
Seungmin was practically glowing, he looked possibly the most handsome you’d ever seen him. Even when he was covering the lower part of his face with his hand while he laughed, trying to hide that pretty smile of his after years and years of insecurities produced by the now long since removed braces on his teeth, you still found him incredibly handsome and adorable.
“I take it you enjoyed it? You must have. Look at this mess you made”, there was a teasing smile on your lips, but the truth was, you genuinely wanted to know.
“As much as you enjoyed, it seems”, Seungmin scoffed, and he gestured between your bodies, where you were still holding his cock. He was still just as hard as he was before he came.
“You’re still hard?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice, nor the way your eyes widened at the sight, and it made Seungmin smirk immediately.
“Baby, I’m a dog. My cock thinks it should be inside someone right now, keeping all my cum contained with my knot. Of course I’m still hard, it wants to breed”.
“To… to breed?” Your voice was airy, shaky, suddenly unable to contain the feeling of pure arousal you felt coursing through your veins.
“Mm… to breed”, Seungmin repeated, and he bit his lip when you started to gently squeeze and caress his knot.
He detached himself from the headboard just enough so he could pull his shirt off. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. His gaze softened further, and he brought his hands to your cheeks so he could softly caress the skin with his thumbs. “Thank you. Fuck, I'm so grateful right now. That felt so good”.
“Oh, please… It was my pleasure”, you chuckled, finally letting go of the head of his cock so both of your hands could focus on giving attention to his knot, hopefully helping relieve any possible discomfort he might be feeling since it was out in the open, unable to fulfil its purpose.
The motions clearly made Seungmin’s blush deepen. He looked at you for a few bated breaths, and before you could even understand what was happening, you were on your back, gasping in surprise.
Taking his discarded shirt, Seungmin knelt on the bed, right between your legs, and he cleaned your hands, as well as his torso of as much of his cum as he could.
“Your pleasure, pretty human, hasn’t even started yet. Let me make you feel as good as you just made me feel”.
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General Masterlist
#stray kids hybrid au#seungmin smut#seungmin fluff#seungmin fanfiction#seungmin fic#seungmin x reader#neverendingdreams#stray kids smut#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfiction#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#hybrid seungmin#✨🌙✏
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I am SO gonna need a part two to Sam choosing between reader and ruby. I loved it and I’m CRAVING angst. I can only imagine how you’d continue the story I KNOW it would be good
I'm so glad you loved it! The response to this specific fic has been mind-blowing to me as someone who just started posting, and I am super humbled by it! Thank you for your support <3
Imagine Sam having to choose between you and Ruby (Part 2)
Cold. If any hunter was asked about you, that is how they would describe you. When Bobby came and picked you up that day, he let you sit the entire ride home in silence. When you two reached his house, he popped a beer for you. When you went to take it, he held it back and demanded,
“Sit.” You sighed and sat at his kitchen table, drank the beer he offered, and told him everything. He comforted you Bobby-style, meaning he told you it would be alright and the two of you would figure it out. You finished your beer, thanked him, and asked if there was any car he didn’t care to part with. While he had none running, he permitted you to fix any of them.
It took you a month to fix up a car. Everything you knew about cars you learned between Dean and Bobby. It was nothing fancy, but it would get the job done. Every morning, Bobby would make you eat breakfast, and every night, when you came in, Bobby would make you eat dinner. You would then shower, sleep, and repeat. It was like you were a zombie. When the car was completely ready, you packed your things, left Bobby a note thanking him and saying that you would call, and left.
During your month there, your phone would begin to ring non-stop. Calling, text message, voicemail. Sam was using any way you could communicate on the phone. In the beginning, you would listen to the voicemails.
“Hey, baby, it's me—again. Please pick it up and at least let me know you are safe. We can talk about this. I love you.”
“I know you’re mad- you have every right to be. I was selfish and stupid, thinking about what was best for us without consulting you. It was dumb, and I took full responsibility. Please call me. I miss you so much; I love you.”
Every voicemail sounded like that, but the contact became less frequent. Instead of all day, it was in the morning and at night. Then it turned into just at night. Then it turned into every other day until it became once or twice a week until the last week you were at Bobby’s, Sam didn’t try to contact you once. Good.
You went from town to town, trying every crossroads demon. Trying to get information, make a deal. Anything. Every demon denied you a deal, and no one would tell you anything. You were getting frustrated. In between finding demons, you would pick up solo jobs. The roadhouse became your home away from home, wherever your home was supposed to be. Some nights, you would end up like Ash, asleep on top of a pool table or bar; other nights, Ellen would give you the spare back bedroom.
Hunters would come in and try to flirt with you. You would be cordial and say no; however, every hunter was the same- stubborn, and thinking no would eventually turn yes. After the fifth hunter came through and tried to put hands on you, you grabbed his hand, twisting it like Sam taught you, and caused the wrist to snap.
That was the last time a hunter hit on you at the roadhouse.
Every so often, Sam Winchester’s name was brought up around you. Hunters loved to talk, and now you know how every hunter seemed to know you three when traveling, but you never knew them. Each time you heard Sam’s name, your heart became colder, and another shot was poured into your body.
Three more months had passed, and you were no closer to figuring out how to get Dean out of hell. A few times, you thought about calling Sam to see if he was close to saving Dean but decided against it. When your phone rang, you were in a hotel room, just finished clearing out a vamp’s nest. Bobby.
“Bobby.” You say that was your greeting now to anyone; you have no spark of joy left in you.
“I need you to come home.” That was all Bobby said. You sighed and flung your boot off, working on the other one.
“I mean, I can; it will be tomorrow, though; I just finished a hunt; is it that important?”
“It needs to be now,” Bobby said. I stood up.
“Bobby, what’s going on?”
“You’re going to want to see for yourself, get your ass over here and stop arguing with me.”
“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll be there in a few hours.” You say before you hang up. You look down at all the blood on you and then make eye contact with yourself in the mirror.
“But first, I’m going to shower.” You mutter to yourself.
Freshly showered, you were at Bobby’s five hours later. You turn the ignition off and step out of the car. The afternoon light was setting in, and you started to get nervous. Nothing seemed out of place, so what was the big deal? You opened the door and called for Bobby.
“Bobby, it’s me; what’s so important,” You stopped as you looked in the living room. Bobby stood there, along with- Dean. You gasped. Dean smiled.
“Hey, Sweetheart.” He spoke. He went to walk towards you.
“Don’t move a muscle.” You say, grabbing your silver knife and keeping it under your shirt and pants.
“Y/N, I already did the checks, it’s him.” Your eyes looked over at Bobby and narrowed again.
“How do I know you’re Bobby?” Dean smiled.
“You’re good here; test me.” Dean held out his arm, and you did all the testing. When he didn’t react, you looked into his eyes, and tears started to form.
“You’re back.” You whispered.
“I’m back,” he said. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. After a few minutes, he broke the hug and rubbed your arms.
“Bobby told me about Sam.” Hearing his name iced your heart over once more. You looked away from Dean.
“He made his choice; I made mine. I haven’t talked to him since I left.” Dean nodded his head.
“I was going to try to find him if you wanted to come.”
“Thanks, Dean, but I’ll pass.” Dean sighed and nodded while Bobby said he was going and was going to finish getting packed. You hugged Dean again before ensuring he still had your number and left.
A few weeks after that, you saw Sam Winchester for the first time in months. You heard rumors from the roadhouse about everything going on with Demons and hunting in packs and were looking for a girl, but you never went and checked for yourself. You knew the brothers would be there. Instead, you took up your usual gigs, hoping to stay away from the war.
It was a little salt and burn hunt. You were dressed in your FBI outfit, questioning the latest victim’s wife when you heard it. That low rumble you used to ride in. You quickly finished up your goodbyes, gave her your card, and started to walk back to your car when they stepped out. Sam’s eyes were wide, and he stood frozen at the vehicle. Dean was walking around the car. Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he kept advancing towards you. Dean wrapped you in a hug, and you returned.
Sam walked up to you and Dean. His eyes stared into yours; his mouth kept opening like he was going to stay something but then would shut it again.
“Are you still seeing her?” It is all that came out of your mouth. The distaste was evident in your voice. Sam looked taken back for a second but then regained his composure.
“No.” That was all he was able to muster up and speak. You looked at Dean for confirmation.
“I haven’t seen her.” That is all he said. That raised suspicion in you. You decided to let it go.
“If you want to help on this case, I can tell you what I have gathered so far; I was about to go get lunch- you guys are buying.” You walk past them and get in your car, not waiting for them to reply. You drove to the diner you saw on the way to the victim's house and noticed the Impala was not too far behind you. You grabbed a booth at the restaurant, and the boys slid to the other side of you. After you three ordered it, you started discussing the case and everything you learned.
“So, what’s your theory?” Sam asked after you gave them everything you learned.
“These men are not correlated to anything except they all went to the same bar. They were all at the bar the night they died. I’m not sure I would have to go back and ask all the victim’s wives, but I think these men were all unfaithful in their marriages. See, Kathleen Voss’ husband was unfaithful and wanted to be with his mistress, who, get this, was a bartender at that bar, so he killed Kathleen and tried to cover it up. Of course, he was caught but died in jail the same way as all the other victims.”
“So, you think these men are sleeping with a bartender?” Dean asked.
“I don’t know if they are unfaithful with a bartender or just in general, but I’m assuming that’s where Kathleen sticks around since that’s where her husband started cheating on her.” The boys nodded their heads in agreement as our food came. You ate, they paid, and then you told them where you were staying. Before Sam could even have a chance to talk to you, you turned around and walked to your car.
Back at the hotel room, you let out tears that had been hiding behind your eyes the entire time you were around Sam. Old wounds opened, and while you gave a brave face, you were crumpling and fast. You headed for the whiskey in your bag and drank it straight from the bottle. The burn hurt on the way down, but you hoped the effects would start soon. You changed out of your FBI gear into lounge clothes to do more research on these men. When you were about to open your laptop, you heard a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and made your way to open it. Sam.
“Can I come in?” He asked. You didn’t reply; you just opened the door for him. He walked in and stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. You set your gun down and folded your arms across your chest. Sam let out a breath and started talking.
“I know you are still pissed, hurt, sad, everything. I meant what I said. I don’t see her anymore. I haven’t had contact with her in weeks. There are many things I want to tell you that I’m going to tell you; I want to know if I still have a chance.” You looked at him like he was stupid.
“I left MONTHS ago. You only stopped seeing her WEEKS ago? You know that first month I was at Bobby’s? You know I didn’t tell him not to tell you where I was? You could have shown up any time you wanted to, Sam! You didn’t! Sure, you left messages on my phone, but let's be honest- you were still with HER! You still chose HER! Now you want to walk into my hotel room and ask if you have a chance when I haven’t seen you for months, and it’s only been a few weeks away from that demon? Do I look like a fucking convenience store to you? You want me back; you have to earn me back. That starts with no contact with her. That starts with you showing me you want to be with me.” One tear left your eye while Sam just looked at you. He nodded his head and started to walk out of the room. Before he crossed over, he looked at you and said softly.
“I still love you.” You didn’t reply, and he walked back to his room. You shut the door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, letting out all the emotions you had been holding in for months.
A little while later, in your measurement time, about half a bottle later, another knock sounded at your door. You got up and stumbled over to your door, opening and seeing Dean. He looked at your state and softened his eyes but then tensed again.
“We need to talk.” That sobered you. You nodded your head and let him in. Dean walked in and turned to face you.
“Sam lied to you.” That is all he said. Your jaw clenched.
“What do you mean?”
“He is still seeing that demon; I’m pretty sure they are together now.”
Red. That is what you saw. In your lounge clothes and all, you grabbed your gun and knife; Dean already had the demon knife on him that Ruby gave the boys a while ago.
“Where the fuck is he?” You asked. Dean led you to Sam’s room. He stopped in front of it.
“Kick it down, Dean.” You spoke. Dean complied, and both of you rushed into the room—the sight before you ripped your heart out and disgusted you simultaneously. Ruby was on top of Sam, no shirt, just a black lace bra and panties. Sam only had boxers on, and he was drinking her blood. His mouth and cheeks had blood on them, and when you two busted through the door, they broke apart, and it was all over his mouth.
Sam’s eyes were wide that he had just been caught, and Ruby had that stupid ass smug smile on her face that you remember all too well. You felt your face heat us as you locked eyes with the demon bitch.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
#supernatural#dean winchester#reader insert#sam winchester#sam x reader#sam winchester x reader#supernatural fanfiction#angst#ruby supernatural
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Twist the knife like it's something to do
Summary: When Nightwing asks you to stake out The Riddler in his warehouse, you come to realise you've played right into his hands
Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), fingering, rough sex, kidnapping, slight dubcon (just to be safe, reader is hesitant but is into it), hair pulling, teasing, Edward being an ass
Words: 5.7k
Notes: So this was an anon request for a vigilante!reader/riddler smut fic but cause i'm useless with technology I accidentally deleted it. Hope you like it anon!
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Irritating.
If there’s one word you’d use to describe The Riddler, that’s what it would be. Irritating…irritating…and so goddamn all consuming. Being a vigilante, you were used to people trying to get under your skin; some sleaze trying to make you uncomfortable when you catch them, some of the big-name criminals beefing up security and trying to learn your tricks. But something about The Riddler was different, a different sort of irritating.
It started the first time you tried to stop him, Nightwing had made you promise to go in through the back and stay put to ensure nobody tried to make a hasty getaway. But you were curious, reckless even, and went in regardless. Little did you know it was Edward’s plan to get caught, but during the commotion he saw you. The look on his face was the picture of curiosity, but at the time you’d figured it was due to the fact you’re a female vigilante. Next thing you knew the lights were out, when they came back, he was gone.
That’s when you started to get named in his riddles. Small at first, little taunts to you as well as the police or Batman after his latest heist or extortion of a wealthy politician. However it heightened when you started to solve them. While trying to track where he’d kidnapped a GCPD officer, you followed the clues addressed to you, which ended in a bouquet of flowers at the end of the trail, attached to the key to the bomb around the officer’s neck. Another time, it led to a phone call with him where he shamelessly asked riddles where the answers were ‘attraction’ and ‘desire’ before revealing where the latest Monet painting he’d taken was hidden. Honestly you didn’t know how much more you could take, how many more times you can hide the blush, or the slight tremor in your voice. It makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, not a vigilante trying to apprehend a dangerous criminal mastermind.
Balancing on a loose beam, you watch as Edward snaps at his goons, mocking them as they fail to give him the responses he wants.
“Anything?” you hear Nightwing say in your earpiece, causing you to climb up so you’re further out of earshot of the villain below.
“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”
“Good, I’ve got three of Penguin’s weapons caches I need to neutralise, the last thing I need is riddle freak on my ass.”
You sigh, knowing you needed to get something to prove yourself as you climb back down, a million thoughts rushing through your head. You were instrumental in the latest hit to organised crime in Gotham; you managed to find and take down a major part of Roman Sionis’s drug operation, even subduing him for the police. He was released on a technicality of course, but it was still a major blow to his criminal dealings. But better than that, it made you feel good. Made you feel like you were making a difference, that Nightwing wasn’t wrong to train you. But that’s when you realise, Edward isn’t talking anymore. He’s just…smiling? Smiling at his computer screen. With grace you manage to get to the upper level of the warehouse, glancing at the other- wait, where did his goons go? You frantically try and look around the warehouse, keeping close to the ground but it’s no use. All you can do is curse yourself, there’s no way he’ll say anything useful about his plans now. However your thoughts come to an abrupt end when your earpiece comes back to life.
“Hey, are you still in there…something-“ A sharp static suddenly bursts through your ear, causing you to yelp softly in pain and pull the earpiece out. The noise continues until it cuts out, followed quickly by the lights. Shrouded in darkness, you slightly panic, standing to your full height and adjusting your suit sleeve, trying to turn on the built in flashlight.
“I can keep you alive, but prevent you from living, what am I?”
The lights kick back in, and your head turns to the side. The Riddler stands there, his self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he twirls his revolver in his hands. You stand there, frozen before you register he’s waiting for you to answer.
“Adrenaline?”
“Fear, but close enough. Did I scare you?”
He steps forward, but your limbs don’t seem to want to move. Towering over you, his eyes trace over your face in a curious way as all you can do is shake your head softly.
“Oh, I didn’t? Well isn’t that something…I’m sorry to have cut your boyfriend off there but, well, can’t have him ruining all my fun can I?”
Jab to the elbow crease, kick to the groin, down up round and a swift punch to the back, all ways you could easily take a guy like The Riddler down. But caught under his gaze, something seems to lock you in place as your breath comes a little heavier than before.
“Come now pretty girl, didn’t you like all my presents? I knew you’d be the one to be here…I planned this all for you.” He delights at your puzzled expression as you stare at him, bringing his revolver up to trace it over your jawline.
“I wanted the bat’s attention, hell I’d have even taken the limited mental capacities of the latest boy blunder he drags around with him. But then…all of a sudden there you were. Even now you’re curious, you aren’t even trying to defend yourself.”
You couldn’t stop the blush even if you tried, because you know he’s right. You know you’re holding back, but then again, you’ve been holding back this whole time because-
“You like it, don’t you? You like my attention.” He murmurs, before smirking. “Oh don’t look so embarrassed darling, you think I don’t like having yours? It’s certainly been thrilling…”
A buzz in his pocket interrupts him, causing him to curse under his breath.
“Well I’ll have to speed this up, come on.” He says quickly, grabbing your arm and putting the revolver against your lower back. “Don’t try and run, I’d hate to test if that suit of yours is bulletproof from this range.”
Pulling you to another part of the warehouse, you feel a sharp prick on your neck before you start to stagger, his breath hitting your ear and making you shiver.
“Sorry sweetheart.” Is the last thing you hear before blacking out, going limp in his arms.
Irritation, that emotion bubbles up in you again as you come to. You sit up on a sofa, your fingers feeling the puncture mark on your neck. You can’t believe you let The Riddler drug you, god you’re gonna hear hell from Nightwing when you get out of here. Glancing around, the apartment you’re in seems oddly cozy, fluorescent light beaming through the windows from a billboard outside. Art on the walls, hardwood flooring that looks polished and waxed…hell you even notice the blanket around your waist. It all looks so surreal, so normal.
“What were you expecting? Not this?”
You jump at the voice, glancing around at him. You stand up, before he sighs and shows the revolver in his hand, indicating for you to sit back down.
“Come now sweetheart, I was nice enough to not tie you up.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“…that’s a matter of perspective. Think of it as a sabbatical of sorts.”
Stalking over, he takes a seat on a chair facing you. The way he sits, so relaxed with his legs spread and that stupid smirk on his face forces you to glance away. Despite the effort it must have taken to transport you here, his suit remains remarkably clean. Less garish than what you’ve seen him wear previously, just a crisp emerald green with a purple tie. His gloved hand messes with his revolver, seemingly unbothered, but you know better. Everything is controlled with Edward; he won’t enter a scenario unless he’s completely sure what he’s getting himself into.
“Like my apartment?” he asks, “One of several of course.”
You try not to scoff at his barely concealed brag, looking at him.
“Is that supposed to impress me?” you bite back, causing him to bark out a laugh.
“Why? Is it working? Can’t imagine being a vigilante pays that well, does the pretty boy give you tips?” he smirks, taunting you about Nightwing. You scoff again, shaking your head.
“No? Shame, I bet you don’t even take a bit off the top of those dealers you take down. No, you’re too much of a good girl for that.”
God that stupid phrase really forces you to try and hide your blush, but Edward catches the slight change in your breathing.
“You know, conversation is much more stimulating when the other party actually responds.”
“Screw you.” You can’t help but say, causing his laugh to ring out again.
“Feisty thing aren’t you? After everything I’ve done to you, maybe all I want is a little chat. Perhaps even a little gratitude.”
With your pause he leans in a little, his eyes scanning over your face.
“You do know it was me…don’t you?” he states, before getting up and picking a newspaper off the nearby table, throwing it to you. Quickly grabbing it, you look at the headline ‘New female vigilante helps take down Black Mask.’
“Convenient wasn’t it? The first thug you interrogate is the one who manages to lead you right to the heart of the operation. The thug who just happens to be in the area you usually patrol on Tuesdays.”
You can’t help but stare at him, bewildered. He paid the thug…he knew you’d catch him dealing and try and interrogate him to reveal where him and the rest of Black Mask’s gang were operating from. “So you…why? Why would you help me?”
“Why do I do anything sweetheart?” he counters, sitting back down. “Sionis was irritating me, that I won’t deny. But being able to manipulate those rats, as well as the pretty girl who’s been solving my riddles? Christmas came early.”
His smug tone causes your breath to come deeper, regardless of his motives he’d…helped you. That realisation causes a swirl of emotions to bubble inside you, unsure which one you should be feeling.
“What? No thank you? I realise you did much of the heavy lifting but…well I did help, didn’t I?”
“You used me, that isn’t helping.”
“Used? No no sweetheart…helped. I think you should say thank you.”
His tone wasn’t demanding per say, but stern. A challenge visible in his eyes. You know you shouldn’t, putting on a dismissive face to hide the slight arousal running through you at his voice.
“Come on…I know you want to. Say thank you.” He says, his voice softer but no less decisive. His foot taps on the hardwood floor, the revolver makes a small noise when he spins it, his eyes bore into yours; it’s all too much. With a shaky breath, you say it.
“Thank you.”
The smile on his face is worth a thousand words. “You’re very welcome sweetheart.”
You blush, in spite of yourself. The praise of a murderer is not something you should be getting flustered over, but here you are. Picking awkwardly at your sleeve, you watch as he adjusts himself.
“You know…this cat and mouse game is fun, don’t get me wrong. But I’ll confess to getting antsy, and I think you feel the same. Don’t you?” he states, before placing the revolver on the floor and kicking it away. “There…no force. Why don’t you come over here?”
Your eyes dart to the gun, realising this is your chance. You can run, beat him to a pulp, leave him for the police to find, look through his apartment for evidence of whatever crime he’s planning next. And then your eyes trail back to him, the way his suit clings to him, the slight smirk playing on his lips.
“Why?” you ask, your voice softer than you meant it to be.
“Because I want to look at you…see you up close.” He replies, his voice matter of fact. So, against your better judgement, you stand and slowly walk towards him. He grins and gently traces your waist, feeling the ridges of your suit. “I’ve thought about this…tell me. Have you?”
You swallow, knowing you can’t lie to him. Your mask may cover the area around your eyes, but you know he can read your expression like a book regardless. “Yes…”
“Intellectual stimulation is often a powerful aphrodisiac, at least for the more intelligent of the species.” He murmurs, gently holding your hip and pulling you down, causing you to perch on his thigh. He never breaks eye contact as he speaks. “You know you can’t feel that…excitement, with anyone else. The thrill of being the only one to figure out my challenges, being the only one to come close to my brilliant mind. Apart from the bat but…well…I don’t think he’d be as eager to sit on my lap as you now, would he?”
You know your cheeks are on fire as you look down on him, your lips parted in a way that’s oh so tempting for Edward. His fingers trail to your back, with ease unclipping your utility belt and letting it fall to the floor. Not once does he look away from you, even when you do. He tuts, giving your thigh a squeeze.
“Eyes on me. I want you to see, to know who’s touching you.”
How could you forget? You almost feel sick as you just let The Riddler feel you up, his fingers running along your thigh, before running back towards your ass. Perhaps you could try and kid yourself, that he’s just coercing you or forcing you, but the thought of that lie makes you feel even sicker. Because the truth is, you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. And he’s barely gotten started.
Looking down at him, you watch as he brings his gloved hand to your mouth, his finger against your plush lips. His eyes were expectant as you gently tug the glove off with your teeth.
“I conduct better without.” He says, his voice a little lower than usual as he makes you repeat it with the other glove. He praises you in a sickly manner as he folds them and places them on the arm of the chair, and you’d laugh at his neatness if you weren’t trying to focus on not whimpering at any small touch he graces you with.
“A ruler’s unthinkable action, a condemned man’s last action, a religious man’s daily action. What am I, pretty girl?” he says into your ear, running his hand up to tug the hair tie out of your hair. Swallowing, you try and think as his fingers gently scratch at your scalp, before he sharply tugs.
“I expect an answer. Don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy, or should I give you a clue?” he teases darkly, giving another tug and causing a soft whimper to escape you. “It’s something I’m sure you’ve thought about.”
You blink softly, before stammering out. “Kneeling…”
“Correct.” He gives you a condescending pat on the cheek. “I knew you were a smart girl.”
You really need to leave now, really need to just take him down and find a way to contact Nightwing. But Grayson isn’t who you’re thinking about, isn’t whose hands are currently putting pressure on your shoulder, guiding you to the open space between his legs, who’s grasping at your jaw and tilting it upwards to look down at you.
“Oh sweetheart…do you know how much I’ve thought about this? If I were a lesser man, my thoughts of you might have forced me to just ask you out directly. But isn’t this better?” It’s unclear whether he’s complimenting you or himself…or maybe a warped version of both, but either way all you can do is look up at him, your thighs squeezing together. Tracing a path down to the top of your suit, he gives the small zip a soft tug before pulling away.
“Won’t you show me more? You can even keep that silly mask on if it makes you feel better.” He prompts, clearly staring at your body and making no attempt to hide it. “I’ll be inclined to reward you if you do.”
This is it. There’s no going back from this, and you both know it. Stripping for a criminal, it would ruin your credibility, your morals, everything. And he’s getting off on it.
“Come on pretty girl…it’s just me and you. How it should be, how it ought to be. Nobody can challenge you like I can.” He goads you, his fingers stroking your cheek. “When’s the last time a man has touched you hm? Or even a woman?”
You’re clearly embarrassed to admit the truth, that with your life suddenly shifting to being a crime fighter you haven’t exactly had time to go on dates, but you can see he wants to hear you. “It’s been a while…”
“Oh I can tell…such a shame.” He smirks, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “So beautiful, and so intelligent. You’re wasted on the fools of this city.”
You’re sure your breathing is audible now, your mind slightly hazy as you listen to his words. Just once…can’t hurt, can it? You can lie…tell Nightwing you were kidnapped but fought your way out. Nobody would know. Apart from him.
“But you won’t be wasted on me. I deserve you sweetheart. You know it.”
He deserves you. You’re beautiful and he deserves you. You start to unzip your suit, shrugging out of it before you can even comprehend what you’re doing. He deserves you.
“Good…good girl. That’s it.”
While great for stealth and combat, you curse yourself at the complexities of your suit as you strip in not the most elegant way. Although it doesn’t look like he minds, his eyes drinking in the feast that is your body. You end up stripping into your simple bra and underwear, to which he hums in satisfaction.
“Aren’t you a picture, I knew you would be.” He praises, although he doesn’t move from the chair. You blush as you can guess what he wants, eyeing the bulge straining against his suit trousers.
“Now I want you to touch yourself.”
The bluntness of his request was certainly not what you were expecting as your eyes snap up to meet his.
“What?”
“You heard me doll. I want you to touch yourself. The way you do at night, when it’s just you. Don’t be shy.”
“Easy for you to say...” you mumble quietly, causing him to smirk. Somehow the thought of giving him a blowjob was less embarrassing than pleasuring yourself between his legs.
“Alright you make a fair point. Here.” He starts to unbuckle his belt, gently placing it on top of his gloves before unbuttoning his trousers. “Start touching, and you’ll see more.”
You nod slowly, reaching down to your underwear and gently feeling how wet you are. His eyes narrow slightly as he watches, before looking at your face again.
“Tell me, have you thought about me? In general…when you weren’t solving my riddles?”
“Yes…” you breathe gently, before you can stop yourself.
“When did you start?”
“After you…started to address me in your puzzles.”
“Ah…” he laughs a little, deep and throaty. “Did you like the flowers darling? They were expensive.”
Your fingers rub circles over your clothed clit, nodding a little. “That night was when I first went home and researched you properly…”
It was true, Nightwing had given you intel on all the major players of the Gotham underworld when he first started training you. You were familiar with The Riddler, but that night was different. You could almost hear his voice when you read his riddles back, hear the taunts and the condescension.
“What did you find?” he murmurs, stroking your jaw.
“Watched a video…when you hacked GCN Central and broadcasted from their studio.”
Edward smirks, remembering the day well. “Oh? And did you like it? What I did? Did it excite you?”
You whimper in pleasure and embarrassment because he was right. You did. You can’t forget how your face felt like it was burning when he was mocking them, his voice cascading down your spine and causing your body to react.
“Yes…I liked it. I liked how in control you were.” The words spill out of your mouth before you can register what you’re admitting to, but Edward looks like he’s on cloud nine.
“Oh you filthy girl, did it make you wet? Seeing how scared they were? The people you fight every night to protect?” he taunts, but the slight breathlessness of his tone portrays just how much this is all affecting him too. You nod, ashamed and oh so aroused as your fingers dip inside your underwear, the throbbing of your clit nearly unbearable.
“That night I thought about you too.” He states, his eyes drawn to your pleasure. “Thought about what it might look like to have you all to myself. Thought about tying you up, seeing how much pleasure you could take before you cracked. Seeing how many of my riddles your mind could take before you begged for me.”
His words only further fuel the fire of your desperation, your fingers speeding up. Small moans escape your lips, your mind foggy as the only light that cuts through is him, his voice, his small touches. In response he lets out a quiet groan, his hand tugging at your hair again.
“You’ve been on my mind for so long, so much of my mental energy has been wasted on these fantasies with you. You’ve nearly ruined me.” He snarls, like it’s your fault. But it only makes you whine louder, your fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
His eyes are like a hawk, not missing the way you’re trembling, the way your breath is coming out sharper, so he suddenly speaks. “Stop. Don’t you dare cum yet.”
The pitiful sound that escapes your mouth sounds foreign to your own ears, as he pulls at your arm to ensure you can’t pleasure yourself anymore. “It was a cute show doll, but when you cum you’ll be damn sure I’m the one doing it to you.”
You nod, as he finally frees himself from his trousers to relieve the pressure as you gaze down at him. Slightly above average, but it could have been three inches smaller for all you care, the need for him overwhelming. He smirks down at you, pumping himself a few times as you watch.
“On the sofa.” He demands, and you’re quick to comply. Not that he really lets you, as he manhandles you quickly so you’re bent over for him, pulling your underwear down sharply. “God you’re drenched. Who knew Gotham’s newest vigilante sweetheart was such a slut for criminals.”
“Just you…” you say without thinking, which causes the groan that escapes him to sound almost like a whine.
“Just me doll, that’s right. Nobody else can get you like this…nobody.”
He can’t resist plunging his fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around his digits as he moves them deliberately. Pushing your head against the cushions, you moan to muffle the sound before he pulls your head back by your hair yet again.
“Oh no no no… I didn’t go through all the trouble of helping you, of showing off all my goddamn brilliance for you, just so you could hide your pretty noises from me.”
His tone leaves little room for argument as you shiver and moan for him. Eventually it’s clear he just can’t take it anymore, pulling his fingers out and starting to position himself at your entrance. He taps at it, catching your clit deliberately.
“Ask me nicely…tell me I’m what you want.” He demands, but it almost sounds like a plea. Either way you’re helpless against him.
“Please…I need you. I want you; I only want you.” You beg, and finally he does what he’s been wanting, what you’ve been wanting for months. He pushes into you, savouring every second as he takes you for himself. You both moan, his hands gripping at your hips, your waist, your ass, almost like he’s overwhelmed with having you. He doesn’t waste anytime once he’s sure you’re adjusted, pulling back and snapping his hips forward.
“God look at you…moaning like this for a criminal. You like it? Like The Riddler fucking you sweetheart?” he taunts, his mouth seemingly not being able to stop running even as he fucks his desperation into you. Still, you nod and breathlessly tell him what he wants to hear, causing his grip on your hips to tighten.
“That’s right, of course you do. It’s a privilege to have me fuck you, have me be interested in you. I could have just taken you out.” He threatens, but it’s hard for him to sound as dangerous as you know deep down he is when the breath is being punched out of him with every thrust. “But who else can I…fuck…can I mentally challenge, and then fuck them like my own goddamn pet?”
You swear your eyes almost cross as he rails you. It’s everything you need from him; sharp, desperate and unbelievably pleasurable. He unhooks your bra, placing it by your side as he grabs at your tits; the action eliciting a sharp gasp from you. His thumbs circle your nipples, slightly clumsily from the pace he’s maintaining with his hips. Clawing at the sofa, you grip on to anything to keep you stable. Any doubts or second thoughts in your mind are being fucked away with every punishing thrust inside you.
“So pretty…thought a girl who looks like you would have nothing going on upstairs. Although I suppose right now you don’t.” he laughs before groaning as you tighten around him. He grabs your throat and pulls you so your back arches and he can look down at your face. “Bet I’m fucking you dumb, aren’t I doll?”
You make a noise that almost sounds like a yes, but Edward wasn’t looking for a straight answer anyway. He knows he is, can see the vacant and dazed look in your eyes as he continues to ravage you with everything he has. Eventually he growls and pulls out.
“Turn over sweetheart, need to see you.” He says, and who are you to deny him. Once you’re on your back he pushes in again roughly, placing a pillow underneath your hips. He starts thrusting at the same pace as before, placing your legs on his shoulders as he tests your flexibility.
“That’s it, taking me so well. Knew you would, knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” He states, his hands groping at your chest again before one comes up to grasp your neck. He doesn’t apply pressure, just keeps you looking at him. “Such a sight, you’re a vision like this.”
You whimper and look at his lips, and luckily, he gets the hint. Lips collide frantically, his tongue completely dominating your mouth in a messy kiss. Saliva connects both of you as he pulls away, but neither of you seem to care, going in for seconds. You bite at his bottom lip softly, causing him to groan and snap his hips harder against you, your cry satisfying him as he pulls back to look at you.
Your fingers grip tight onto his shoulder, before frantically pulling at his tie. Luckily he gets the hint, pulling at the fabric and shrugging off his jacket. Despite his pace he still manages to somewhat neatly place them on the floor, before you hastily unbutton his shirt. Dragging your nails down his exposed chest causes his body to shiver, a soft noise escaping his throat as he grabs your wrists and pins them down.
His hand leaves them to trail up to your cheek, his finger brushing against your mask. Every rational thought still left in your head is screaming at you not to do it, but you’re already in this deep. So with a moan, you reach up and unclip your mask, letting it fall to the side. It’s not like you’re anyone famous, just a waitress trying to do some good in the world. At least that’s what you were doing, before you let a supervillain rearrange your insides.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes looking at your face in its full glory as his pace slows. Finally, he utters one simple word.
“Beautiful.”
Those three syllables make you feel more pleasure than all of your exes combined, the tone of his voice causing your pussy to throb as your hips twitch. He grits his teeth as he feels you, fucking you harder again as his fingers quickly rub at your clit.
“Need you to cum around me…think you can give me that? Give me your gratitude for helping you?” he murmurs, smirking as you nod eagerly. You know it won’t be long, his pace even and punishing inside you. “Yeah I know you can doll, I know you can cum for me. Do it.”
After a minute longer, you scratch at his shoulders as you feel yourself let go, finishing the hardest you have in your entire life. Your orgasm almost knocks you out, eyes squeezed closed as the noises stream from your throat like running water. The tightening and pain from your nails cause havoc for Edward’s self-control, a few moments later pulling out and pumping himself before spilling over your stomach. You both catch your breath, the intensity of your encounter something neither one of you expected to be quite so strong. After a few moments, he gently strokes your cheek.
“So lovely, all for me.”
You can’t even deny that the possessiveness of his tone doesn’t make your chest feel fuzzy, gazing up at him. For a moment you don’t see The Riddler, the man who terrorises Gotham, you just see Edward. Although that thought flies away when his fingers dip down between your thighs, feeling your juices and playing with you. You whimper, slightly overstimulated as he smirks.
“No no, don’t run away from me.” He says lowly, gripping your hip with his other hand to keep you still and stop you squirming. “I know you can give me another one doll.”
Your cunt makes embarrassingly wet sounds as he plays with you, stroking your clit before pushing his fingers inside you again. You gasp and grasp at his arms, causing him to pull out for a moment to manoeuvre you. Laying with your back against his chest, he plays your body like an instrument, groping at your chest before going back between your thighs. One hand digs his nails into the meat of your thigh as the other sinks two fingers deep inside and curls them.
“There we go, good girl. Just moan for me, let me turn off that brain of yours completely. I’ll do the thinking for us both.”
His breath tickles your ear as you writhe against him, whimpering as you feel not just his fingers inside of you but his cum drying on your stomach. You can feel his grin as he collects his cum on his fingers, before tapping your bottom lip. Obediently you part your lips, letting him press his digits on your tongue, tasting him.
“You’re so good, better than all my fantasies combined.” He whispers, his fingers speeding up inside you, your thighs shaking. Moving his one hand to your tits, he gently pinches just to watch you squirm more. You can’t control the sounds pouring out of your mouth, your hips chasing the pleasure he’s giving you. After everything, it isn’t long before you feel another orgasm creeping up on you, your walls tightening.
“That’s right, cum again for me. Let a criminal make a mess of you.” He taunts before gently sucking on a spot below your ear. It only takes a few moments more before you’re cumming again, crying out his name as your back arches. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, pulling his fingers out slowly before licking them clean himself. You feel boneless, sinking back against him as the tension leaves every fibre of your body.
“Aren’t you something. If I wasn’t so spent from before I might have felt inclined to take you again.” He says, his hands stroking up and down your arms. “Did you enjoy yourself sweetheart?”
The way he speaks, his soft tone makes you forget about the circumstances behind what you two had just done. All you can do is nod softly, basking in the afterglow of the two best orgasms of your life. You’re not sure how long you lie against him, but your eyes start to flutter closed. He laughs softly and strokes your cheek.
“When’s the last time you actually slept through the night?” he asks, to which he laughs again at your dissatisfied noise. “Just sleep sweetheart.”
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Nightwing says, holding your arm as he looks at you. “Couldn’t connect to your earpiece, when I found it on the floor I assumed the bastard got you.”
You quickly shake your head, trying to reassure him. “It’s nothing, don’t worry. He got the drop on me, but I managed to get away.” Technically not a lie, although you had to wait until nightfall after you woke up lest someone see Gotham’s newest vigilante leaving an apartment fully suited up in the middle of the day.
“Good.” He murmurs angrily, “I don’t want you doing anything like that again without backup. Don’t argue.”
You sigh as he interrupts before you could protest, before his stupid smile comes back on his face. “He flirt with you again?”
Your expression falters, which causes a cheeky laugh to escape him. “As if he even has a chance.”
“You have no idea.” You reply with a small laugh.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hope you enjoyed it x
#the riddler x reader#riddler smut#dc fanfic#dc smut#edward nygma#edward nygma smut#dc x reader#riddler x reader#edward nygma x reader#the riddler
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Marcus
Pairing: Marcus (Pike, Moreno, Acacius) x f!reader
Word Count: 6900+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes: I saw a post from @pimosworld innocently asking for a Marcus bachlorette style fic and, while this isn't exactly right, this is what my brain came up with. Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to me ramble and helping me, as well as @vanemando15 for being a cheerleader!
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Marcus Moreno Masterlist
Marcus Pike Masterlist
Marcus Acacius Masterlist
“Thanks for coming to Level Up Comics!” I smile at the customer as I hand them their bag, a quiet grunt all I get in return before they head out the door, the little bell jingling with their exit. I stretch, walking around from behind the counter and heading back towards the display case where several boxes sit in front, unopened figurines and collectibles pouring from them. My family and friends thought I was crazy for opening a physical media store in this age of digital products. They said no one would come in let alone want to actually buy “this crap.”
But here I am, a few years after opening, and I’m doing pretty good for myself. There are still collectors out there who want their favorites in case something happens to their files. They want the figurines from the original manufacturers, rather than printing them themselves. I can’t blame them. There’s something different, something magical about reading the printed word, having a figure of your favorite character that was made decades ago by something other than a 3D printer in someone’s basement.
The bell jingles and I yell out a greeting, shoving a few more figures in the back of the case before standing and turning, a pair of dark brown eyes meeting mine. I can already feel the smile on my face.
“Hi, Marcus!” Shit, was that too enthusiastic? If it is, he doesn’t let on, his own smile shyly spreading across his face. “How…how are you?”
He rubs the back of his neck with his large hand, his eyes darting away from mine. “I’m..I’m good. You?”
“Good. That’s good. I mean, I’m good. Good. It’s all…good.” What the fuck?
He chuckles lightly, looking anywhere but at me. “Good.”
We’re both silent for several moments. He’s so hot. Way out of my league hot. And the weird thing is, I don’t even think he realizes just how attractive he is.
“Did my back issue of X-Men come in?”
“Oh!” I slap my forehead. “I almost forgot! Yes. Let me get that for you.” Trying desperately to hide the heat in my cheeks, I quickly walk around the counter, kneeling to sift through the special order pile.
“You got more figures in?”
“Yeah,” I yell from my crouched position. “There’s a few bins in the back I haven’t emptied yet. Feel free to have a look!”
“Thanks.” I hear him shuffle off towards the back of the shop just as I locate his order. The door bell dings again and I stand, smoothing down my jeans. A man stands at the counter, his bright blue eyes roaming up and down my body before her plasters on the most ingenuine smile I’ve ever seen.
“Hi. How can I help you?” I ask him as I place Marcus’s order on the counter.
“Hi beautiful. I’m looking for a comic.”
I internally sigh. I already know where this is going. It happens several times a week.
“Well you’ve come to the right shop. What are you looking for?”
He chuckles, intending to be endearing. It isn’t. “I’m looking for a very specific issue of Hawkeye. You know who that is?”
Seriously? “I am very familiar with Hawkeye. Are you?”
He scoffs. “Haha. You’re a funny, pretty thing. Anyway, I’m looking for a specific run of his. Do you know what that means?”
Anger surges through me and I grip the desk to ground myself. Out of the corner of my eye I see Marcus at the back of the store, standing and turning towards us but not moving. He’s even hot in my peripheral.
“Which run are you looking for? Or are you wanting a recommendation?”
He laughs, the vile sound of it echoing off the walls. “A recommendation? From you? What would you know? You’re just a pretty little girl.”
A clunk from the back of the store and I see Marcus trip over one of the boxes. He doesn’t go down, but turns to fix the boxes that he’s kicked over. The man in front of me is unphased, his eyes still on me, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
“Well?” He spits out.
I look at him, giving him a smile. “Well, if you’re asking me personally, my favorite run is the Matt Fraction run. Not only because of his artistic style and great story, but the fact that they weaved in Clint’s deafness, drawing him wearing his hearing aids, and even doing an entire issue completely in American Sign Language. A great story and representation of a marginalized community from, in my opinion, one of the best and most relatable Avengers. Now, would you like the individual issues, an omnibus, or the digital version?”
The smug smile slowly fades from his face, his eyes hardening. “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”
“I do when customers act like a bitch.”
He grabs the fliers on the counter and throws them at me, turning towards the door. “Fuck you and this place!” He tries to slam the door behind him but he fumbles with the handle, flipping me off one final time before disappearing around the corner.
I sigh, bending down to pick up the fliers. A hand reaches out, large and inviting, carefully helping me pick up the scattered papers. I look up at him, at Marcus, sweet Marcus. Who had heard all of that.
“I’m sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have lost my cool.”
He hands me the small stack he’s collected, meeting my gaze. “You don’t have to apologize for standing up to a sexist asshole. I should be the one who’s sorry.”
I combine our stacks, both of us standing as I tap them on the counter to even them out. “Why should you apologize?”
“I should’ve come to help,” he rubs the back of his neck, his ear turning slightly pink.
I shake my head. “No, Marcus don’t worry about it. I get assholes like that all the time. Really, it’s ok.”
He shakes his head. “It’s really not-”
To my own surprise, I reach out and squeeze his arm. “Really, I’m ok. Thank you, Marcus.”
He smiles at me, opening his mouth to say something, but his phone rings from inside his pocket. “Sorry. Sorry.” He pulls it out, tapping on the clear screen only he can see. “Shit. I have to take this. Work. You sure you’re ok?”
I smile, trying not to show my sadness at his leaving. “I am. Hope everything’s ok at work.”
“Thanks. I’ll uh…see you around.” His eyebrows pull together as his phone rings again, his eyes moving down to the screen before he turns around and heads out the door, pausing to give me a wave through the window before he disappears into the crowd.
I’ll never meet a man owning this shop. They’re either assholes, taken, or hopelessly out of my league. My own phone beeps and I pull it out, scanning the clear screen with my reservation confirmation. I tap the confirm button, nerves flooding my system.
I can’t believe I signed up for a virtual version of the bachelorette.
—----
I closed the shop early and rushed home to get ready for that night. I arrive promptly at 7pm as they requested, the giant VIRTUAL LIFE logo on the side of the building bathing the sidewalk in bright blue light. I take a deep breath and walk inside, the door disappearing momentarily to let me in before reappearing behind me. The front desk assistant guides me to a row of elevators and instructs me to head to floor 28. I’m the only one in the elevator, the lights illuminating each floor as we pass it. The elevator stops and the doors open to a small waiting room, black leather couches and chairs surround a coffee table with several tablets, each loaded with some form of entertainment. While it looks like there are windows, if you look closely, you can tell they’re simulated, trying to grant us as much privacy as possible. Although, I think it may be more about guarding their own technology secrets.
“Ivy?” a woman calls my name from the only doorway in the room aside from the elevator. I nod, standing and smoothing down my dress.
“That’s me.”
“Right this way.” She leads me into another small office, a simple desk with a single chair for me to sit in. She sits opposite me at the desk, tapping in mid air at what I’m assuming is the computer screen in front of her.
“Ivy it says here you signed up for the bachelorette program to meet a compatible mate. Is that correct?”
Swallowing down my embarrassment, I nod. “Y-yeah.”
She taps a few more things. “Great. Do you know how this works?”
“You guys take a picture of my brain and show me a story?”
She chuckles, the first time her professional demeanor has broken. “Almost but not quite. After we’re done here, you will be taken to the simulation room. You’ve already done your physical-”
“Yeah. They had me put on this suit and they captured the way I moved. Motion capture, I think?”
She nods. “Yes that’s it exactly. This way, your avatar inside your world will move like you. It helps with immersion.” I nod. “They also completed your brain scan to find the most viable dates and look of mate that you are searching for. You indicated you’re looking for a male mate, is that correct?”
I nod. “Yeah. Yes.”
She nods. “Alright. If you’ll go through the door, someone in scanning will take you. Good luck!” She gestures to a door on the opposite wall from where we entered. I go through the door and another woman greats me, leading me to chair where she has me sit and get comfortable. It reminds me of what the dentist chairs used to look like except way more comfortable. She turns to me, holding a helmet with different little lights on it.
“Any questions?”
“Yeah. So what will he..I mean, how will I know who he is?”
“You will just know. Sort of like in a regular video game, where you can tell who is important to talk to.”
“Ok..but…will he look like him or?”
That’s reassuring. But then she interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t forget, he will be there too also looking for you.”
She shakes her head. “Your algorithm took in your scan and will give him the appearance of someone you find appealing or comforting. We’ve found it’s easier to accept someone if they have an outward appearance you’re already familiar with.”
“So you base connections on personality as opposed to looks?”
She nods. “Those relationships have the highest success rate, so yes.”
“And after, will you show me who he is?”
She nods. “In the simulation, you’ll go on 3 dates. They may be something as simple as communicating in an office to being a superhero or even traveling back in time. The algorithm takes both of your likes, dislikes, and desires and places you in situations. The more you play along and immerse yourself, or yourselves, into the simulation, the better the outcome, meaning a closer connection. And don’t worry - you cannot be physically harmed. And if it’s too much or you want to stop, you only need to say “End simulation”. Please be aware that time may pass differently in the simulation, but you will only be in for an hour. After, you will both meet here, in reality, and can determine whether you’d like to continue with a relationship or not. Any more questions?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not at the moment, anyway.”
She places the helmet on my head, the nodes all changing different colors as it comes in contact with me. She squeezes my shoulder and I look up at her. “Just relax and try to go with the theme. It’s more fun that way, ok?”
I nod, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
“Good luck!” She taps a button on her clear screen and my vision fades to black so just a couple of seconds. But then I’m blinking awake, the tips of my fingers tingling and my toes feeling like they just woke up. My vision starts to clear and the room comes into focus. I’m sitting at a bar, a fancier bar, which explains the nice dress. As my hearing levels out, I realize that the blonde man to my right is talking to me, his body shifted in my direction. His grey eyes are slightly unsettling. This can’t be my mate, can it?
“...and so I had them fired! Can you imagine? I asked for my steak to be medium and they brought it out medium well. That will teach that guy to listen to the customer at his next job.” Grey Eyes chuckles and takes a sip of the drink in front of him. He nods towards the glass in front of me. “Do you want another?”
“What? Oh, uh sure.”
He flags the bartender down and orders a rum and coke before making a show of leaning on his beefy arm against the bar. “I’m glad you finally saw reason and agreed to come out with me tonight.”
I give him a small smile. “Yeah. Same here.” This doesn’t feel right. Maybe they got it wrong? Someone bumps into me from behind and grey eyes catches me, glaring at the person who bumped me, who had moved on.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah. It’ll take more than a drunk asshole to bring me down.” Grey Eyes laughs, picking up his glass and holding it up towards me. “I’ll drink to that.” I glance down to grab my drink, only to find it wasn’t there. I look back at Grey Eyes and see him frozen in place, the smirk on his face completely gone, his glass shaking as he continues to hold it in mid air. My glass appears next to his, lightly clicking against his glass.
“Now that’s not very nice.” That voice. I would know his voice anywhere. My entire body relaxes as I turn to look into the dark brown eyes that I love so much.
“Marcus!” I exclaim, ignoring the vein in grey eye’s neck that’s threatening to pop. Marcus on the other hand, looks good. I mean, he always looks good to me but he’s dressed in nice black pants and a light blue button up shirt with matching black jacket. I’m not sure how a blue shirt makes his brown eyes pop, but it does. Marcus pushes his black frames up his nose.
“Hey, Ivy. Sorry to interrupt your date, but this not so kind gentlemen put a little something in your drink.”
“He what?” I blink rapidly a few times, trying to pry my eyes away from him. Grey Eyes vein relaxes somewhat and he sputters out.
“Fuck you man! We’re on a date! What….what are you doing to me?”
Marcus shrugs. “Well, you wanted to make it so she can’t move. Only fair if I return the favor.”
Grey Eyes goes to say something else, but then seems to recognize the man standing next to me, his eyes going wide.
“Aren’t you the guy that can move metal?”
My eyes snap to Marcus, who is smiling. “I see I have a fan.”
Grey Eyes tries to backtrack. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. I was just trying to get her to loosen up a bit. Have some fun.”
Marcus looks at me, his brown eyes wide and smiling. “Ivy, do you wish to continue your date with this man?”
“Nope.” I pop the “p” sound at the end of the word. “Little hard to have fun when my date is trying to render me unconscious.”
Marcus waves the bartender over. “Call the police. This man is in possession of Freeze Me.”
A handful of what felt like seconds later, several officers show up and arrest Grey Eyes, who barely puts up a struggle. I turn towards Marcus, my smile stretching my face as I grab his arm. “My hero.”
His eyes dart around the room, his arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “It was nothing.”
Gosh he’s so cute when he does that neck rub thing. Wait. Gotta play along.
“Is Marcus the Metal Bender actually acting shy around me?”
He chuckles nervously and I think how perfect they coded him. Like he was picked out of my brain. Which I guess he was.
“Just trying to be respectful.”
I wish he wouldn’t. Wait, are we even allowed to have sex in here? Wow, getting ahead of yourself there, Ivy.
“Youwannagetoutofhere?” He speaks so fast it all comes out in a jumble and I cock my head to the side.
“What?”
He swallows hard and I can’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Hell yeah I do.”
—-
It’s a few weeks later, or at least it feels like some time has passed. That lady did say time passes differently here. Now I’m in an office building, a stack of files in my arms, walking down the hall. A quick glance around tells me I’m in the Heroics head quarters. Marcus appears from around the corner and looks up at me, smiling and walking towards me. But then a man in a much too tight blue suit with a glowing M on it joins him, Marcus’s shoulders sagging slightly as he gives me a sad little wave.
“When are you two going to go on a date already?” A woman with bright pink hair appears next to me.
“I uh, me?”
She slaps my shoulder. “Yes, you Ivy.” She leans in closer to my ear. “Aren’t you the one who confessed to having a crush on our heroic leader?”
I will the heat rising in my face to not show. “Oh, I uh..I-”
“You know he likes you too.” Her jaw drops when she sees the confused look on my face. “Oh don’t tell me you can’t tell! That man can hardly look at you and he’s taken down alien forces by just staring at them.”
She feels like a close friend so I go with it. “Yeah, ok I like him. Keep your voice down, will you?” She continues walking with me to the end of the hall where I deposit the stack of files into several slots, each one making a small whoosh sound as they’re whisked away to their destinations.
When I’m done, Pink Hair gently grabs my face and turns me to her. “I love you, Ivy. You know you’re like the sister I never had. So please listen to me when I say ask that man out before something happens and you regret not ever trying.”
Well fuck. That is…really spot on to reality isn’t it?
I never get a chance to answer her as the entire building suddenly shakes, alarms and lights screeching and illuminating the halls. One of the tall filing cabinets starts to topple in my direction and I can only look on in horror, frozen in place by the rumbling building. I throw my hands up, as if that’s going to stop it, but nothing happens. The cabinet is laid gently on its side, floating to the ground.
“Come on!” I look up into those dark eyes, Marcus extending his hand to me and helping me to my feet. “We have to get out of here!” He tightens his grip and somehow leads us out of the chaotic building out into the streets. Which is also nuts. People are running everywhere and…wait. Is that an alien spaceship coming towards us??
Marcus pulls me behind a wall, glancing around it and waving hand signals to a small group of heroes across the street behind another wall, Pink Hair amongst them. He turns back to me, his face full of worry as he starts to take his shirt off, exposing…not skin but a uniform? No. His hero costume, which is a black shirt,and arm bands. He sees me staring down and he shrugs. “I normally have a tach vest but we’re out of time.”
“Should you not go out there without one?”
Marcus shakes his head. “I have to support my team. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I mean, people safe.”
“You could just stay here with me? The others can handle-” my words are cut off by a giant laser beam cutting through the street, coming directly from the ship.
He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Get yourself to safety. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I need you to be safe.” Another laser beam, the sound of some smaller buildings crumbling to the ground. “Go! Get to safety!” He releases my hand.
I get a glimpse of the deep craters that lasers had left in their wake through the cement of the street, the piles of rubble and dust, and this spurs me on.
“Marcus?” He leans against the wall, readying himself, but he looks at me.
“Yeah?”
Mustering up my courage, I lean towards his hunched body, softly planting a kiss on his lips. When I pull back, I see his chest heaving, his eyes moving between mine.
“Please make it back, Marcus.”
Before he can answer, the ship comes into view and his team moves out, following behind Miracle Guy, who had flown right up the ship and started punching it. Marcus’s head whips around, assessing the situation and I squeeze his arm once more before quickly moving out of the immediate area. I know I should move more, but I can’t get hurt so…
The fight that ensues between the ship, the aliens inside, and the Heroics team is nothing short of brilliant. They may argue in the halls, but in the field, they all take direction from Marcus, who is a brilliant leader, playing all of their strengths. Marcus bends metal like it’s made of playdough, a beautiful dance of destruction and strength. Then the ship comes crashing down, everyone moving out of the way except-
“Marcus!” I emerge from my hiding place at a full run as the smoke around the alien ship that’s currently scraping along the road as it crashes and envelops Marcus. The ship stops, groaning as it falls back and lays still, no other life forms moving or detected on board. For a few moments, no one moves. Then Marcus emerges from the smoke, his face soot stained and a small gash in his shirt and along his cheek, but otherwise unharmed.
“Marcus!” I run to him, his eyes finding mine, his entire body relaxing as he realizes I’m safe, just before I launch myself into his arms, our lips crashing together as my right hand fists in his shirt, my left tugging on his hair. Miracle Guy wolf whistles but I couldn’t care less. I feel his tongue gently lick out and I part my lips, letting him take whatever he wants. But before it can go any further, my vision starts to blacken, the last thing I see is Marcus’s eyes going out of focus as he succumbs to his own transition to the next simulation.
—----
I find myself blinking awake for the second time in what feels like weeks, but I know in reality it’s only been maybe 20 minutes that I was in there. The tips of my fingers and toes are tingling, my vision and hearing clearing and I find myself in…a breakroom. Am I back at the Heroics? The slight weight in my hand takes my focus and I realize I’m holding a cup of tea. I must be on my break. I walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking outside. I’m not back at Heroics - the cityscape is all wrong. I hear the door open behind me and I turn, the smile on my face widening as Marcus enters the room. His hair is shorter than the last simulation. And his face is clean shaven, which is a look I’ve never seen on him before. Not that it matters - he’s beautiful no matter what. I wonder what he’ll look like when he’s a little older. Probably hot as-
“Hey, Ivy.” Marcus smiles down at me, grabbing his own mug and pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe. I notice the FBI logo on the mug and figure that must be where we are.
“Hey, Marcus.” I take a sip of my tea as we both watch the other. But then the door opens again, another agent walking into the room. He claps his hands together, looking at us.
“Hey! Congrats on finally cracking that art case, you two! 8 months is a long time to do an operation like that. Great work!” He shakes both of our hands as we thank him. Marcus catches my eye and, with a small movement, jerks his head towards the door. I nod, thanking the other agent again and follow Marcus out of the tiny breakroom and down the hall, stopping in front of an office door labeled MARCUS PIKE. I wonder if that's his name back In reality. He extends his arm towards his office and I head inside, smiling at him as I do, noting how his eyes dart around, that hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he closes the door behind him.
“I uh…great work, Ivy.”
“You too.”
He puts his hands in his pockets and finally looks me in my eyes and he nods once.
“Listen. Do you..uh..I mean, would you like to…this is coming out all weird.”
I squeeze his arm and he looks down at my hand, taking a deep breath.
“Would you like to get something to eat?”
My stomach erupts in butterflies. “Like on a date?”
The redness in his eyes spreads down onto his cheeks as he stammers, gesturing around vaguely. “No! No, not uh. Not a date.”
I can feel my face falling. “Oh.”
“Uh, unless you…uh…unless you want to? Make it a…a date?” His eyes are wide and bright, like a damn puppy.
I smile, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you, Marcus.”
His smile is bright, lighting up the room. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He let's out a sigh of relief. “Great! I found this great pancake place.”
Pancakes? I love this man already. “It's nearly dinner time!” I can't help the small giggle that I let out.
“Yeah, well you said your favorite food is pancakes. And they're open 24 hours.”
He remembered my favorite food? I'm so screwed. Damn this program is good. “You're right! I'd love to get pancakes with you. On a date. For a date. When will this date be, by the way?”
“Oh. I uh, would it be too weird if we went tonight? Is that too soo-”
“No! I mean, yes! No it's not too soon. I'd love to go!” If my heart could stop beating through my chest, that would be great. It's not that I'm some young girl getting asked on her first date. I just really like Marcus. Or whomever this is. My heart sinks at the thought of it not being the Marcus I know in reality.
“Great! I'll pick you up at 7? Unless you'd rather meet me there? I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Marcus, we just spent 8 months together on assignment. I think I'm comfortable around you.”
He chuckles. “Fair point.” His office phone rings and he apologizes to me, picking it up. I wave ro him and he mouths “See you at 7!”
—----
He picks me up with a flourish of flowers, all long legs and button up shirt that I'm really dying to unbutton. If that's even allowed here.
But what's more than that is the conversation. I thought I had learned everything about him over the last 8 months. I was very wrong.
“You were a bass player in a band?” I ask, choking on my drink.
He laughs, holding his hands up in front of him. “What can I say? I wanted to meet more people.”
“I bet you had all the girls hanging on you.”
Marcus shrugs. “Not really. They all want to date the drummer or the singer.”
“Really? Not the sexy bass player?”
Marcus takes too large of a sip of his drink and coughs, pounding his chest. “No, not the…you think I'm sexy?”
I set my fork down and meet his eyes. “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here.”
We spend several moments, just looking at each other and then I remember that he's not a simulation but a real person on the other end of those eyes. My heart squeezes thinking about how it won't actually be Marcus. Despite that thought, we really get along well and the conversation flows freely between us. Sooner than I’d like, we’re leaving the small diner, heading back to my place. Marcus parks in my driveway and turns to me, his eyes bright and wide like a damn puppy. We had been talking about books, one of my favorite topics.
“..and I know everyone complains that Tolkien takes 20 pages to describe a flower, but I really love that attention to detail. It makes it more immersive for me. One of these days I’ll get you to read Lord of the Rings!” I tap my fingers on his bicep to emphasize my point.
Marcus rubs his neck. “I uh…I already have.”
My jaw drops. “What? When??”
“When you told me it was your favorite book. Or books, I should say.”
I think back. “Marcus, that was…months ago!”
His eyes meet mine, the light from the street lamp outside adding a sparkle to them. “You said they were your favorite so…I read them.”
My stomach does flips, my heart beating. “You read them all for me?”
He nods. “Even the Silmarillion.”
I can’t help it. This is so fucking hot. I reach out and grip his shirt, pulling him to me, his soft lips pressing against mine, the heat between us quickly rising. His large hand cradles the back of my head, holding me to him as his other hand settles on my hip, squeezing it lightly. We make out for several minutes, Marcus kissing and nipping a path down my neck.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask breathlessly.
He pulls back and looks at me. “I do but-” he whispers. “Are we allowed?”
“I…I’m not sure. We could try to-”
But then my vision starts to blacken around the edges, and before I pass out, I hear Marcus say “See you in the next one!” before we both black out.
—----
Now familiar with the way I wake in these simulations, I wiggle my fingers and toes, giving myself a moment to figure out where I am. The room looks…ok, this isn’t from my time. Roman decor and pillars line the grand bedroom, some food laying on a small table for, I’m assuming, me. A quick glance down shows me in a beautiful white garb and I marvel for a moment at how clean it is.
BOOM!
The ground shakes and I duck down, completely caught off guard. It’s only after the boom dies down that I hear it - the distant sound of clanking swords and men yelling. I walk to the small window set into the wall and look out, my brain taking a moment to process the scene in front of me.
I’m several floors up in a sort of round building, a castle I realize as I see the lower tiers, more square in their shape. I’m sure the grounds would have been beautiful, if it weren’t for the massive amounts of soldiers fighting in the streets. I can make out their bodies, the blood, sweat, and dirt spreading almost like a disease. Spear and swords burst from chests or stomachs, limbs separating from their bodies to be lost to the throngs of soldiers. The seem to be moving closer to the castle, which I’m not sure if I want to happen or not. Turning on my sandaled heel, I walk to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to listen. Hearing nothing, I try to open it. Nothing. The door doesn’t open or move, the handle locked into place.
Well, fuck.
Before I can try and figure out how far down the next ledge is out the window, or if I can even fit out the window, I hear a commotion outside my door. It’s not loud, but I hear a man gurgling and sputtering, a small bit of crimson blood pooling under the door. I grab an iron rod by the fire and hold it up, preparing to defend myself. I know they said I can’t be hurt but damn this feels real. The door opens and a man walks through, wide, muscular shoulders under his Roman armor, Medusa proudly engrained on the front. I lunge, the iron rod above my head but the man turns and grabs the rod and I would’ve fallen to the floor if he hadn’t caught me.
“Ivy! Here you are!”
It’s him. Marcus. Only he’s older, probably closer to 50. Grey streaks in his curls and patchy facial hair only accentuate his beauty, a new scar forming across his nose, bleeding lightly down his face. He’s covered in dirt and blood and ash, but I throw my arms around him anyway.
“Marcus! Thank God, what’s going on?”
He cups my face, pushing my hair out of my face. “You are so beautiful, my love. I would bring every army from the entire world to rescue you from this horrid Emperor.” And then his lips are on mine, urgency behind them, but a desire to show me how l much I am loved. This man apparently started the battle outside, for me, and still wants to make sure that I know how important I am to him?
“We have to flee. Come!” But before we can leave, the door flies open and 5 guards file in, grabbing Marcus and holding his arms out to his sides. I pick the iron rod up from the floor and run towards them, unsure of what I would do but I know I’ll beat the shit out of them until they let him go. But another hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, twisting it hard so I drop the rod. I look up into the eyes of a man that I’m assuming is the Emperor, his golden robes flowing around him. He looks vaguely familiar, like that one asshole from the comic shop.
“Now, now my dear. What were you planning on doing with that?”
I open my mouth to reply, but then he smacks me across the face and I slam down onto the floor. Ok, that hurt. Didn’t she say I wouldn’t get hurt? Maybe she meant I wouldn’t die. Marcus swears, cursing the Emperor for hitting me.
“Are you alright, my love?” Marcus grunts as the men punch him in the stomach.
“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. You’re kind are dying out. I told you to just accept your fate and take your banishment, but instead, you stayed behind and fell in love with a woman. How…stupid.” Marcus tries to speak but he’s punched again, his body hunching over. I try to stand, but then I’m drug up by my hair, the Emperor’s fingers digging at my scalp as he pulls me to his side.
“This one?” His eyes rake over my body. “She is attractive, I’ll give you that. Even if she is attracted to a brute like you.” I jerk my body, trying to get out of his grip but it’s too tight, my hands gripping his arms to try and get some relief from the stinging at the back of my scalp.
“Let her go. You can kill me, I don’t care, but let her go.”
The Emperor looks from me to Marcus, a sick smile spreading on his face. “I didn’t go through the trouble of kidnapping her just to have you give up. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do instead. LOOK AT ME!” The Emperor bellows from beside me, Marcus’s eyes moving from mine to his.
He steps closer to Marcus, dragging me a little beside him. “Such a wild man. How about this: you watch as I take her. Then, I’ll drive my sword through her belly so she can slowly bleed out on the floor. Only after the light has left her eyes will I either kill you or lock you up to suffer the rest of your days. How does that sound?”
The darkness that settles over Marcus is unforgiving, his eyes hardening in resolution. He growls and screams, throwing the soldiers off him as he grabs his sword from the ground, swinging it and taking out all of the soldiers in only a handful of moves. He spins, aiming his sword at the Emperor, who has now moved me in front of him as a human shield, a knife to my throat.
“I’ll kill her, Marcus! You are too weak to save her!”
Marcus’s gaze moves briefly to mine and I release my weak grip on the Emperor’s arms, letting them fall to my side. Marcus shifts his body ever so slightly before he throws something from behind his back. The object whizzes past my cheek, scratching it slightly as the blade buries itself in the Emperor’s neck. He drops his knife and clutches at his throat, his eyes wide with fear. He crumbles to the floor and sputters for several moments before his body stops moving. I run to Marcus, throwing my arms around him again. He grunts and I remember the soldiers hitting him.
“Are you hurt?”
He clutches his side. “I’ve had worse.”
“You are so fucking hot right now,” I speak quietly to him and he smiles. “I’m covered in dirt and blood and sweat.”
“Stop trying to turn me on more I already said you’re hot.”
He laughs but then inhales sharply at the pain. “I’ll take it, I guess.”
“No, that’s my job.” I bring my lips to his, pushing him back towards the chaise lounge chair on the other side of the room. He sits, pulling me onto his lap as I straddle him, my dress getting dirty as I shift my hips. He groans, his large hands sliding up my bare thighs under my dress and fuck! My vision starts to blacken and I hear Marcus whine out some expletives as we both are brought out of the simulation.
—---------------------------
Hopefully for the last time, I blink awake, wiggling my fingers and toes as I look around the room. The helmet is gently lifted from my head and the woman that had put it on me moves into my eyesight.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m here.”
“Good. Wait just a moment for your body to fully catch up. Do you have any questions?”
“Yeah why did you stop us having sex?”
She studies me for a moment. “It is not allowed in the programming.”
“I cross my arms. “Well your programming is stupid.”
She chuckles so quietly I thought I’d imagined it. “The algorithm wants you and your mate to match based on personality and emotions, not just physical.”
“I can guarantee you it wasn’t just physical.”
She helps me stand and I shake my limbs out, full feeling returning to them. I smooth out my dress as she readjusts my hair. “Are you ready to meet him?”
Him. My reality man. “Y..yeah.”
“Right through that door. He’s already waiting for you.” I move towards the door but she stops me. “I just have to say, I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never seen a situation like yours and his.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
So smiles softly. “So…rooted in reality.”
Yeah that’s not confusing. But she doesn’t explain further, turning back to the chair and helmet, starting to clean them. I take a deep breath to steady myself and open the door, walking through and closing it behind me. The man on the other side of the room, my mate, turns towards me and we both gasp.
“Marcus?”
“Ivy?”
We meet in the middle of the room and I cup his face, Marcus tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is it really you?”
He nods. “Yeah. You? Real?”
“Real.”
He pulls my face to his, kissing me deeply, but then pulling back a moment later.
“I’ve been dying to ask you out since forever. I never thought I’d be paired with you, here of all places.”
I cock my head to the side. “Why didn’t you ever ask me?”
“Have you seen yourself? You’re entirely out of my league.”
“I’m fairly certain it’s the other way around.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I put my finger on his lips. “I think we went through several first dates in there. Plus, we’re already friends. Can we…that is, can you take me back to your place first? Then we can eat?”
Marcus’s eyes darken, his hands finding a place on my hips as he pulls me against his body, letting me feel how into that idea he is.
We’re married a year later.
—----
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@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk
#pedro pascal#marcus acacius#marcus acacius x reader#marcus moreno#marcus pike#marcus pike x you#gladiator 2#marcus acacius x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal character ff#pedro pascal character fanfiction#marcus acacius x f!reader#gladiator 2 fanfic#gladiator 2 ff#gladiator marcus#marcus moreno x reader x you#marcus moreno x f!reader#marcus moreno x female reader#we can be heroes#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike fanfic#marcus pike smut#marcus pike fluff#the mentalist#marcus pike fic#marcus pike the mentalist
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Beautiful Dreamer - P x Reader
Notes: This is a bit of a shorter fic from me and it's pure unadulterated fluff and sap and nobody gets stabbed! Which is really stretching myself as a writer, to be honest. You guys know I love nothing more than a good life-threatening injury. Anyways, no warnings for this one! Enjoy the cozy vibes <3
---
It seemed somewhat magical in the beginning.
Pino came running to you once, at the very break of dawn when you had just barely opened your eyes; too-bright sunlight stinging them as the puppet shook you from sleep. It was difficult for you to grasp what he meant, at first, to wrap your head around what he was trying to describe. His speechless manner of communication and your general grogginess certainly didn’t help matters. But through a series of signs and expressions from Pinocchio, you came to understand. In his slow but sure gaining of humanity the boy had begun to dream at night.
You were vaguely aware that he did not dream before, and didn’t exactly sleep in the way humans did (although he did something similar enough that you personally couldn’t tell the difference).
“Is it… pleasant?” You asked him, genuinely quite curious as to what a strange thing dreams must seem to someone who had never known them. It had the potential to be wondrous and peaceful, but at the same overwhelming and utterly confusing. P seemed to take your question into careful consideration, really mulling it over. His eyes shone bright as he finally nodded decisively.
For all his excitement over this newfound ability, Pinocchio was frankly dreadful in his attempts at describing his dreams to you. You tried earnestly to follow along, but his gestures and expressions would eventually become too complicated and frenetic for you to follow and so you found yourself utterly lost in his recollections. It was after one such frustrating night that you gifted him a pocket journal to write in. This was much preferred for both of you, and you came to enjoy the routine of him eagerly handing off his scribblings for you to interpret in the morning. You would sit elbow to elbow at the table, sipping morning tea and reading his writing aloud, while he listened and nodded along captivated, his chin resting over his hands on the table.
His writing was uncharacteristically scratchy, with words often misspelled or crossed out implying that he was simply transcribing for speed and not coherence. Now and then there would be an addition of a crude drawing, sometimes the vague outline of a rabbit or a rushed impression of beaming stars.
One day, when it was particularly gloomy, you and Pino wandered to the library. Silence between the two of you was not uncommon, nor was it in any way awkward or uncomfortable. With the heavy fall of rain against the roof on this day, you found the quiet between the shelves especially peaceful. By the orange glow of a lantern, you turned the pages of a dream-interpretation guide. It was a small and somewhat battered thing and had been picked up eagerly by Pinocchio of course, who sat on the floor with crossed legs, chin resting in the heels of his hands as he listened to you, enthralled. In hushed tones, you ran down bulleted lists of common dreams and all the cryptic mysteries they may contain.
“Here, how about this one, have you ever dreamed that your teeth were falling out?” You asked, pointing to a passage in the book. P slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head vigorously, looking suddenly very concerned with keeping said teeth firmly in his mouth. You couldn’t help chucking as you turned the page.
The day wore on, and the oil in your lantern burned down to nothing, the dim light flickering across an eerie illustration. You’d been leafing through an art book of the romantic era painters and left off on a Fuseli painting of a tormented woman being peered upon unknowingly by some manner of devil. You found the page quite off putting honestly, and closed the book.
“I figure that’s enough of that. What do you say, Pino-oh.”
As you addressed your puppet companion in the dark, you came to see that he sat on the floor still, slumped against the foot of your chair. His cheek was sunk into his left shoulder, eyes shut, breathing soft and shallow. The serenity of the scene warmed your heart some, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Pino…” you whispered, and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to wake him. But he didn’t stir, seemingly in a deep sleep. You were sorry for the uncomfortable condition he seemed to be posed in, but you didn’t want to disturb the poor puppet. You gathered your things and left quietly, shuffling off to your quarters.
It was around midnight that the puppet woke with a panicked gasp. He was surprised to find his legion arm held up defensively, as if in anticipation of an invisible attack. His eyes searched his surroundings frantically, and only when he recognized the library did he hesitantly lower his arm. In the darkness he felt quite uneasy and disoriented. He tried to recall your soothing hushed voice. It had put him into quite a state it seemed before he eventually drifted off. It was in stark contrast to the current thrumming of his mechanical heart and the uncomfortable quickness of his breaths. He had dreamed something wholly unpleasant, and with some sadness realized this new facet of humanity came with drawbacks. He did not care much for these dreams at all.
Pinocchio made his way down the corridor to your quarters, his steps echoing eerily. He threw pointed glances over his shoulder frequently, half expecting some monstrous creature to appear suddenly in the halls of Hotel Krat. The simple casting of shadows had never before made him so on-edge. When he reached your room, he opened the door slowly and peered inside. You lay there in the dark beneath silk sheets, curled in on yourself and sleeping soundly. With great care not to startle you, he knelt by your bedside and nudged you in the back. Your head flinched momentarily, but you otherwise remained still. With some urgency he took your shoulder and shook until you stirred. Rubbing your eyes wearily, you rolled over to face him.
“Pino, it’s ah…it’s late isn’t it? Can’t it wait til morning..?” You grumbled. He shook his head almost apologetically and squeezed your shoulder. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were able to make out unfamiliar anxious creases in his expression. You willed yourself into a greater awareness and sat up promptly. “What is it, what’s wrong?” You asked, your tone softening significantly. P gestured in the direction of the library and rummaged around in his pocket for a moment. He retrieved the pocket journal you’d given him and pointed several times at the most recent entry. You squinted. On the left page he had simply blacked out the entire thing with a pen, and on the right page the phrase “strung up” was written several frantic times with increasing disregard for legibility.
When you looked up at him to clarify, he raised his hands limp above his head and dropped his chin to his chest. The image was admittedly shuddersome and he cast a long and spindly shadow across the wall.
“I see.” You said, closing the journal. “You had a nightmare, hm? All strung up like an ordinary puppet.” Your heart fell for the poor boy. It must’ve been terribly frightening for him.
Pinocchio nodded solemnly, not meeting your eyes. He stared off blankly and rubbed his wrists, as if easing a phantom feeling of restraints. You took note of this and hummed softly.
“Here, may I see?” You asked, and pulled his arm towards you. You made a show of inspecting it and tapping your chin thoughtfully. Holding his arm with one hand, you stuck up two fingers like a pair of scissors and pretended to snip the invisible puppet string. You repeated this mimic on his other arm and then took his hands in yours, placing a kiss on the back of each.
“All gone.”
Pinocchio looked at you with a kind of boyish wonder. He raised one fist to the crown of his head with a smile, making a pshhh sound and opening his hand, giving the impression of a miniature explosion.
“Think you’ll be alright for the rest of the night?”
At this he shifted a little. His fingers busied themselves, twisting in the bedsheets. He was obviously still shaken up somewhat. You could understand that, although it was a bit of a surprise to learn that someone so nearly indestructible could be afraid of the dark.
“Alright,” you sighed, lifting the sheets. “Get in here.”
P’s chin jutted forward and his brow furrowed at your offer. You just gestured to the space beside you with your head. “Go on, before I change my mind.” You teased. At this, Pinocchio clambered up into your bed and nuzzled his face into the pillow. As he got settled. You pulled the sheet over his shoulders and snaked your arm up around him from behind. Your nose pressed against the nape of his neck and you breathed in the smell of him, like fresh rain.
“Have no fear, my puppet.” You said sleepily against his skin. “Your trusty human won’t let anything steal you away from me in the night.” You heard him snicker at this, but you knew without a doubt he felt safer here with you and vice versa. It was sweet, really.
By the time the sun rose you were both still sound asleep, all tangled in each other’s limbs, looking like lovers in the warm morning light. The day could wait a little longer.
#originally this fic was called sing me to sleep bc I was listening to the suckerpunch soundtrack version of Asleep on loop#so if you want the full experience queue that song up while you read#lydia dropping art history refs like a fucking nerd#extremely soft pino#lies of p#lies of p fanfic#lop#lies of p x reader#pinocchio x reader#lies of p fanart#fluff#my writing
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Cultural Differences: A Shadowgast Rec List
This week, we have cultural differences! Check under the cut for 10 fics that explore the differences in Caleb and Essek's cultures and how it affects their relationship, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!
Courting of the Caleb by VexedVixen (6884, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn
Beau realizes Essek is courting Caleb before Caleb does.
Reccer says: Good world building, it’s cute, and plenty of both Caleb and Essek being flustered!
The Secret Romance of Essek Thelyss by Cardinal_Daughter (18629, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
All Essek wants is to celebrate his and Caleb's anniversary and present him with a very special gift. Naturally, nothing goes quite as planned.
Reccer says: I liked it!
Double Dip by Defiler_Wyrm (622, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Caleb’s Empire table manners threaten to ruin a perfectly pleasant dinner. (He’s going to get away with it, the little shit.)
Reccer says: Just a saucy little slice of life, pun intended.
Fine Things by Defiler_Wyrm (1296, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Essek is accustomed to luxury on a scale that Caleb finds baffling and troublesome. Sometimes, though, he has a point.
Reccer says: This is a fic about culture clash in terms of class, and about poverty trauma, handled gently. I tend to think that the class disparity between Caleb and Essek must be a touchier thing to navigate than the broader Empire vs. Dynasty ones, and that's exactly what this fic is about.
Love Letters to be Tossed in the Fire by Anonymous (61367, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Caleb and Essek get to know each other through a series of letters
Reccer says: This fic is creatively and beautifully written. I love the different ways the letters are sent. The two wizards learn about each other and their different cultures through the course of this fic, especially at the end.
Loose Translation by owlaholic68 (58379, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Due to an incredible comedy of errors on the part of the Cerberus Assembly, what is thought to be a pesky bureaucratic for one meddlesome Caleb Widogast, turns out to be a powerful political alliance and symbol of peace and unity between the Dynasty and Empire… through the marriage of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss and Caleb Widogast. Canon compliant until episode 141.
Reccer says: This is one of my all time favorite fics! The author does an incredible job at writing the political intrigue, manages a beautiful balance of the fluffiest fluff you could ever imagine with an undercurrent of yearning and angsty misunderstanding, all the while exploring the worldbuilding of the Kryn Dynasty in a way that is soso tasty. Truly, this is an addicting read that had me screaming, kicking my feet, and hyping up the characters to “go get his ass!!” all throughout.
Love in Creation by LuckyOwlsFoot (1662, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Caleb watches Essek work, and learns a little about the role of lace making to the Kryn dens.
Reccer says: The author does a great job at describing the physical motions of tatting, I felt like I could see it and understand what was happening despite have very little understanding of the craft- this really added to the visuals of the fic.
The following three fics each received two recs!
of blossoming hearts and glittering souls by quinn_of_aebradore (77995, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Caleb and Essek realize they've caught the Feelings, and try to figure out how to propose to each other, with each other's different cultural customs
Reccer 1 says: It's so soft and sweet, it's a lovely read <3 Reccer 2 says: This fic is so sweet. It's so sweet. It pulls no punches when it comes to expressing emotion and revolves around the entire proposal, engagement, and marriage/lovebinding procedures with such depth and care. Read it and weep (the happiest of tears)!
but i didn’t do it right, can i try again, and again? by queenbeetle (53385, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
An already together Caleb and Essek play at Dynasty courting rituals, but they keep their hands off each other long enough to play the game?
Reccer 1 says: I’m gonna be so straight forward this fic is SUPER hot. There is a phenomenal scene with gloves, and I will say nothing more. I really enjoy the cultural differences as seen through courting thing, especially when theres some misunderstandings about the levels of intimacy something might imply sprinkled in- and this definitely has that! Reccer 2 says: It has a delightful build up with a very rewarding and steamy pay off!
Indecency by RainyDayDecaf (5898, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, The fic is tagged with graphic depictions of violence, the scene written is about canon typical levels of violence
The many times Essek and Caleb accidentally court one another by Kryn or Blumenthal traditions and when they finally do it on purpose!
Reccer 1 says: Not only is it very cute, the world building is also very smart. The Blumenthal traditions that are made up by the author feel very in the spirit of what would be considered romantic to the way Caleb grew up. They clearly took time to flesh out his background and folk traditions just as much as they do Essek’s high class courting etiquette, which is a true treat! Reccer 2 says: It's wonderfully written and descriptive! Also just very funny and sweet with lots of good pining.
Want more fics that explore cultural differerences? Check out our previous rec list on this subject!
This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation.
And hey, anyone includes you!
Next week, we'll be featuring getting nerdy about magic! Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!
#shadowgast#caleb widogast#essek thelyss#critical role#cr fic recs#fan fiction rec list#critical role fan fiction#cr fic#cr fics
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the thought of shinichi getting jealous when kaitou kid gets all teasing with another detective always has me wanting to write a fic but I never get the time to do so.
detectives are always chasing after kid, but no one ever gets close enough like shinichi does, but what if someone catches on? someone figures that little conan knows where the thief is and follows and ends up using conan as a way to get to kid.
shinichi would probably brush it off at first, but when it happens constantly, and he doesn't even get the chance to talk to kid in between the heist and kid's escape.
he's get annoyed, jealous, mad, and everything else that would probably come to mind because it's his thing to do, he's the one who's supposed to catch up to kaitou kid.
that detective could be hakuba, or maybe even hattori. if heiji ever plans to attend a heist- but its mostly hakuba, because he's the one who's trying to prove things with kid being kaito.
he's like any other detectives, planning to catch kid, and arrest him, and yeah maybe shinichi puts on that thought too, but shinichi is nothing like most detectives, as conan, he can't catch kid in the way that others try to, not that he wants to.
I don't think kid would notice how conan feels at first, he'd be too caught up with a heist and he'd just forget, especially if some other detective is trailing after him and has figured where he was before he planned to.
he'd call out for "tantei-kun" at first, then pauses because that isn't conan he's talking to, it's another detective and he just gets caught with that to the fact that he doesn't notice.
shinichi wouldn't say anything, maybe he'd think he was replaced, but he wouldn't confront anyone at all, and maybe he's feel emotions he didn't expect, and maybe that's when he realizes he has feelings for kid and it makes him want to cry and even distance himself.
because the kid heists was his escape from the horrors that come with murder scenes, and the kid heists were a way to take a break from all the black org stuff.
he feels replaced in a way, but he doesn't know how to describe it and maybe won't attend heists in general until he figures out his feelings.
ran would notice, little cheerful conan who'd get all excited at the mention of a heist note and rush to figure out the riddle, only for him to switch and lock himself up in his room and just fucking cry at the mention of a heist. that wasn't normal.
she'd try to take him to another heist to cheer him up one time, conan wouldn't have even figured out the riddle yet, not having enough time to put pieces together and he's just so mentally drained to do anything. he just goes to a rooftop near by, aiming to watch from afar, he's too tired to bicker around with kid.
at the site of the other detective following him he just snaps, he can't take it anymore, he feels like he's being used and just yells it out, doesn't even notice kid's presence before he's storming away, frustrated and mad and he can't stand anything, he can't go home and leave ran, and he just wants to rest.
kid is right after him, barely escaping from the other detective with a light bang and a dummy with his glider, rushing after conan because that's his tantei-kun crying about god knows what.
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Yeah that's all that came to mind, I love angst guys ahaha no happy ending ever appears in my thoughts 👍👍👍
#dcmk#kuroba kaito#kudo shinichi#magic kaito#shinichi kudo#kaito kid#kaito kuroba#kaitou kid#kaishin#快新#kidshin#kidcon#kaicon#i like to make things sad#sad shit#fic ideas#thoughts#i think about them a lot#sad yaoi#theyre so#waaaaa#hakuba saguru#saguru hakuba#I CAN DO WHAT I WANT#jealousy#uhh#yay angst#ree talks dcmk
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